CRAWFORD | A Pat Day to remember: Lifetime achievement award takes on eternal meaning | Sports

LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) -- The statue of Pat Day at Churchill Downs has his arms raised in victory, frozen in bronze, mouth wide with joy. It's an image from May 2, 1992, when Day finally won the Kentucky Derby aboard Lil E. Tee.

But if you stood at the Kentucky Derby Museum on Thursday morning and watched Day accept the museum's Lifetime Achievement Award — if you heard him speak, if you saw his face — you'd swear that statue might not capture the full picture.

Victory, yes. But also grace. Gratitude. Something deeper than winning.

"I continue to marvel at God's handiwork," Day said, standing before an audience of racing fans, friends and family. "The first 30 years of my life, I tried to self-destruct. But by the grace of God, the last half of my life has been decidedly good."

Louisville | Kentucky | Indiana | Eric Crawford

In a sport known for its speed, Day has always been about patience. In the saddle, he was famous (or infamous) for waiting until the last possible moment to make his move. Off the track, he's spent the past two decades with the same kind of patience, delivering a quieter kind of message: faith, purpose, redemption.

He brought all of that into the museum Thursday, as the museum, Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby Festival celebrated "Derby in December" by honoring the man who won more at Churchill than anyone in history — 2,482 races, 158 stakes wins and 34 riding titles — but has always been quick to say he didn't do it alone. He thanked his wife Sheila, his agents, trainers, racing officials and many others.

"This is not my award," he said. "This is our award. It's a joint effort."

Still, it's hard to tell the story of modern horse racing without Pat Day. He won 8,803 races, four Eclipse Awards, a dozen Breeders' Cup races and nine Triple Crown races, including that elusive Kentucky Derby in his 10th try, aboard Lil E. Tee. His style earned him the nickname "Patient Pat," and his nerve in big races made him a go-to rider for the sport's most influential barns.

But if you ask him what he wants people to take away from his exhibit at the Derby Museum, he won't talk about the Derby. Or the Breeders' Cups. Or even the statue.

"I would like for them to see what a radical change took place in my life after January 27, 1984," he said. "When I accepted Christ into my life, I was instantaneously delivered from bondage to drugs and alcohol. I fully committed my life to doing what the Lord would have me to do, which was riding races and representing him."

Day shared that he once thought winning the Derby would be the pinnacle of his life. He rode in the famed race nine times before he finally broke through in 1992. When he did, the joy overwhelmed him. "If I thought winning that race was going to be here," he said, raising a hand, "it turned out to be just a little bit north of the moon."

But in the years since, he's come to value something even higher: using that platform — the Derby, the Hall of Fame, the statue — to point toward something bigger.

"The absolute greatest thrill for me," he said Thursday, "that surpasses winning the Kentucky Derby, is to pray with someone that they might come to a knowledge of the saving grace of Jesus Christ."

He said it not with bravado, but with clarity, a soft-spoken rider still reaching for something greater. He stood before an exhibit that holds the silks from his final ride, family photos from the mountains of Colorado, and awards from decades of excellence.

Day's riding career spanned from 1973-2005. His call to be a minister, whether through his riding career or after his retirement, now has spanned 41 years. The two cannot be separated. On Thursday, he talked of a day a century hence, when the trophies will have collected dust, but that the work he does now will continue to shine.

"I want you to be my forever friend," he said, in closing, reading from a poem that warned of regret and celebrated faith. "I want you to have a lifetime achievement award: a personal relationship with Jesus Christ."

This wasn't a moment about track records. It was about transformation. Not just the kind that turns a rodeo kid from Eagle, Colorado into a Hall of Fame jockey. But the kind that reshapes a man from the inside out.

Pat Day's arms were lifted again Thursday. Not in the rush of victory this time. But in praise. In thanks. In a moment where faith and racing met, not just at the wire, but in a life.