Few stages in global sport are so thick with tension, drama, and the weight of history as the Breeders’ Cup Classic. It’s the American horse racing colosseum—a cauldron where legends are forged or felled in the space of two unforgiving minutes. And this year, as Del Mar readies for the 2025 renewal, a singular question hangs in the late-autumn air: will Sovereignty, the +150 favorite and dual Classic winner, etch his name alongside the immortals?
Sovereignty’s Bid for Immortality
Since his unflinching triumphs as an underdog to the much-fancied Journalism in both the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont Stakes, this champion colt has been treated like horse racing royalty. And rightfully so. Analysts have circled his closing sectionals, while his ability to stalk, pounce, or blast from the front makes him a formidable foe no matter the terrain. In three consecutive Grade 1 outings, he’s averaged a 2¼-length winning margin, and the racing odds providers think more of the same is just around the corner.
The latest horse racing odds Bovada currently make Sovereignty a short-priced +150 favorite to bring the curtain down on 2025 with a bang, claiming a career-defining Classic victory. However, he will have his work cut out as reigning champion Sierra Leone (+500), dominant Pacific Classic winner Fierceness (+600), and even the redemption-seeking Journalism (+1200) are all on the prowl.
But the Classic is no mere coronation. Del Mar’s tight turns, the glut of hardened older horses, and a big prize purse all guarantee an all-out war—not a polite passing of the torch. If the Breeders’ Cup Classic has taught racing fans one lesson since 1984, it’s that “unbeatable” is a loaded word. Some of the sport’s most electrifying odds-on heroes have watched their legacy splinter under the harshest floodlights. Let’s journey through three seismic upsets that remind us there’s no such thing as a sure-fire winner, especially in the Classic.
Curlin and the Day Synthetic Became Kryptonite (2008)
Back in 2008, Curlin was not just a horse—he was an American icon with the Dubai World Cup trophy gleaming on the mantle. At 9/10, punters at Santa Anita saw nothing but dominance in the forecast, especially after his triumph the previous year.
But lurking beneath the surface was a variable as slippery as wet leaves—a brand-new Pro-Ride synthetic track. Curlin, so imperious on dirt, found himself laboring as the race unfolded, his explosive kick blunted by footing that gave and took in equal measure. With the clear frontrunner looking out of sorts, the champion’s rivals sensed vulnerability.
Enter Raven’s Pass—the sprawled-out, chestnut bullet from Europe piloted with signature flamboyance by the iconic Frankie Dettori. Surging wide and consuming the ground, Raven’s Pass stormed home in less than two minutes to become Europe’s first Classic winner. Curlin, baffled and leg-weary, faded to fourth amid gasps from the packed grandstand. The result paid $26.40 on a $2 win bet, but the real price was Curlin’s coronation—a would-be dynasty upended by one synthetic curveball.
Slew o’ Gold and the Inaugural Chaos (1984)
Hollywood Park became the cradle of Breeders’ Cup lore in 1984. Amid the inaugural fanfare, Slew o’ Gold—brilliant, imperious, and weighed down by money—went off as the 3-5 pick in the most lucrative Classic ever at the time. Even a nagging hoof crack and minimal West Coast prep couldn’t dull the public’s faith.
The race was a kaleidoscope of elbows, nerves, and outright mayhem. Slew o’ Gold, sensing immortality and boxed brutally in at the rail, got squeezed between Gate Dancer and an unconsidered 31-1 bolt named Wild Again. As Pat Valenzuela wrangled a path through chaos, Wild Again lunged for the line—a single, desperate neck in front as the stewards pored over ten minutes of objections to declare him the victor at odds of 30/1.
Snow Chief and Skywalker’s Perfect Ambush (1986)
By 1986, the Classic was already acquiring a taste for the spectacular. Snow Chief was no ordinary colt—his seasonal Beyer Speed Figures ripped through the charts in the buildup, a Santa Anita Derby and Preakness winner so lightly dismissed by oddsmakers that he started as a prohibitive 1-2.
Jockey Alex Solis did what he always did: sent Snow Chief early, turning every furlong into a statement. While the fractions were methodical, the cadence was not quite lethal enough to streak clear of the chasing pack. Lurking off the pace sat Skywalker—a rangy individual handled with near-telepathic calm by Margarito Garcia.
Down the home straight, Skywalker uncorked a surge that seemed to draw the very breath from the crowd. Time stopped: 2:00 flat for the mile and a quarter, victory by 2½ blinding lengths, and Snow Chief a weary fourth. For the believers, it was a delightful moment. For the majority, another case study in the Classic’s capacity to expose—even punish—the slightest frailty in those expected to rule.
