Hoof-in-Mouth Disease

Welcome to The Bigtime, Steve Coburn.

It was like a scene from a Bizzaro version of My Cousin Vinny. This time, the underdog is a hick coming to the big city, unaware that he's no longer just chewing the proverbial cud with friends, family and yes men.

At least Vinny came to his senses. Coburn was still looking like Wilford Brimley Sunday morning, and sounded like 'ole Mr. Witherspoon had been off his insulin-and-oats a few days.

America got to know his horse and rallied behind its Triple Crown campaign faster than Ross Perot rose to fame in before the 1992 Presidential election.

And in just a nose under 149 seconds in Elmont, NY, it was over. Well, for California Chrome, that is. For his whacked daddy, America was about to feel for the Belmont favorite the way it empathized for Everett Flatch in Hoosiers.

After Tonalist galloped to victory, Coburn's drawl was the only sound heard over the dull chorus of murmur and tickets torn and tossed to the floors. The crowd's reaction to Chrome's performance echoed that of Barbaro's fate at Pimlico back in 2006. Only nobody dare stand-up at a funeral and blame someone.

Then there was Saturday.

Coburn's cracking made Rick Dutrow's pouting seem civilized after Big Brown's Crown collapse in 2008.

“This is not fair to these horses that have been in this thing running their guts out for these people and for the people that believe in them, to have some somebody come out like this — this is the cowards way out, in my opinion, this is the cowards way out."

Oh. He wasn't finished. 

“I’m 61 years old and I’ll never in my lifetime I’ll never see another Triple Crown winner because of the way they do this. It’s not fair to these horses that have been in the game since day one. I look at it this way: if you can’t make enough points to get into the Kentucky Derby, you can’t win in the other two races.”

Oh, and there was Sunday morning on Good Morning America. 

“That would be like me at 6’ 2” playing basketball against a kid in a wheelchair.”

Apparently, Coburn's size must have scared-off his inner circle from coaching him into recanting his Saturday statements. That, or he forgot to check his blood sugar. And check it often.

The old man grew too big for the scene. People complain that the only people that run for office are in fact politicians. But when the overnight favorite--the one who runs simply because he's fed up with those jerks in Washington/Albany/school board--says something dumb, those same folks immediately clamor for who? A politician. Someone who looks like they know what they're talking about. Someone as much PR as Magnum P.I.

Steve Coburn ate all the zero-to-hero attention he could get the past five weeks like an Old Country Buffet and puked it all back-up like Carl Paladino.

Here's an idea: Maybe the Triple Crown should hold a class class. You know, one to teach those first-timers and never-beens-before how to act like they've been there before.

Of course, it could only be for those racing in the Derby, AND the Preakness AND the Belmont. And only those racing a horse in all of those for the first time.

It's only fair. All or nothing.

Or else, when you lose for the first time, you might come off sounding like a 6'2'' jerkoff who got beat playing basketball by a kid in a wheelchair.