By the time the gates opened at Churchill Downs, Cherie DeVaux had already answered the same question countless times: Could she become the first woman to train a Kentucky Derby winner? For days, it followed her—through interviews, along the backstretch, in quiet moments before the biggest race of her life.
Then, in a matter of minutes on a roaring Saturday afternoon, the question disappeared.
Golden Tempo answered it for her.
In front of more than 100,000 spectators, the colt surged from the back of an 18-horse field, threading through traffic, circling wide, and unleashing a breathtaking run down the stretch. By the time he crossed the finish line—just a neck ahead of the favorite Renegade—history had already been made.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to answer that question anymore,” DeVaux said afterward, her voice carrying equal parts relief and disbelief as applause echoed around her.
It was not the kind of race that unfolds predictably. For much of the journey, Golden Tempo lingered at the rear, unhurried and almost invisible. To the casual observer, he looked out of contention. But DeVaux wasn’t worried. She knew her horse.
“That’s how he runs,” she would later say. “We didn’t really change anything.”
Jockey Jose Ortiz understood that rhythm too. Patient early, he began to ask for more as they approached the far turn. From 13th position with a quarter-mile to go, Golden Tempo started picking off rivals one by one. Instead of diving into traffic, Ortiz guided him to the outside—a bold move that required both confidence and timing.
“I felt like I had horse,” Ortiz said. “I knew if I stayed patient, he’d give me everything.”
And he did.
With every stride, Golden Tempo gathered momentum, his powerful frame eating up ground. Renegade, ridden by Ortiz’s older brother Irad, looked poised to win. But in the final strides, Golden Tempo found another gear, surging past just before the wire. The clock stopped at 2:02.27. The odds—23-1—only added to the shock.
For DeVaux, the victory carried weight far beyond the finish line.
Just days earlier, she had noticed a young girl watching from the backstretch. It was a small, quiet moment, but one that stayed with her. In that instant, the significance of what she might achieve became real.
“It’s an honor to be that person other women or little girls can look up to,” she said. “You can dream big. You can change direction. You can come from anywhere and still become part of history.”
Her own journey is proof of that belief.
Raised among seven brothers and two sisters, DeVaux learned resilience early. The racing world, often dominated by tradition and expectation, was not always welcoming. Yet she carved her path with persistence, humility, and an unwavering work ethic.
She started as an exercise rider more than two decades ago—just another young face with big dreams and no guarantees.
“I didn’t believe I’d be here,” she admitted. “Not in my wildest imagination.”
Eight years after launching her own stable, she stood at the pinnacle of the sport.
But the road to that moment was far from smooth. Leading up to the Derby, questions swirled about Golden Tempo’s condition, including concerns over cracked heels. DeVaux downplayed the issue, focusing instead on preparation. She experimented with blinkers, fine-tuned training routines, and worked patiently to keep the colt focused.
Some even described Golden Tempo as lazy.
On Derby day, he looked anything but.
Ortiz, who had chased this victory for over a decade, finally realized his dream on his 11th attempt. Just a day earlier, he had won the Kentucky Oaks, making the weekend even more special. With his family watching—including his brother and parents—it became a shared moment of triumph.
“I’ve ridden in it so many times,” Ortiz said. “But to win it… that’s something you carry forever.”
In the stands, DeVaux watched the race unfold with quiet confidence. Even when Golden Tempo trailed the field, she trusted the process. As the horse began his charge, her belief turned into certainty.
“At the three-sixteenth pole, I thought, ‘We’re going to win this,’” she recalled. “After that… I kind of blacked out.”
The victory wasn’t just about one race. It placed DeVaux alongside Jena Antonucci as one of the only women to train a Triple Crown race winner. In the 152-year history of the Kentucky Derby, she became just the 18th woman to saddle a horse—and the first to stand in the winner’s circle.
Golden Tempo’s performance also delivered a stunning payout, rewarding those who believed when few others did. But beyond the numbers, it was a win defined by grit, patience, and timing.
As celebrations continued, attention quickly turned to what comes next—the Preakness Stakes. DeVaux, however, remained grounded.
“We’ll let the horse decide,” she said. “He comes first. Always.”
It was a fitting sentiment for a victory built not on ego, but on trust—between trainer, horse, and rider.
In the end, Golden Tempo’s run was more than a comeback from the back of the pack. It was a statement. A reminder that history often arrives quietly, builds steadily, and then—when the moment is right—bursts forward in a way no one can ignore.
And for Cherie DeVaux, it meant that the question she had been asked all week no longer mattered.
The answer was already written.
