Sport: When the Fat Man Talks, Listen

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Campo opened his own shop at Belmont in 1968. He did not enjoy the backing of racing's powerful old families, but he built his stable into one of New York's best. In 1970 he won more races than any other trainer in the state and, by shrewdly picking up future winners in claiming races, kept improving his record. In 1971 he broke into the big time with a colt named Jim French, which finished in the money at the Derby, Preakness and Belmont. Then it was discovered that the colt's hidden owner was Robert Presti, who had been banned from racing in New York State for alleged connections with the Mafia. Stewards for the New York Racing Association ruled that Campo had misrepresented the horse's ownership, and the trainer was suspended from racing for 30 days. Seven years later, Campo was subpoenaed by a Detroit grand jury when confessed Race Fixer Tony Ciulla named him as an associate. Campo said he sold Ciulla horses that were later used in fixed races in other states, but authorities were unable to prove that he was involved in any wrongdoing.

Thus Campo was a controversial figure long before he rudely announced after the Wood Memorial in April that his colt would win the Kentucky Derby because the rest of the field was "a bunch of garbage." The remark was vintage Campo. He refuses to make his sentences parse or his opinions palatable. He also pre-empts criticism about his appearance (5 ft. 7 in., 250 Ibs.) by proclaiming himself the Fat Man. Says one New York trainer: "He's got a huge chip on his shoulder, an inferiority complex that he defends by putting on a superiority complex. But fortunately, a good horse doesn't know who his trainer is." Others may scorn Campo's city background and his own ineptness in the saddle. ("He's no horseman," says a Kentucky breeder. "I don't think he could ride in a boxcar with the doors closed.") But Campo is equally —and justifiably—haughty about his accomplishments. Says he: "I'll put myself and my record up against anybody in this country, in the world, head-to-head. I'm a good trainer. I know what I can do. This horse (Pleasant Colony] leaves at the end of the year, but I'll get another one like him and another one after that. I know where to get them and how to get them because I'm good."

Still, a colt like Pleasant Colony is a once-in-a-lifetime creature, a rare congruence of speed, stamina and heart. The racing world was surprised when the relatively unknown son of His Majesty took the Derby (1¼ miles). Horsemen conceded him the shorter Preakness (1 3/16 miles) but are now murmuring that he will fade in a race as long as the Belmont (1½ miles). Not Johnny Campo. He has no doubt that Pleasant Colony will become history's twelfth Triple Crown winner. The rapid-fire, near-shout Noo Yawk accent softens only when he speaks of his colt: "He really is a good horse, this horse. Ahh, such a good horse."

—By BJ. Phillips