11 reasons why racehorses end up with such weird names

When a friend and I began investing in thoroughbreds in 2018, it wasn’t fantasies of running in the Kentucky Derby or the Preakness Stakes that excited us most. It was naming the racehorses. We’d seen California Chrome and American Pharoah etch their names in the sports lexicon. And while producing a horse of that caliber was a longshot, just the prospect of the announcer yelling, “Here comes [name we chose] down the stretch!” was unexpectedly thrilling.

This weekend’s Preakness Stakes, the second leg of the Triple Crown, features some elite thoroughbreds, and even some better names. Journalism, the favorite, has arguably the best name in the field. American Promise has obvious American Pharoah vibes and was sired by 2018 Triple Crown winner Justify—another iconic moniker.

On name alone, I’d put my money on Sandman.

And while betting on the horse with the best name is the equivalent of my 10-year-old daughter rooting for the Miami Dolphins because their uniforms are pretty, for a niche sport that becomes the center of the sports world for six weeks in the spring, sometimes the name is all we’ve got.

For owners to choose a name worth rooting for, there are some tricks—and rules—to follow.

The Basics

All racehorses are given the birth date of January 1 of the year they were born, regardless of their actual birthday. Then, the clock starts ticking. Owners must give their horses an official, registered name by February of their second year, or face late registration fees from horse racing’s administrative hub, The Jockey Club.

Before receiving their official monikers, these nameless thoroughbreds are typically referred to by combinations of their sire and dam’s names (their father and mother) along with a description. For instance, the horse As Time Goes By was previously known as “bay mare by American Pharoah out of Take Charge Lady.” Sometimes they go by just the dam’s name and the birth year—“2020 chestnut gelding out of Sunrise Glow.” Kind of like how COVID-19 got its name, or how scientists would name a newly discovered planet.

Owners must submit six different name options to The Jockey Club for consideration, each of which must follow the club’s specific rules.

The Science

Racehorse naming follows strict guidelines. Before Twitter, horse racing featured the original character limit. Names cannot exceed 18 characters, including spaces and punctuation. This explains compact names like Shutthefrontdoor and Keepmeinmind. Additionally, names are limited to seven syllables, with 2003 Kentucky Derby contender Atswhatimtalkinbout pushing character, syllable, and pronunciation limits to the extreme.

Using initials is also prohibited, as are numbers—unless spelled out, as exhibited by 1988 Derby runner-up Forty Niner.

Horse-related terms like filly, colt, mare, and stallion are also forbidden, as are official course and race titles. Names with obvious commercial value are also immediately rejected. Nobody wants to see a horse named Coca-Cola or TikTok leading the field down the stretch.

The art

Uniqueness is nonnegotiable. No horse can share a name with another currently racing or one that has raced or bred in the previous 10 years. For stallions, the name protection extends to 15 years after they’ve stopped breeding, while winners of Grade 1 stakes races—the highest echelon of the sport—are protected for 25 years. And just like sports teams retire jersey numbers, names like Secretariat, Man o’ War, and Seattle Slew are forever on the restricted list and can never be reused. To check a name’s availability, owners can verify it against the Jockey Club registry.

Personal names are also tricky. A horse cannot be named after a famous person or someone who’s been dead for less than 50 years without written permission from them or their family. I learned this firsthand when I tried to name one of our horses Mookie Blaylock as an ode to Pearl Jam, which the band used as its original name before changing it, and was informed I needed permission, which wasn’t worth the trouble.

One of the most famous stories of a celebrity-named horse came in 1991, when then-First Lady Barbara Bush gave her written consent to the owner of a filly out of Kentucky to use her name, but the horse made only two starts and earned just $102 in winnings.

Finally, the Jockey Club strictly prohibits vulgar, obscene, or offensive names. Previously rejected names include Ben Dover and Sofa King Fast, though occasionally, some—like Hoof Hearted—slip past the censors.

The craft

Casual and seasonal horse racing enthusiasts remember names like California Chrome and Smarty Jones, both Derby winners.

But who remembers Orb, or Mage?

Both also won the Derby, but their names don’t inspire, so they’re largely forgotten.

To craft a unique, memorable name that bettors want to root for, many owners look to their horse’s physical characteristics. A foal with a distinctive scar might earn a boxing-related name like Haymaker, turning an imperfection into a memorable identity. The most common tradition is incorporating the parents’ names, like a nominal family tree, as 2023 Derby contender Tapit Trice did when it combined sire Tapit with dam Danzatrice (Italian for ballerina), creating a name that honors both bloodlines.

The biggest breeders have more sophisticated racehorse naming strategies. Susan Magnier, who names the racehorses at Coolmore in the UK, reserves grand names for their most promising colts. The name Camelot was stored in her diary for nearly 10 years before a worthy horse emerged. That horse went on to win six of the 10 races he started across Ireland and Great Britain in 2011–13, doing the moniker justice.

From Bananas on Fire to Sandman

My partner and I had four horses to name. One name I’ve already forgotten, as it was given to a forgettable horse. Another we dubbed Artillery—strong, singular, and assertive. A third we named Queen Karma. We liked the implied royalty combined with the mysticism and alliteration.

But the name that caught the attention of bettors and emerged as the best in the stable was Bananas on Fire, a nod to our favorite beer from a local Lake Oswego brewery. Hardly Secretariat or Seabiscuit, but it was fun. Which is where many owners land.

While there’s no Bananas on Fire in this weekend’s Preakness, we do have Journalism. We have River Thames, Goal Oriented, and Pay Billy. Sovereignty, another strong name, won the Derby but won’t be running the Preakness, so there’s no shot at a Triple Crown this year. So if we’re going on name alone, even with Journalism locked in as the favorite, I’ll still put my money on the best name in the field.

Give me Sandman.

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