LOUISVILLE, Ky. - There’s something chilling about the moment and goosebumps can show up days and months later.

It’s the anthem of the Kentucky Derby, over 100,000 people all at once singing ‘My Old Kentucky Home,’. Doesn't matter where you're from - someone from Louisville next to a New Yorker next to a Louisianan, all knowing every word.

The spirit of the Kentucky Derby lies outside the horse racing itself. In many ways, the racing is secondary except to excessive gamblers and the Derby race. The rest of the day, the weekend, is about something more.

It is about running into Dan, who I’ve known for 27 years. He lives halfway across the country. We don’t go to the Derby with the same group but have met up at some point the past two years in the infield reminiscing about times at the Derby and from growing up in New York. It’s about friends traveling from all over the country to get together, using Louisville as the landing spot. It’s about friends being so sad about missing the Derby in 2010 they went to an OTB, watched the races and texted those who were there throughout the weekend.

It’s about meeting new people like Justin and Elise - sorry about Friday again, Elise - and wondering if they’ll end up becoming future Derby friends.

The entire city embraces the two weeks leading up to event, from the washed-up 90’s band Candlebox playing to a crowd in a park to the bizarre ‘Great Steamboat Race’. That's not even counting the mass of parties throughout Louisville that would make Bourbon Street blush.

Under this premise, it doesn’t really matter how you do the Derby. You can go and buy seats or hang out in the paddock. Wear a seersucker suit or a fancy dress and a hat so big it provides shade to five others. Women swoon seeing Mario Lopez and Oscar from “The Office” can walk through the crowd essentially unnoticed.

Or go in the infield and relive your college days, wear shorts, a T-shirt and for the 2010 Derby, a poncho. Doesn’t matter if you’re 20 or 50, there’s mud sliding on a plastic tarp coated with soap, mud wrestling and an excess of mint juleps wherever you turn.

The Derby provides a setting where people can strike up a conversation with anyone over anything because it combines two things truly American - gambling and a dose of bourbon. Nothing bonds Americans quite like cheering for the prospect of winning money while being at different levels of inebriation.

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

The Kentucky Derby is like no other sporting event, at least none I’ve been to. It trumps the Indianapolis 500, is bigger than the Final Four and excites more people than any college bowl game or All-Star game.

You can go to Churchill Downs knowing everything or nothing about betting on horses and still have a chance of coming in the money. There are few feelings like watching the horse you bet win and going to the wagering counter to collect money.

In that way, it is better than Vegas.

It’s why random strangers can celebrate Super Saver’s win, yelling at Calvin Borel even though he can’t hear it, yelling for the horse even though he can’t understand it. Really, it’s just the excitement of the entire thing.

As Borel crossed the finish line to win his second Derby in a row, the third turn of the infield celebrated.

High-fives were exchanged. Hugs doled out. And a tip to potential first-timers: If you do go to the Derby, never bet against Borel. Ever.

There’s a reason the Derby attracts the same people year after year and why when people who haven’t been to the Derby before immediately follow the statement with the qualifier “but I’d love to go one day.”

If you’ve gone, you already understood all of this. If you haven’t, you should go whether you like horse racing or not. You won’t regret it.

Michael Rothstein covers University of Michigan sports for AnnArbor.com. He can be reached at (734) 623-2558, by e-mail at michaelrothstein@annarbor.com or follow along on Twitter @mikerothstein