Amongst my accumulated knowledge of the not-so-practical variety, I happen to know a thing or two about the sport of thoroughbred racing. At its best, the sport showcases the astonishing athletic gifts and courageous tenacity of the most noble equine breed on Earth. (Try and watch Secretariat at the Belmont in 1973 and keep the hair from rising on the back of your neck.) At its worst, the sport exploits these wonderful animals for the cheap amusement of no-account problem gamblers and the decadently expensive amusement of the idle rich. (Try and watch this loser handicap the 5th race at Penn National in November and not shake your head in disgust.)
I didn't bet on the Kentucky Derby this year, and I didn't really follow the pre-race speculation. We turned the race on just in time for the post parade, where I spotted the strapping black filly Eight Belles -- moving along the post parade with a relaxed and easy gait. Immediately, I said to Jessica: "What a pretty horse, I think I'll root for her."
10 minutes later, Eight Belles had run a tremendously gutsy race to beat all the boys in the race except the derby champion and possible superhorse -- Big Brown. 15 minutes later, Eight Belles was dead. She had shattered both front ankles shortly after the race -- most likely because she'd literally run her heart out when she could have taken it easy. She was the only horse in the field who tried to follow Big Brown after he put on his devastating burst of speed around the turn for home. In the picture above, you can see she's "all out" trying to catch the big colt...
I hope you'll take a minute to read this NY Times article [So Young, So Strong, So Sad] by Jane Smiley -- the author of the excellent thoroughbred racing novel Horse Heaven. Smiley traces Eight Belles' courage and tenacity to her pedigree.
I have a friend who trains a jumper who is a relative of Eight Belles, a son of her grandsire, Unbridled. When my friend got the horse, a woman he knows, a steward at Santa Anita, told him to watch out, because Unbridleds tend to be unsound and fearless, and my friend has found this to be the case. Where most horses have at least some caution, my friend’s horse will try anything. His mental toughness and competitiveness always take over, no matter what the circumstances.
This paragraph really touched me, because it made me realize why I picked Eight Belles out of the crowd of horses before the race. She's a daughter of Unbridled's Song. And what Smiley says is true: The Unbridled family line are highly intelligent creatures, strikingly beautiful through the eyes, and unfortunately prone to all sorts of injuries. I should know: My favorite horse of all time, Buddha, was also a son of Unbridled's Song -- just like Eight Belles. I came face to face with Buddha before the Wood Memorial in 2002. I had been planning on supporting another horse, but I took one look at Buddha, turned to my friends and said "I think I'm in love."
I'm pretty sure Buddha would have won the Kentucky Derby that year, but he got injured and never raced again.
His trainer cried when he had to scratch him from the Derby the night before the race. Buddha's dynamite, gritty performance in the Wood foreshadowed great things in the Derby. It was to be his last race. I'll never forget it. After the race, his trainer said: "I am usually optimistic about my horses, but this one I really had a good feeling about ... He's lightly raced, but he is so intelligent. If you could measure a horse's intelligence, he would measure out very high."
I've attached a clip of the race here if you'd care to watch. You can follow along as Buddha gets bumped into the rail after the start, shoots through to follow the pace, surges ahead of the pack with Medaglia D'Oro, (that year's eventual Travers winner and Breeder's Cup favorite) and then digs in to fight Medaglia D'Oro from the rail all the way down to the wire -- somehow keeping his nose in front for the victory. Most horses wilt when a big, fast horse surges them into the rail -- not Buddha.
Buddha left the sport as the most talented three year old in training and never got to show the world the full measure of his massive talent. Neither did his father, Unbridled's Song, or his sister, Eight Belles.
Saturday afternoon, after I saw NBC showing Eight Belles down on the track, I knew what was in store for her -- a swift death. I rose up out of my chair and looked for something to kick. It took five minutes to calm me down. I was a wreck for the rest of Saturday. I just don't think I can pay any more attention to horse racing. I've overlooked the animal cruelty that goes on in the sport for too long. Smiley, at least, helps helps me put it all in perspective:
It is possible, though, that Eight Belles would have run herself to death on any surface. We all know people who cannot admit defeat, and horses can be the same. We all know people who simply defy their own weaknesses and go on. I see Eight Belles’s death as heroic in that sense — stubborn and foolish, shocking and tragic, but not, in the end, an accident. I think the filly’s courage deserves respect, not pity.
Or, as Big Brown's jockey Kent Desormeaux said, "Big Brown showed you his heart and Eight Belles showed you her life for our enjoyment today."
I have nothing but respect for the life Eight Belles showed. But I think my enjoyment of horse racing is at an end.
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