At some point, any racing enthusiast has probably heard the old adage, “Don’t go falling in love with racehorses.” In a sport where anything can happen, anything does when it comes down to its’ athletes. Victory. Defeat. Health. Illness. Friendship. Excitement. Frustration. Hope.
Just name it. They are the quickest creatures on four legs to own your sanity.
I am certain that “Don’t go falling in love with racehorses” is sound advice for those who want to keep a clear mind at the wagering window and winner’s circle. But, as I’ve found, it is simply impossible not to stand in awe and give your heart to a racehorse.
Perhaps, the old adage needs to be dusted up with a caveat, “If you fall in love with a racehorse, hope for victory, plan for heartbreak, pray for mending and put that horse first no matter where they land on the toteboard.” And possibly, find a church, therapist or wealth of superstitions to help you bear the weight of your 1,000 pound leap of faith.
One day, I found myself at Arlington Park staring at the John Henry statue. I was praying to John Henry that our horse didn’t get claimed. Yet, in the end, he was claimed.
A month later, I was praying to John Henry that we would win the two-way shake to get the same claiming horse back in the barn. And, in the end, he came home.
In the following weeks, I was praying to John Henry that my claiming horse would never have to race for a claiming tag again. And, in the end, my prayer was sadly answered in a very literal way.
My big gray horse injured himself a few days later and was retired from racing.
It led me to imagine that when Truman Capote said, “More tears are cried over answered prayers than unanswered ones,” he was at the race track that day. And, when I imagine Capote at the race track, he’d just had his heart broken by a magnificent horse as he stood in full-blown rapture of that athlete.
After my horse was injured, I asked someone, “When is it that you can safely love a racehorse?” And they replied, “When they are retired.” I suppose we could add that exception onto the old racing adage for the faint of heart.
Yet, I would rather lay my heart down and get ready for “anything” that follows. Because, what followed those prayers was the horse that I prayed to John Henry about on those desperate days. He won’t be racing for a claiming price. And, as for our marvelous plans for racing elsewhere, we amended them just as easily as we made them.
My big gray friend is on the road to recovery. With a lot of luck, he’ll race again in the future. Yet, with the little luck we treasure, he’ll reappear on the race track as a stable pony.
I can already see my gray guy, looking out on a brisk morning, surveying the horses as they carousel past him. When the workouts are over, the two of us can meet back at the barn, in quiet agreement, that it a pleasure to fall in love with a race horse.
It is a pleasure worth anything.
