Nostalgic Horse

By Elizabeth Rancani

It has been said by some who really know nothing about horse racing that Roy and Gretchen Jackson tried to save Barbaro because of how valuable he would have been at stud. True, he would have been valuable indeed. He may have earned $100,000 per live foal and could have had upwards of over 100 foals a year. He would have made more money as a stallion than he could have possibly made at the track. He had an excellent pedigree, speed, stamina and a little something more. He had that illusion that he would have succeeded in winning the Triple Crown. Now, there is no way any of us could know if he would have worn the elusive crown. It is nice to think he would have, but breeders would have lined up nonetheless.

He was not saved to be a stallion. There was no way of knowing if he ever would have been able to bear his entire body on his back legs, and as a stallion he would have had to do that repeatedly. Anyone who saw his healed back leg, still had to wonder if with this new deformity, that was even a possibility.

Roy and Gretchen Jackson could not have known if it would be possible, and they didn’t save him with dollar signs in their eyes. He was their first Derby winner, and while I don’t seriously think all that effort would have been made if he had finished last in the Derby, or never made it to the Derby at all, he had a particular sentiment attached to him, and they decided to give his coin toss odds a shot.

When I watched the Preakness at home on my sofa, my first thought was of this little boy who used to be in my class named Daeshon. He loved the horses, and was always bringing in articles he had on the then hero Smarty Jones. He wanted to be a jockey when he grew up, and eagerly listened as I told him about the old time greats. His mom had taken him to Philly Park on numerous occasions just to catch a glimpse of Smarty. He was sure he was going to be a Triple Crown winner. I thought of how he must have felt seeing Barbaro break down, no doubt his new idol, and I remember how when I was a few years older than him, I saw the beautiful filly, Go For Wand’s horrific end. That day, there was no silver lining for me with the filly. She was gone before the next race began. I cried my eyes out that night, and it was then that my father told me about the first time he saw it happen. The horse he lost was Ruffian.

Daeshon awoke Sunday morning and undoubtably watched the news for any word on Barbaro’s condition. I smile when I think, he probably made his mother send the champion some apples or even peppermints. Maybe they even drove over and hung a card on the railing. We don’t live all that far from New Bolton. Barbaro was given a chance not for monetary reasons but for Daeshon, and all the people that day who adopted Barbaro as their own after his Derby win. They awoke with hope and held onto that for eight months. It seemed that Barbaro was going to make it. I saw the Preakness, and his xrays, and I shook my head. I told my upset mother that night, that I didn’t think he was going to make it. Six months later, I thought he just might. And maybe years down the road when a cure for laminitis is found another horse just like Barbaro will pull through, and the broken hearted little boys watching will be able to watch the next race without a knot in their stomach. But for now hope is all we have left.

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