by R L Bradberry

Created on: May 28, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Farewell to a Champion 5.3.08

Buried in work for most of the day, I glanced at the clock. Six p.m. I had promised myself I would do it this year: I would make it to the Kentucky Derby. But, as we all know, the best laid plans of mice and men often take turns we can not control. Still I took a moment, imagining the excitement, the crowds, the smell of horses, the sea of hats, the congenial banterings of my-horse-is-better-than-yours. All the trappings I longed for laced with the smells of horses, fine bourbon and mint.

My thoughts darkened briefly as I realized in less than eight minutes history would be made. Lives would be changed forever. The dark side of racing grazed my thoughts as I thought of those who don't make it. Anything can happen: a sprain, a bowed tendon, a cracked sesamoid, a fractured cannon bone, a burst heart. Silently, I said a prayer. And waited. By the grace of God they would all safely come home.

This large Derby field was as diverse in bloodlines as it was in experience. Some of the horses only ran on artificial tracks-manmade tracks meant to lessen injuries and maintain the health of the true athlete. Some ran only on turf, and some had a bit of experience on dirt. All of that produced fine fodder for the railbirds and others who intently watched as the three year olds prepared for the Big Day. The Kentucky Derby is tradition, and the best of the best run on the dirt.

The horses filled their gate positions full of fire and expectation. The early gated horses, impatient to get on with it, required steadying while the large field loaded up. Every eye was on the start, for once they are all in, they are gone. The field broke wildly and each horse seemingly leaped for the front. A living mass of energy and power, blood and bone, thundered down the track in the two minute quest for fame and glory. It can be the longest two minutes in the world.

Anything can happen in the Derby and it did. A come-from-behind horse ended up third, a great-striding filly came in second in the field of colts, and a youngster with only three races under his girth lit up the stretch to blaze under the wire by five lengths. Another wild card race proving anything is possible under the twin spires of Churchill Downs. My prayer answered, they all crossed the finish line safely.

Amid the excited embraces and the congratulatory pats on the back, the great-striding filly stretched and slowed in her run-out, her great heart beating wildly, filled with the adrenaline that would

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