A Farewell to Horseracing: RIP Barbaro

My mom, now in her 60s, won’t watch horse racing anymore. Some years ago, she and my dad had gone to the track, and several horses in the field tumbled. Two horses were destroyed. It was enough for her to never want to see another race again.

For me and my dad, during my childhood, time at the track was father-daughter time—maybe an odd thing for family interest, but it was a way in which we both shared our love for horses. My dad still laughs at how long it took him to realize that my estimate of a horse as being “pretty” went far deeper into an analysis of the potential run ability. At just 12-years-old, and with only two years of riding lessons under my belt, I would go down to the paddock to watch the post parade and pick which horses I thought were pretty. After those horses won consistently, and the track handicappers were looking over my shoulder for my picks, my dad finally asked what I meant by “pretty.” I told him how I sized them up based on conformation and length of race—big, long-strided horses with nicely sloped shoulders for distance or close-coupled, compact, uphill built horses for short distances that required quick speed.

But the most recent tragedy with Barbaro has brought back memories of other track moments that I’ve tried to forget. Like the death of jockey Chris Antley just one year after his Kentucky Derby win aboard Charismatic. I had such a teenage crush on Antley when he raced at Monmouth Park, N.J. For those who watched the Triple Crown run in 1999, who could forget Charismatic’s Derby and Preakness win and the country’s hopes for a new Triple Crown winner as he moved into the Belmont?

Unfortunately, at the Belmont, Charismatic broke down in the stretch, losing his lead and finishing third, with his left front leg broken in two places. Antley’s immediately dismounted from the horse and as the cameras closed in on the jockey, who was holding up the horse’s left front hoof (and saving the animal’s life), tears streamed down the rider’s face.

Charismatic’s career may have ended there, but surgery saved his life. Unfortunately, Antley faced many demons in his life, including trying to make the weight to maintain his eligibility as a jockey, and ended up overdosing on drugs—a sad end to a talented rider who seemed to truly care for his mounts.

But the racing heartache really began in 1975 for me. I was 8 years old when Ruffian ran her last race—the match race against the top colt Foolish Pleasure. The moment of her breakdown is still fresh as I watched the race and its tragic end unfold with my parents—all of us rooting for the filly phenomenon. I didn’t understand what was happening as the filly was being pulled up, her hoof, flopping uselessly. I glanced at my father for an answer, but he looked stricken. My mother had her hand over her mouth in mid gasp. For someone who barely can recall what she ate for lunch yesterday, I’m amazed at how grotesquely clear the memory still remains fresh in my mind like it was just moments ago.

Remembering this moment, I look at my retired racehorse—now my dressage horse—a sweet, people- , horse- and dog-loving animal without a mean bone in her body-- and think that she could have easily been another track breakdowns statistic.

Now after Barbaro’s death, I’ve become like my mom, I just can’t watch horse racing anymore. Not until the racing rules change so they stop breaking and racing babies so young. I’ll start watching racing again when the industry gives these horses a better chance at maintaining their health and not breaking down.
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