Monday Morning Memories

I wasn’t alive when it happened, but every year I go to YouTube and watch it again: Secretariat’s run at the Belmont Stakes.

I’m the most casual of horse racing fans. I try to watch about ten minutes every year–the three races in the Triple Crown. My wife and kids now actually enjoy watching the three races too. (For the record, I had Oxbow, my son had Orb, and my other son at Revolutionary in all three races; we don’t pick longshots.) And now that they are a tad bit interested, I will make them watch the 1973 Belmont Stakes.

I’ve seen it dozens of times, but I’m still mesmerized by Secretariat’s amazing feat. The large chestnut colt they called “Big Red” didn’t just destroy the field by 31 lengths (1/16th of a mile), he so completely demolished the track record–a record that still stands–that he would have beaten the previous record holder Gallant Man by 13 lengths. Chic Anderson got it right in his famous call: Secretariat was moving like a tremendous machine.

Lost in the unsurpassed greatness of Secretariat is how good his competitor Sham was forty years ago. As Joe Posnanski pointed out in an excellent article over the weekend, Sham’s run at the Kentucky Derby should have been one for the ages. He finished 8 lengths in front of the rest of the field, with a blistering time of 1:59.8, still the second fastest time in history. Sham was the best horse that day and the best horse to ever run the Derby–except, of course, for Secretariat who beat him by two and a half lengths. And then there’s Secretariat’s move at the Preakness, going from last to first in a matter of seconds. It’s almost as famous as his Belmont run. Just like Clyde Drexler and Patrick Ewing might have been great champions had they not played in the age of MJ, Sham might be remembered as one of the greatest horses of all time, if he hadn’t been born in the wrong year.

Without getting too spiritual about a horse, I think we can find echoes of the divine in our fascination with Secretariat. We love to watch greatness. We love to re-live and re-watch the impossible made possible. We love to see the greatest there ever was. And I think we love Secretariat all the more because he was just a horse. He never said the wrong thing, never was caught at the wrong party, never disgraced his fans or family. Forty years later he is still that singular victor, without blemish or spot, frozen in history with nothing but power, greatness, and grace. Yes, even a horse reminds us we were made for something more.