Praying for Barbaro

Well, kiddies, Saturday really broke my heart. My father's ghost ensured that not only did I dream of him the night before, I tuned into horse racing where Barbaro, this year's Kentucky Derby winner, snapped his leg in three places. It's a miracle the jockey was able to dismount without being thrown overhead.

Horse racing was a passion of dad's, having lived part of the year in Haverstraw NY with acres and acres of land as a boy. He didn't become a cat person until I came into his life, but he was a horse and dog lover. I think he loved to watch them run. He wasn't much for the saddle (they hurt his hips and back), but many a carrot was shared when they nuzzled him at the gates. I'm not romanticizing his Damon Runyon-esque existence since he did gamble a bit too much on the ponies at times, but I understood the roots--watching these creatures run is exhilarating. I get caught up in it myself and can almost forgive those $20 bets that should have put milk and bread on the table.

Barbaro reminds me of the first time I heard about Ruffian, one of the greatest fillies that suffered a horrid demise. The year was 1975 or 76, I was a baby and everyone--particularly women--were talking about this horse. The name is seared into my memory. It was set to be a match race, one on one, and this horse was supposed to take it all. For the life of me, I can't remember the competitor's name. She did what she was trained to do: break out of the gate, run, run, and cross the finish line. That didn't happen. Ruffian's leg snapped midway through the race and she had to be put down. In the early years of the women's movement, many bemoaned that they had to live their victory through a horse. A horse that failed. Ruffian was buried on the track.

I thought of this yesterday and wondered just how well Barbaro's holding up. They're certainly giving this magnificent creature some real chances--in year's past, they'd grab the needle and put him down. Today's CNN coverage shows Barbaro wrapped in blue blankets and his back leg bandaged. Horses need all fours. Two main arteries are the only blood supply to the legs right before the hoof. Imagine that: such perfect creatures with a tiny design flaw. Lose circulation, and essentially, you lose the horse. They can put him to stud, but no triple crown. There's still a 50/50 chance something could go wrong, but I hope not. Barb was only doing what he was trained to do--I hope he outlasts the odds.

What would Dad say...I can only speculate.