The Finest...

As long as we are on the subject of animals, another thought has come to mind – if you will indulge… we will shift from the sublime to the gorblimey. In more definable terms, from the mundane to the magnificent.

In 1973, an event happened that rocked the sporting world to it’s collective heels. The event was so rare as to qualify as a singularity. We may never see it’s like again.

The event? Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby. And won it in a way that did not merely defeat the field – but erased them. (As in: Which horse did Secretariat beat? WHO CARES?)

Although he went on to capture the triple Crown, the Preakness and the Belmont were mere afterthoughts compared to the running at the Derby. The Derby is a 12-furlong race – a furlong being 1/8 of a mile. Somewhere in the middle of the race, Secretariat, having adopted a stalking horse position early, broke for the lead and began pushing up the leader. The pace, already fast, became in the words of the announcers – suicidal. The leader faltered and Secretariat took the lead.

Then an amazing event! Another horse challenged at the already breakneck speed. Secretariat wore him down and dispensed with him. At the penultimate turn, Secretariat had it won. Handily.

Then it happened. IT. Happened. Yes, it.

Secretariat sped up. He began to pull away rapidly from an already fast race. You saw it as a disturbance at the corner of your eye – and then your attention shifted. The video of this race shows it well – and like great books, does not suffer for being enjoyed over and over. He just kept speeding up. (“Oh yeah? Watch this!”)

At the line, he had a 31-length lead over the next horse. The camera pauses for a moment on empty track. 7 seconds of silence. Then the other horse comes into view.

The crowd was alternately stunned, silent, weeping, yelling crazily. Jack Nicklaus, the golfer, had held a Derby party. During the race, he fell onto his floor on hands and knees, pounding the floor, and yelling. His guests were mildly discomfited, I am sure.

In retelling the story afterwards to his friend, a broadcaster, Nicklaus stated: “I am not sure why I did that.”

The broadcaster responded: “Because you have spent your entire life seeking perfection. And you finally saw it.”

Secretariat won all his races in the remaining short career he had left, but was soon retired to stud because he was just too valuable to risk injury. He earned crazy money at stud for 16 years. Towards the end of his senescence, he developed laminitis, a highly painful hoof condition (imagine carrying 1400 pounds on your ingrown toenails) and had to be put down.

I dislike the term vet, preferring to call them what they are: Doctors. In fact, they are uberdoctors, being able to treat patients that cannot communicate. An autopsy was performed by one of these doctors, who discovered that Secretariat’s heart was twice as big as average (an average equine heart weighs 9 pounds). The doctor remarked that it was easily 1/3 bigger than the largest he had ever seen. Not pathological or deformed – all the valves and chambers were correct – just bigger.

Certain lessons may occur to you.

One is given too few chances to observe perfection, but they do come. The Berlin Wall fell. The concentration camps were liberated (If you want to see perfection, go to your library and obtain the films made when the Army entered the camps and liberated the survivors). And Secretariat ran like nothing had ever run. Why? Probably because he could – and we could not.

If he had been asked, he probably would have echoed Eric Liddell: “I feel God’s pleasure when I run.” Liddell felt he had to explain the connection.

Secretariat would have thought it was a stupid question.