Life, death and the Derby

(AP Photo/Brian Bohannon)

I had this blog all written in my head -- about commercialism taking over sports. But I had to change topics to talk about a magnificent horse.

Eight Belles was one heck of a filly, folks. I grew up in horse country, where life stands still for Kentucky Derby day so you can gather with friends and family, put on a silly hat, and watch the race together.

The best comparison a co-worker came up with for Utahns to understand Kentucky Derby fever is that it's kind of like Pioneer Day in Utah.

The Derby is actually the end of a minimum of a week-long festival, with the Pegasus Parade, a hot-air balloon race, live music on the Ohio Riverfront, the "ladies race" the day before (that's the Oaks) and so on. It kicks off with something called Thunder Over Louisville, a massive fireworks display that makes New York's Fourth of July shindig look like a few kids holding sparklers.

But at the end of the day, it's really about the horses... those magnificent, intelligent creatures. There was Man O' War, considered by some the best horse in racing history -- who actually never ran the Kentucky Derby, although he won the Preakness and the Belmont. There was Secretariat, who did run in the Derby -- and won the Triple Crown in 1973. There was Seattle Slew, another Triple Crown winner (1977) -- I actually covered his funeral. (That's a story for another day, I'm afraid!)

But from childhood on, it was always the fillies that captured my attention and captivated my imagination. I read The Black Stallion with relish, but it was The Black Stallion's Filly who won my eleven-year-old heart.

So I followed the career of this nearly-black filly, Eight Belles, with quite a bit of interest. Could she do what the horse of my childhood book had done? Could she beat all the boys and win the Run for the Roses?

This filly had a powerful record. She won her last four races before going to Churchill Downs, one of them by fifteen lengths. Only 38 fillies had even tried to Run for the Roses before Eight Belles gave it her best shot. Only three have ever succeeded -- Winning Colors in 1988, Genuine Risk in 1980, and Regret in 1915.

So I watched the race, preparing in my head to gripe online about the intrusion of commercialism into my beloved Derby. Come on, people, jockeys wear silks to represent the farm of their horse! They don't need logos on their jodhpurs.

But then Big Brown won the race, and... what was that? His jockey hopped off when the horse got spooked by something. The realization took a minute to set in. Something was wrong with the filly.

I've never even heard of a horse breaking her two front legs at once. But coming from horse country, I know that even one broken leg is a big deal. Some horses can overcome it, but the risks of recovery are almost worse than the initial injury -- infection can set in and spell death for the horse. Part of the problem is the distribution of weight on the other feet. Three hooves can take it. Two? Probably not. Horses may look dainty and graceful, but they're gentle giants carrying a lot of weight!

I knew as soon as they pulled the two horse ambulances onto the track it was bad news for our girl. I told my family, "They're blocking her from view. They're going to put her down!" I'd heard of a horse being euthanized on the spot, but I'd never seen it happen before. And the horse was clearly in distress.

All the wrangling about the use of the whip, the decision to euthanize so soon -- it's puzzling to me, but I guess in part because that's a way of life where I grew up. If the animal is clearly in such intense pain and she's not going to make it anyway, why prolong her anguish? Using the whip to keep her from crashing into the rail -- well, of course. Let's keep her from injuring herself anymore than she has to be.

Goodbye, Eight Belles. You were a beauty. Here's wishing you some of that happy pasture in the sky, and all the carrots and apples you could ask for.