A couple of weeks ago, I had occasion to call (Thoroughbred) Hall of Fame Trainer, Leroy Jolley. We ended up talking for about 25 minutes, and I came away with a thought that I need to share with you.
When I hung up the phone, I was energized. Overjoyed. More certain than ever that horse racing is THE best sport in the world, if for only one reason:
Race horses–Arabians or Thoroughbreds–enjoy an almost manic fanbase. That fanbase is composed of those who just plain love the sport–but perhaps more important, the people who work directly with the horses, and in the background–are insanely in love with The Horse.
We are all fans, those of us who live, work and breathe horse racing. And because of that common adoration for the racing steed–regardless of breed–even our rock stars are completely, utterly and absolutely accessible.
I could call the great Leroy Jolley–one of the most-wise men I’ve ever known, so in tune with horses that he notices the fineness of the skin around a horse’s muzzle. I could walk by his barn,and expect at least a pleasant, Hello–if not actually an impromptu session in which I learn more about horses than I knew before the meet-up.
The stars of racing–horses, trainers, jockeys, owners–are, by-and-large, available to talk to fans. Yes, they’re interviewed by the media; their faces grace magazine covers and ESPN, MSG specials. But when the media wander off to The Next Big Story–those professionals in our sport are here, amongst us.
My dearest friend is a lifelong fan of the Dallas Cowboys. It blows his mind to know that I have access to the people and horses who make our sport happen. He’d give one of his teeth to be able to call Bill Parcells, Troy Aikman or Emmitt Smith. (I know nothing about football, and the only reason I know Emmitt’s name is that I watched him steam up the stage on Dancing with the Stars. The man was hot: I didn’t know his name before the show, but after he won that mirror ball, I came close to getting a tat with his initials.) 😉
I digress. While I can walk up to my favorite Arabian or Thoroughbred racing rock stars–they’re Out There in the open, any fan can say Hello if they want–while I enjoy this luxury, Walter would kill (well,maybe he’d maim)–for a similar opportunity, just once. A conversation with a Cowboy would make my dear friend’s year.
I think that we who love racing take this for granted. How many other sports have a fanbase (remember, that fanbase includes those who work in the industry)–a fanbase that includes sheikhs, princesses, captains of industry, “real” rock stars and just plain folks, like me? How many other athletic endeavours so capture the imagination that the members of that broad-spectrum fanbase creates an actual community?
Whether you encounter your favorite jockey in the Saratoga backstretch, or out in a restaurant–it’s a thrill, to be sure. But even more important, it’s like meeting up with a long-lost family member. The conversation will almost assuredly turn immediately to the most recent tragedy, triumph, retirement, auction or injury. Strangers who, if they had not The Horse in common, might not otherwise even meet–end up doing coffee together at the rail, taking notes of Tagg’s new two-year-old, and speculating about who’ll win the Hopeful.
This racing community is a family–my family. Your family. Yes, it’s dysfunctional in many ways–every community has its quirks, and things that need fixing. Butit’s also as strong as a cord of three strands. (Think, braid.) Whether you race Arabians or Thoroughbreds, or have just wandered into a track for the first time, and realize that this is where your heart belongs–you’re part of the community.
You love horses? We do, too, and that means that we’re all attached at the heart. Oh, certainly, there are those among us who cannot be bothered to interact with the public, or even with each other. That’s fine, that’s their groove. But the majority of the people–and horse–whom I’ve met in this sport are so entranced by the mighty equine that they recognize a kindred spirit when they meet her/him–and are eager to exchange ideas, thoughts and gripes.
I love this sport, because I’m nuts about horses. After that, I’m nuts about the people who make it happen, and the fans who lose their minds every time a horse thunders home. This is a community, a cultural phenomenon that is not seen in any other sport in the world.
We don’t have riots, we have festivals.
We don’t celebrate mere human achievement, we rejoice when a woman and a horse (or a man and a horse), moving as one unit, pound past our throbbing hearts and nearly kill us from pure joy.
This is why I love horse racing: we have the most accessible stars of any athletic enterprise, and yet their accessibility does not diminish the quality of their stardom. I pity my friends who are fans of football, baseball, basketball or soccer. They can’t pet the nose of Pele.
The only thing we can hope for them is that they see the light, and join our community. This is the sport in which abject, absolute, insane love is rewarded, 1,000-fold, to all who fall prey to the spell of The Horse. Welcome to our family, horse lovers–welcome Home.
