CDIH

Quote:OPINION
By Vic Zast
MSNBC contributor
Updated: 5:07 p.m. ET Jan 30, 2007


Vic Zast
There are moments in a life that, like images in a photograph, take on different meanings when you look back at them.

From the memories that you have of these moments, you know exactly where you were and what was happening when they occurred. But they seem to become more vivid, and, in fact, unrealistic, over time.

Time allows you to ascribe more significance to certain memories than they actually deserve. After a period of detachment, your personal history of these happenings becomes part of a greater lore.

n this realm, some occasions that are merely historical become life changing. And some aspects of reality become myth. Out of myth, heroes are born.

These are not the thoughts that ran through the minds of legions of Barbaro fans when Roy and Gretchen Jackson put the Kentucky Derby winner down.

The time was not right for philosophy. The air was prepared for the let-down, but nobody is ever ready for the loss. Almost everyone would prefer to have the horse alive than to have him memorialized.

The emotions of Barbaro’s fans were stunned by his departure. They were hit with the gut-wrenching realization that his impossible odyssey was, at last, over, and they accepted it.

Such is the effect of death upon the ones left behind, even in those instances when you are hoping against hope and praying for miracles. The shock comes at you unexpectedly, confusing the system with inadequate resolve. Given time, the saga of Barbaro will become unbearable. No hero so intriguing deserves less. But, for now, only eulogies resound.

Barbaro is destined for a place beside Secretariat and Ruffian in that special category of horses that cause us to think differently about the sport. One can not explain why he came upon the scene when he did, or why he was the one to have suffered for our wonderment when, in fact, we were poised for the opposite. Yet, in the nine months that we knew of him, he raised the awareness for horse racing like no other horse in the last quarter century.

Barbaro will relegate Invasor’s status as Horse of the Year to being the answer of a trivia question. Like Elvis and JFK, and other pop icons, he will become greater in death than in life — if that is at all possible. His passing may be horse racing’s story of the decade, just as his recovery from surgery was the story of 2006.

Unfortunately, the legacy of Barbaro will be a sad one, even though it shouldn’t be. His time on the racetrack was brief, although brilliant. It is difficult to remember Barbaro as a racehorse. Yet, even then, he was amazing.

Barbaro won the Florida Derby despite starting from the far outside 10 post, a feat that is nearly impossible in two-turn races at Gulfstream Park. In addition, he won in the slop, on the turf, and on a fast track, proving to all that his talents were exceptional.

His Kentucky Derby was a tour de force that had experts predicting a Triple Crown sweep. As the second choice in the wagering, he defeated the competition by a margin of victory that was the widest since Assault 60 years ago.

Moreover, Barbaro’s trainer Michael Matz asked of Barbaro more than other trainers ask of Kentucky Derby winners, and got it. Matz gave Barbaro an unorthodox run-up to the big event, choosing to rest him five weeks, instead of the customary four, before turning him loose against one of the deepest and most balanced Derby fields in recent years.

No runner ever beat Barbaro — unless you want to count the ill-begotten Preakness Stakes in which he ran all of 200 yards.

Later, in retirement, the gallant horse emerged a symbol. He inspired thousands to join him in a struggle against the odds. He fought through a grueling surgery, overcame laminitis — a deadly disease, and remained treatable through setback after setback, as hundreds, maybe thousands, of compassionate Barbaro watchers kept their vigil.

In their efforts to keep Barbaro alive, the Jacksons became the embodiment of goodness. For all that the Jacksons did for him, they fulfilled our vision of how people should act toward each other, not just of how humans should relate to other living things.

In Dean Richardson, Barbaro’s soft-spoken surgeon, we witnessed an expert at work. He gave generously of his time, in the same way that the Jacksons gave generously of their money, and his reports from New Bolton Center gave us reassurance that whatever could be done was being done.

And, lastly, there were Barbaro’s fans to admire. For them, the daily news of the up and down struggle of the horse’s convalescence might have been a balm, but their infectious involvement in the lives of Barbaro, the Jacksons and Richardson was staunch. In times when the unanimity of humanity is unfound, the collective and unswerving support that they lent Barbaro and each other was admirable.

Many people might see Barbaro’s passing as nothing more than another sad turn in a sport already too burdened by tragic accident for its own good. Some may even turn bitter to horse racing as a result of the steady focus that Barbaro’s fight for life gave to the problem.

Nevertheless, Barbaro’s death will have a resounding effect that over the years will only grow larger and more phenomenal than it is already. The definition of greatness is found in the moments of transcendent effect similar to what happened Monday.

With the passing of Barbaro, for many reasons, the sport of horse racing lost a great one. Tomorrow, like the meaning of the image in a photo, his myth begins.
© 2007 MSNBC Interactive

Keyser Soze Wrote:deadspin puts barbaro in proper perspective