Smarty, Smarty, Missed the Party


Wherein Our Heroine Mulls Horse Sense.
I feel really sorry for Smarty Jones. The Belmont Stakes this year was the most exhilarating, disappointing, deafening race I have ever seen. Deafening because John was booming "GO SMARTY" in my ear (never knew the man liked a horse-race before. Go figure). Disappointing because Smarty was pipped just before the post by a relative unknown, a bay called Birdstone. Exhilarating because it had all the hallmarks of a fantastic race - the undefeated Favorite: the little horse that could; his tall, regal, temperamental rival; the tight three-way contest that broke out near the start; the little horse that could pulling away from his pursuers; and finally the emergence of another little horse that could who passed the Favorite for the 36-1 longshot.

It is, of course, unknown whatever Smarty himself felt when Birdstone sailed past him and beat him by a length. It is likely that he was peeved, though. I once owned a little chestnut horse who always wanted to be first like Smarty. He was, frankly, a pain in the butt when he was forced to go second in something as tame as a trail ride. I imagine that Smarty probably reached inside himself for more speed, and was surprised when it wasn't there, then forgot about it as the world swirled about and Birdstone got the blanket of roses thrown over his shoulders. The race itself is everything for him - once it is over, the aftermath of joy and sadness belong to the humans.

Nice to be a horse, I guess.

Notice: Our Heroine's In-Laws are visiting through Wednesday. Content provision may (or may not) be erratic as she attempts to balance hostess duties with webly duties.
Posted: Monday - June 07, 2004 at 07:45 AM         | |

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