Barbaro: a legacy of inspiration

When I woke up this morning, for the first time in over eight months, I didn’t immediately log onto the Blood Horse to see how Barbaro was. I already knew the answer. Last year’s Kentucky Derby winner, who won every race he finished, was euthanized yesterday morning due to complications from his breakdown in the Preakness. For those who followed the story, it’s impossible to believe yet that it’s over, especially not after Barbaro’s vet, Dr. Dean Richardson, said as recently as Jan. 2 that he thought the colt would be able to leave the hospital within weeks and live a normal, healthy life.

I can’t help thinking that things weren’t supposed to go this way. Barbaro was one of the best horses I’ve ever seen in terms of sheer talent—and I’ve seen a lot of horses. He was fast, he was brilliant and beautiful, and more than that—he was perfect. In six starts through the Kentucky Derby, he was never beaten, or even seriously challenged. He had heart—maybe more than anyone realized at the time. And he had style. The way he won the Derby, I really thought we were looking at the first Triple Crown winner in nearly three decades. That’s the way he deserves to be remembered.

The rest of it…I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. After the five hour surgery to repair his shattered leg, the colt’s rocky road began. By all accounts, "Bobby," as his owners called him, was a model patient, even when struck with the dreaded and painful hoof disease laminitis in July—the same condition that was responsible for the death of 1973 Triple Crown winner Secretariat. The colt got to have many more good days. And when it finally got to be too much, when it was time to let him go, his owners, Roy and Gretchen Jackson, were by his side until the end. Words are not enough—but my deepest condolences go out to them. If my heart is breaking, I cannot imagine what they are feeling.

"Certainly, grief is the price we all pay for love," Gretchen Jackson said at a press conference that afternoon.

It’s been over 24 hours now. It’s beginning to settle in. and I’m beginning to wonder what Barbaro’s legacy will be. I’ll remember his brilliance, of course. I’ll remember the Derby. But I’ll also remember the night after the Preakness, when I couldn’t sleep and sat up all night talking to other racing-enthused friends, fearing the worst, hoping for the best. I’ll remember the weeks following the accident, when every media outlet in the country focused on New Bolton; when an American public that normally doesn’t care about racing whatsoever, got behind Barbaro. I’ll remember how people covered the fences outside the barn with signs reading things like "God bless Barbaro," "Grow, hoof, grow," and "Keep fighting—our hero." How they mailed get-well cards to a horse. Now you know all those people weren’t from the same walks of life, the same religion, the same political party…somehow, they all believed in the same thing. That’s rare to see. I’ll remember Barbaro for being able to do that.

But more than that, I’ll remember that Barbaro inspired me. Life is not always perfect. Sometimes, things don’t turn out the way you had hoped or planned. It’s hard sometimes, it’s painful sometimes, and for lack of a better word, it just sucks sometimes. But there is no reason to not live, to not love. Even if, as Gretchen Jackson said, grief is the necessary consequence. I truly believe it’s worth it. Love is worth it. Believing in Barbaro was worth it, even in there will never be a happy ending. To paraphrase a movie I liked when I was little, maybe there is no such thing as a happy ending, because nothing truly ends. Physically, Barbaro may be gone, but certainly, we have memories. We have his legacy. And there is also the $1.2 million raised for the New Bolton Center through the "Barbaro Fund," which will go toward improving veterinary research and covering medical expenses for other injured racehorses.

Yesterday I went to class in the morning thinking of Barbaro. I knew about the latest setbacks, but I was hopeful. I believed he could make it. I walked out of class an hour later and found a text from my roommate. I opened it not knowing—"rip barbaro. im so sorry." I had class in five minutes. I stood in front of Basil with my legs shaking, not able to believe it. And then I walked to class. Because that’s how you honor a spirit like Barbaro’s.

I encourage everyone, in their darkest moment, to find "your" Barbaro. Find what inspires you, and let that be your drive to make it through the day. Let that be your inspiration. To keep living. To take risks. To get hurt. To take risks again. To tell someone you love them. To fight, against all odds.

"We were very lucky, very lucky," Jackson said of getting to be a part of Barbaro’s all-too-short life. Certainly, racing fans everywhere were lucky, too. Not just for getting to witness some of the more spectacular performances on the track in recent years, but for getting to witness the kind of courage and heart that’s so rare these days. Certainly, we grieve for the way it ended. But Jackson’s statement that followed is comfort enough for me.

"At least he’s out of his damn stall and running around somewhere with Secretariat, I hope."

Rest in peace, Bobby. You’ll never be forgotten.