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On Saturday American Pharoah (yes, that's really how you spell it) became the first horse in 37 years -- and only the 12th in history -- to win the Triple Crown. (If you really couldn't care less about horse racing, you might want to skip the rest of this because I'm about to squee like a horse-crazy little girl!)
THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE!!
First won by Sir Barton in 1919, The Triple Crown* is American thoroughbred racing's greatest feat: three races (the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont) in five weeks with the last one, at a mile and a half, the longest and most difficult. As a kid I had all the winners memorized, their names like a roll of drums and trumpets: Sir Barton, Gallant Fox, Omaha, War Admiral, Whirlaway, Count Fleet... I remember holding my breath watching Secretariat back in 1973 when he broke a 25-year drought, and then Seattle Slew just four years later.
And then nothing. For DECADES. A few times someone came close but it had been so long that there was actually talk of changing the requirements, an uneasy suspicion that thoroughbreds had been so intensely bred for speed that they were too fragile to hold up to three races in five weeks, never mind that grueling mile and a half length of the last one. When American Pharoah won the Derby last month and then the Preakness (in a pouring rain), yes, there were hopes -- but we were all used to disappointment.
So when he took the lead right from the gate yesterday, I was so excited I could hardly speak coherently; I yelled, I screamed, I jumped up and down, and yes, I cried as he came sweeping up to the wire like he had wings. He didn't just make it look easy, he made it look inevitable.
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A friend of mine, who knows a bit about thoroughbred racing, did a lovely post about what it means to the horse racing world, and even the relatively staid New York Times let a bit of excitement show through.
So yeah, this totally made my weekend :)
* I speak here of the US version; England, Ireland, Canada and many other countries have their own, equally challenging, Triple Crowns.
THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE!!
First won by Sir Barton in 1919, The Triple Crown* is American thoroughbred racing's greatest feat: three races (the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont) in five weeks with the last one, at a mile and a half, the longest and most difficult. As a kid I had all the winners memorized, their names like a roll of drums and trumpets: Sir Barton, Gallant Fox, Omaha, War Admiral, Whirlaway, Count Fleet... I remember holding my breath watching Secretariat back in 1973 when he broke a 25-year drought, and then Seattle Slew just four years later.
And then nothing. For DECADES. A few times someone came close but it had been so long that there was actually talk of changing the requirements, an uneasy suspicion that thoroughbreds had been so intensely bred for speed that they were too fragile to hold up to three races in five weeks, never mind that grueling mile and a half length of the last one. When American Pharoah won the Derby last month and then the Preakness (in a pouring rain), yes, there were hopes -- but we were all used to disappointment.
So when he took the lead right from the gate yesterday, I was so excited I could hardly speak coherently; I yelled, I screamed, I jumped up and down, and yes, I cried as he came sweeping up to the wire like he had wings. He didn't just make it look easy, he made it look inevitable.
[Error: unknown template video]
A friend of mine, who knows a bit about thoroughbred racing, did a lovely post about what it means to the horse racing world, and even the relatively staid New York Times let a bit of excitement show through.
So yeah, this totally made my weekend :)
* I speak here of the US version; England, Ireland, Canada and many other countries have their own, equally challenging, Triple Crowns.
