Happy Birthday, Man O’War!

mano27warLast year, I wrote a blog post (or two) in celebration of the 100th birthday of Sir Barton, the namesake of this particular website and the project I’ve spent most of the last four years writing. I live daily with Sir Barton and his connections; I’ve likely done more research on that horse, his owners, his trainer, his breeder, and others than anyone else ever has. Wherever Sir Barton went in his life, I follow in whatever way I can given the time elapsed between us. Inevitably, though, our journey intertwines with another chestnut colt, so ubiquitous in reputation that even people who may not know a thing about thoroughbred racing have heard of this horse.

Man O’War.

Rival

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Ticket to Kenilworth Park for Man O’War v. Sir Barton, October 12, 1920.

As an Alabama native, I’ve had the concept of rivalries and their import burned into my brain since infancy. Alabama v. Auburn. Purple v. Gold. Federer v. Nadal. Yankees v. Red Sox. For me, as I sit here day in and day out, living and breathing the past, the rivalry between Sir Barton and Man O’War stands paramount.

We like to create rivalries if they don’t emerge naturally; they capture our imagination as we see the struggle and we identify with one or the other. We root for the one we see ourselves in and our highs and lows ebb and flow with their successes and losses. In 1920, Man O’War had bested every horse that crossed his path; even Upset, the one horse that had beaten him, had seen the back of him more than once. With no three-year-old in his class, turf writers and fans looked to the older horses to find a horse that might be able to play spoiler to Big Red.

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Exterminator.

Two names came to mind: Exterminator and Sir Barton. While Sir Barton, though, was the primary one. His performances in August, including his track record in the 1 1/4-mile Saratoga Handicap, made him the primary candidate for the job. Whether his connections liked it or not, the clamor for the two to meet became daily fodder for turf writers. Long before social media, the daily newspapers and the machinations of promoters like Colonel Matt Winn made a match race not only desirable, but a virtual inevitability.

 

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Sir Barton Trails Man O’War in the Kenilworth Gold Cup

The only problem? The competition wasn’t quite ready to be competitive. While Man O’War blazed through his three-year-old year with minor qualms about soundness, Sir Barton ran his entire career teetering on the verge of long-term lameness. When the match race was run, Sir Barton blew by Man O’War for a furlong or so, but the twenty-eight-foot stride soon eclipsed whatever lead the Triple Crown winner had. Sir Barton straggled along as best he could, but, as Hollie Hughes confirmed, the Triple Crown winner was not at 100% after his eight starts in 1920, including three in the month of August. With only a few strides, Man O’War collapsed the rivalry into his clear supremacy over Sir Barton and his career of firsts, including the first Triple Crown, an honor which Man O’War himself doesn’t have.

Icon

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Man O’War at three.

With the victory, Man O’War took his place as THE icon of American racing. Not until Secretariat came along did anyone ever come close to the fame that followed Big Red wherever he went. In 1920, he and Babe Ruth were chosen as outstanding athletes of the year. He was retired to stud when handicapper Walter Vosburgh told owner Samuel Riddle that he would assign Man O’War the highest weight he had ever given any horse, 150 pounds. Riddle promptly retired his champion, who had won 20 of 21 starts and, in the process, became the measuring stick by which every horse to come after him was compared — until another Big Red came along in the early 1970s.

The colt stood at Riddle’s Faraway Farm until his death in 1947. His remains were moved to the Kentucky Horse Park in the 1970s along with a bronze statue emblazoned with only “Man O’War,” no other text needed. When Big Red died, over 2,000 people attended his funeral, which was also broadcast nationwide on NBC Radio. Buglers from the Man O’War Post of the American Legion, clad in the Riddle silks, played “Taps” and racetracks across the country observed a moment of silence as the world said goodbye to the greatest racehorse anyone had ever seen.

Eclipse

SBConfirmationFor all that Sir Barton accomplished in his career, his loss to Man O’War and their coinciding careers meant that Big Red came to eclipse his rival despite the first Triple Crown winner’s historic achievement. Sir Barton’s racing career was more mixed and not nearly as dominant as Man O’War’s. His success at stud was more muted; he did produce a number of stakes winners of his own, including Easter Stockings, who won the 1928 Kentucky Oaks. His time out west as part of the Remount Service means that his bloodlines may live on in horses of other breeds who would be descended from the cavalry horses that the Remount needed to produce.

For all that Sir Barton did on the track, Man O’War’s shadow looms larger than life and the evidence of that is everywhere, in print, in bloodlines, and in the long memory of thoroughbred racing history.

Legend

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Seabiscult vs. War Admiral

His racing record and running style might have nabbed him the moniker of Greatest Of All Time (GOAT), but his record at stud cemented it for all time. His descedents include a Triple Crown winner (War Admiral — 1937), Kentucky Derby winners, one Grand National winner (Battleship), and more. As the generations stretched on, his influence grew. Man O’War shows up in the pedigrees of horses like Seabiscuit, Seattle Slew, Affirmed, Alysheba, Zenyatta, American Pharoah, and more. Man O’War’s influence comes from both his sire and broodmare lines and most, if not all, of the current horses on the Triple Crown trail have Man O’War in their pedigree somewhere.

Today, visitors can visit Man O’War along with some of his progeny, like War Admiral, at the end of a walkway which compares his stride to other champions, like Secretariat. He was part of the first class inducted into the National Racing Museum and Hall of Fame in 1957; Sir Barton was also part of that inaugural class, despite the turn into obscurity his career had taken once he left racing.

logoIn addition to his place in the Hall of Fame, Man O’War was voted the best horse of the 20th century by both The Blood-Horse magazine, Sports Illustrated, and the Associated Press. His life has been the subject of several books, including Man O’War: A Legend Like Lightning by Dorothy Ours, an excellent and extensive biography of America’s greatest race horse. Both the National Racing Museum and Hall of Fame and the Kentucky Horse Park will hold sizeable celebrations in honor of Big Red’s 100th birthday, fitting tributes to the horse that captured the country’s imagination nearly 100 years ago and hasn’t left our cultural consciousness since.

Favorites

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Man O’War statue at the Kentucky Horse Park. Photo credit: Frances J. Karon.

In these days leading up to Man O’War’s birthday, I’ve encountered a number of people who are excited about these celebrations. For them, Man O’War is their horse; he might have the one that piqued their interest initially and prompted the love for individual horses that we all have. I understand their ardor because I have the same for Sir Barton, but the rivalry still lives on in me. For every accolade accorded Man O’War on his 100th, I wish for the same for Sir Barton at 101. I can’t think of one without the other; Man O’War likely would have still been the greatest ever if he had never met Sir Barton, but their confrontation contributed something to his sparkle. Their one meeting certainly was enough to dull the shine on the first Triple Crown winner’s reputation over time, one of my greatest motivations for shining a light on Sir Barton again with this blog and First.

In order for a horse to remain in thoroughbred racing consciousness beyond his time on the track, he must capture the racing world in a way that leaves an indelible mark on all who saw him. Short of our Triple Crown winners, few horses remain on our collective radars once they hit the breeding shed. In a sport where the next star rises as soon as the last one exits, for Man O’War to remain such an icon speaks to his excellence on the track and off. Only a truly great horse can survive the test of time and Riddle’s Red shows no signs of ever losing his place as the GOAT of thoroughbred racing.

Happy Birthday, Man O’War, from a grudging admirer!

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His Name Was Johnny

johnnyHe was born John Patrick Loftus in Chicago, Illinois, the son of parents who had immigrated to the United States from Ireland. His father was an engineer; his mother birthed five sons: John, Martin, David, Frank, and Robert. Nothing in his background made horses a clear choice for young Johnny, but, nevertheless, he gravitated toward the racing life and made it his own.

Determination

When Johnny came of age, he was attracted to horses just as the racetracks around him closed, felled by the movement against gambling in the United States. Unscrupulous gamblers and the resultant scandals led to a wave of anti-gambling legislation in the United States. By the time young Johnny Loftus rode in his first race in 1909, the racing world within the vast expanse of American soil was shrinking down to just Kentucky and Maryland, with limited racing in far-flung corners like Jacksonville, Florida, where young Mr. Loftus rode his first race. He finished last.

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Johnny Loftus on George Smith, 1916 Kentucky Derby winner, Loftus’ first.

Not an auspicious start to his career, but the young Loftus was determined to make a go of it. He loved horses, inhaled them even, content to sleep in their stalls and learn everything he could about them. Horses responded to him; he learned to become a master of pace, knowing how fast the horses around him were going and judging when to move his own mount in response. The skills he acquired in his years of traveling from place to place in search of mounts netted him wins in prestigious races like the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, the Travers Stakes, and more. He rode the big name horses of the day: Exterminator, Regret, War Cloud, and more.

His biggest problem wasn’t getting the mounts, though; it was his physique. Loftus teetered on the brink of unemployment with every pound. His powerful legs might have helped him balance on the brief width of leather beneath him, but those muscles were also weight that he couldn’t shed. Johnny tried to ride at 110 pounds or less; often, he couldn’t manage to get below 112. A brief stint in Europe and the heavier weights horses carried there gave him some respite from the struggle, but, when he returned to the United States, the fight was on again. He could never escape the ravages of weight, but it wouldn’t stop his ascendency either. Johnny Loftus was one of the elite riders of his day, and, as a master of pace; his services would be needed for one Commander JKL Ross to win the 1919 Kentucky Derby and his bet with Arnold Rothstein.

Elite

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Johnny Loftus on Sir Barton after the 1919 Kentucky Derby.

The 1919 Kentucky Derby showed just how tough a fight it was for Loftus to maintain his weight. Sir Barton was assigned 110 pounds, the beneficiary of a twelve-pound break in weight because of his maiden status. His jockey Johnny had a body that rebelled against such light imposts; Sir Barton carried 112.5 pounds because Loftus’s physique, already haggard and sunken from the battles with weight, refused to shed the difference. The extra weight meant little to Commander Ross; Loftus was still one of the best jockeys in the country. He piloted Sir Barton exactly as planned, sending the speedy colt to the front with unexpected results: rather than burning off the speed horses and giving way to his stablemate Billy Kelly, Sir Barton won a wire-to-wire Kentucky Derby in the slop. The Derby winner’s circle photo shows Loftus looking lean and hungry, unable to crack a smile despite the fact that he had just won his second Kentucky Derby. That struggle with weight might mean that Loftus would ride a pound or so overweight, but his skills and record were such that it never seemed to matter to his employers. Johnny had more than his fair share of winners, with 580 winners from 2,449 mounts in his ten-year career.

In his career, Loftus won most of the major American stakes races, including the classics and, of course, the first Triple Crown. He rode Man O’War, Sir Barton, War Cloud, Regret, and many more top horses of that era. The first part of the twentieth century was a time when jockeys had no union and operated with contracts that could be bought and sold like the horses they rode, but Loftus was among the elite, riding for the top owners of the day, including A.K. Macomber, Commander JKL Ross, H.P. Whitney, and Samuel Riddle. For all of the laurels he collected, though, he has the misfortune of one black mark on his record: the 1919 Sanford Memorial Stakes.

Controversy

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Man O’War.

One of the first skills that jockeys in this era had to learn was how to balance the plethora of sensory inputs that were the starting barrier for any race. Long before the starting gate became a reality, horses stood in front of a stretched white fabric webbing before them which marked the starting line. On a stand on the other side of the rail was the starter, a man whose goal was to get all of the horses standing still and facing forward in line at the same time and then releasing them. Assistant starters, usually strapping men with horse whips, stood behind them, helping to get anyone unruly into line. Jockeys needed to have their own mounts in position while also watching for the starter to pull the lever and spring the barrier to start the race and do all of this with any number of other horses and jockeys trying to do the same thing. Kicks and shouts and false starts were all trials to be borne for the chance at the perfect start. Loftus mastered this skill as did many of the era’s greatest jockeys, all angling for the flying start that would catch their mounts already in stride as the barrier gave way to the action.

August 13, 1919 saw Saratoga without their usual starter, Mars Cassidy. Loftus was well aware of Cassidy’s tells, but was not at all familiar with his replacement Charles Pettingill. Pettingill, who had once been a starter before becoming a judge, was known for the seeming inability to do his job; a number of the races on the Saratoga card that day had terrible starts, with Pettingill unable to keep things tidy and orderly. Then came the Sanford Memorial Stakes.

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Upset and Man O’War at the finish of the 1919 Sanford Memorial Stakes.

Laden with 130 pounds, Man O’War was one of the high weights in the race, Golden Broom the other, also with 130 pounds. Loftus’s instructions were to let Golden Broom set the pace and then to move when he tired, rather than running on the front. The race was only six furlongs with every other horse massive underdogs next to the strapping Big Red. All Johnny had to do was avoid trouble and surely this start would end as all of the others would, with Red coming home first. Pettingill’s inability to get the horses at the start under control meant that Loftus, trying to get Man O’War back into position for a fresh start, wasn’t ready for the lever’s fall. The field got a jump on him and the greatest horse of the 20th century was nearly left at the post.

Doing his best to follow instructions, Johnny kept his mount behind the front runners, but soon realized that he was boxed in. Upset kept Golden Broom close to the rail, preventing him from squeezing through when the latter might bear out on the turn. Next to him was Donnaconna, just back on his flank. If he took Man O’War to the outside, going around all of this horseflesh, he would expend quite a bit of energy, that 130 pounds telling on any mortal body. If they stayed where they were, they would have to wait for an opportunity or create it. Loftus tried to create it, shouting for room to come through. Neither Golden Broom nor Upset gave way. The box was closing quickly as the ground between them and the finish line grew smaller and smaller.

man-o-war-cc-cook1539Finally, Golden Broom gave way, the 130-pound impost too much. He fell back, leaving only one horse in front, and finally Loftus was able to swing Big Red to the outside. With only a furlong left, Loftus unleashed Man O’War, urging him to make up ground. Willie Knapp, Upset’s jockey, did the same on his mount and, though the gap between the two was starting to close, the bare furlong turned in mere yards and then only feet for Man O’War to close the gap and then eclipse Upset. But Upset carried only 115 pounds to Man O’War’s 130 pounds, enough to make a difference. The crazy start plus the rough trip meant that despite every inch of the twenty-eight-foot stride that Man O’War possessed was not enough to catch the elusive Upset. They crossed the finish line, with the aptly named Upset a bare half-length in front. In the next couple of strides, Man O’War had caught the upstart, but it was too little too late.

It would be Man O’War’s only loss. It would contribute to Loftus’s undoing.

Legacy

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Sir Barton & Johnny Loftus (Voss portrait – National Museum of Racing & Hall of Fame)

Despite going on to win three more starts on Man O’War that year, Johnny’s legacy became forever tied to the misfortunes that resulted in Big Red’s only loss. He mysteriously lost his jockey’s license the following year and was never able to regain it; he applied for a trainer’s license, though, and was granted that immediately. He stayed in the game as long as he could, training stakes winners for prominent owners, but, when he had a streak of bad luck, he gave up the racing game for something far calmer and less risky: carpentry. He died in 1976, far away from the bugle’s call and the tiny square of leather that had been his office for so long.

In the end, John Patrick Loftus was remembered less for the classics he won and the Triple Crown he helped to pioneer and more for the bad start and even worse racing luck that plagued Man O’War on that fateful day, the one black mark on Big Red’s career that haunted the jockey, not the horse, for years to come.

His name was Johnny, an Irish boy who rode horses and became one of the era’s best and brightest jockeys. He was one of the First, the right pilot for the right horse at the moment when history was made.

Many great & glorious thanks to Dorothy Ours & her book on Man O’War for giving me inspiration as well as serving as a wonderful source on Johnny Loftus & many other topics.

How I Got Here

blackstallioncoverIt all started with a book. This book, to be precise.

I suppose that’s how stories like mine often start, with a seminal event: a book, an image, something small. Something that might not mean anything to anyone else at that moment, but, to you, changes everything.

My teacher, Ms. Scott, read The Black Stallion out loud to my fifth-grade class during the fall of that school year. The clouds of time obscure the specifics, but I remember it had to be the fall because another seminal moment happened about the same time. I had our television to myself on a Saturday, a rare treat indeed, and, as I flipped channels, I saw horses congregating on a dirt oval, entering the gate, and flying like lightning down the track. Entranced, I watched what had to have been an afternoon’s worth of racing, unable to catch names, but nevertheless addicted. (Later, I figured out it was the 1987 Breeder’s Cup.)

Continue reading “How I Got Here”

Happy Birthday, American Pharoah!

americanpharoah-3On June 6, 2015, I sat in my living room, watching the broadcast for the 147th Belmont Stakes. My sister was over, my kids were playing, and my husband had just left for his evening with friends. The last thing I said to be him before he left was “You’re going to miss the race!”

Literally, ten minutes later, history had been made.

Continue reading “Happy Birthday, American Pharoah!”

Head to Head, Part Two

arrogatepegasusI awaited Saturday’s premier running of the Pegasus World Cup Invitational with the same jumpy nervousness and trepidation that I feel each time I leave the kids with the babysitter. What was going to happen? Was everyone going to behave and do their thing or would disaster in some form ensue? I paced. I worked through the possible outcomes, steeling myself for the chance that my horse could lose. I promised myself that I wouldn’t jump up and down and scare my kids again like I did during the Breeder’s Cup Classic. Frankly, my bladder can’t take that much jumping anyway.

ticketWhile I waited, I thought back to the post I published on Friday. Sure, the idea that the Arrogate v. California Chrome has parallels with Sir Barton v. Man O’War might seem tenuous, but I’ve been living with Sir Barton and his career for more than three years. I’ve been a thoroughbred racing fan for thirty years. Nothing in my time following this sport has been closer to what fans at Kenilworth Park witnessed on October 12, 1920 than we all saw at Gulfstream Park on January 28, 2017. The story of Arrogate v. Chrome played out much like the Kenilworth Gold cup did, with the older horse running at a disadvantage and the young speedster showing everyone yet again that he definitely deserves the title of Best Racehorse in the World.

Continue reading “Head to Head, Part Two”

Head to Head

It’s not a match race, really. When a race has twelve horses slated to start, each paying $1,000,000 for the privilege of running, the Pegasus World Cup Invitational at Gulfstream Park is a true horse race. Twelve starters, many possible outcomes.

Right?

chromearrogatedavehillThe coverage of the Pegasus, part of a slate of seven stakes races on Saturday, January 28th, pays lip service to the other ten starters, but really it all seems to come down to two horses: Arrogate and California Chrome. Arrogate, the four-year-old youngster, recently voted the world’s best racehorse by Longines, conqueror of the last year’s Travers Stakes and Breeder’s Cup Classic. California Chrome, six years old, on the verge of retirement and stud life, twice Horse of the Year, conquered by the upstart Arrogate both in the Classic and in the voting for world’s best racehorse.

The gate might hold twelve, but the world only sees two. Only two names matter.

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Arrogate vs. California Chrome. Speedy wonder with only one loss in his racing career versus the veteran who nearly won a Triple Crown and beat all comers in 2016 except this newly minted rival. With one voted the best in the world, barely edging out the other, the question of supremacy becomes paramount.

Where have we seen this before?

Continue reading “Head to Head”

Horse of the Year!?

This past Saturday evening, thoroughbred racing gathered together to honor the best of california-chrome-dwcthe best from the past year with the announcement of the 2016 Eclipse Awards. The National Thoroughbred Racing Association, the Daily Racing, and the National Turf Writers Association created the Eclipse Awards, named for British racer and sire Eclipse, in 1971 to honor elite horses and their human counterparts each year. California Chrome followed up his 2014 Horse of the Year win with another Horse of the Year honor for 2016, after his record of seven wins in eight starts. His only loss came behind the speedy wonder Arrogate in the Breeder’s Cup Classic.

apbelmontCalifornia Chrome’s 2014 Horse of the Year honor follows his unsuccessful attempt at winning the Triple Crown, when he came in fourth in the Belmont after a shaky start which saw him stepped on at the start by Matterhorn. Of course, the next year saw American Pharoah dominate all of the awards with his 2015 Triple Crown victory, the first in 37 years. The 12th Triple Crown winner was the unanimous Horse of the Year, the unquestioned best horse of 2015. Ending the Triple Crown drought and then following that up with victories in the Haskell Invitational and the Breeder’s Cup Classic sealed the HOY deal for Pharaoh. Our first Triple Crown winner was not quite so fortunate.

Newspapers of the time give Sir Barton three-year-old champion honors, though none of SBConfirmationthese awards were officially recognized until 1936. Despite winning the Triple Crown (as we know it now) and a number of other victories, Sir Barton’s record of 13-8-3-2 was not quite as stellar as another three-year-old, Purchase, who had a record of 11-9-2-0 for 1919. Thus, for some, the Triple Crown winner’s supremacy wasn’t quite total. The doubt came from July’s Dwyer Stakes, where Purchase beat a sore Sir Barton, who was carrying nine more pounds and turned a shoe during the race. Despite winning four races in thirty-two days and setting a precedent that is racing’s central focus for the first half of each year, Sir Barton was not good enough for some in his own time to be unanimously the best of his class.

Years later, of course, Sir Barton was awarded both his Triple Crown trophy and Horse of the Year honors. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in its initial class in 1957 and then into the Canadian Horse Racing Hall of Fame in 1976. It speaks to the difference between Sir Barton’s time and ours that America’s first Triple Crown winner didn’t quite dominate the minds of racing back then as he might have today.

New Year, New Life

When American Pharoah crossed the finish line at Belmont Park on June 6, 2015, the new King of the Track, the 12th Triple Crown winner, it was a given that breeders would be seeking the chance to catch their own bit of history by pairing their mares with the horse that broke the thirty-seven-year drought. Sure enough, in early 2016, American Pharoah covered a number of mares and, this week, the first of his foals made his appearance.

This little guy, as yet unnamed, is but a harbinger of the potential to come, the promise of another American Pharoah that, given the right time and connections, may bring us more of the excitement his sire showered us with.

For Sir Barton, his time at stud was more average than anything else; he produced a decent number of stakes winners, but none duplicated his success. Easter Stockings won the 1928 Kentucky Oaks, among her many career wins, and stands as probably his most successful progeny. Sure, he had others, but, compared to the pedigree legacies of his rival Man O’War, his stud career was deemed a failure. Though he may not have a produced another Triple Crown winner, he was a good enough sire that the word ‘failure’ belies the truth of his time. His final years were spent with the Remount Service, where he served his country by siring more horses for the military.

I look forward to the successes of this new little guy and all of American Pharoah’s foals to come. I hope they bring us as much joy as their sire did for his shining year on the Triple Crown trail.

Making and Breaking Reputations

On October 12, 1920, about 3.37 pm, two horses stood at the barrier on Kenilworth Park’s dirt oval. The largest crowd ever to grace the stands watched as the two took to the track, one clad in Ross orange and black and the other in the yellow and black of Samuel Riddle, each known as the best of his class. As they lined up by the starter, one towering over the other, their riders took their positions, gripping the leather reins and waiting for this particular job to begin.

ticketThe match race itself had come together rather quickly, a response to the drumbeat of desire that threatened to drown out everything else in thoroughbred racing that fall. Man O’War had conquered all comers to that point, save for a slight blip on the map named Upset, but his owner’s caution had left one question still to be answered: how would Big Red fare amongst older horses? When Willis Sharpe Kilmer dropped his Exterminator out of the mix, Sir Barton became the symbol of the best that the older class had to offer: record setter under heavy weights, Triple Crown winner, the star of the Ross Stable. For the champion, though, the one who had done what Man O’War hadn’t, 1920 had been a hard campaign, with eight starts, three in August alone, after thirteen in 1919. Sure, Man O’War had had ten starts in 1920, but he didn’t have the shelly hooves that plagued Sir Barton. The track at Kenilworth was hard and fast, thanks to Abe Orpen’s hope for a speed duel. For Sir Barton, the solid surface and the residual soreness of a long campaign brought on lingering questions about soundness, but no one in the Ross camp was going to give their hand away. Kenilworth, though, had taken on a dour air as a result. As J.K.M. Ross laments in Boots and Saddles, this was “a battleground for greatness and a breeding ground for disappointment and distortion” (207).

goldcup2With his obvious advantages in height and muscle, it was clear how tremendous Man O’War was next to Sir Barton. While the Triple Crown winner was not the largest horse, he clearly showed why he had been so good on the track versus so many of the era’s best horses. Standing there at the barrier, though, Sir Barton looked like a common plater next to Man O’War. The race was nearly a foregone conclusion, but Ross’s sense of sportsmanship wouldn’t allow him to withdraw from the contest. In the end, Man O’War’s conquering of his competition only intensified the ascendency of his star. For Sir Barton, though, it might have been the contributing factor to his slow fade into near obscurity.

manowardrinksfromcupNinety-six years ago today, the Kenilworth Gold Cup was the match race that turned out to be no match at all. For Man O’War, the race resulted drinking champagne from the race’s gold trophy and retiring to stud to make an indelible and lasting mark on the pedigree of all thoroughbreds racing today. For Sir Barton, it was the end. He ran two more times, but his soundness and heart weren’t up to the task. He went quietly to stud and then, because of death and circumstance, to the Wild West, resting for all time in rural Wyoming.

But he left his mark loudly even if he went off quietly into the night. It’s in the walls of noise at Churchill Downs and Pimlico and Belmont in the spring. It’s in the vaunted places of horses like Citation, Secretariat, Affirmed, and now American Pharoah in the pantheon of thoroughbred racing. He may not have been a behemoth on the track, but his achievement on those spring days in 1919 has become the yardstick by which we measure all horses to this day.

Not even Big Red wears his crown.

Greatness Knows No Weight

sbmarylandhandicapIn the Triple Crown races, colts and geldings carry 126 pounds and fillies carry 121 pounds. The idea is that a male horse holds a physical advantage over fillies (though I know fillies and mares throughout history that might challenge that idea) so the difference in weights gives each horse an equal chance at the same goal. So goes the wisdom behind assigning weights in a handicap: horses with good records and more talent receive higher weights than others who may not have shown such. With that in mind, let’s look at Sir Barton’s start in the 1919 Maryland Handicap.

By early October, racing in Maryland had shifted from Havre de Grace to Laurel for its fall meet. The question of who owned the three-year-old crown still lingered in the air as Purchase had wowed in his other starts in 1919 while Sir Barton had won those spring classics, but had had a series of mixed performance since then. The scuttlebutt had the two meeting at some point that autumn to decide the thing outright, but, in the meantime, Ross and company shifted their focus to Laurel’s slate of handicaps, including the Maryland Handicap.

Though the race had six starters, unlike his previous start in the Havre de Grace Handicap, Sir Barton’s competition was not nearly as stellar. No Cudgel, no Exterminator, and no Purchase; instead, the other starters were all colts that he gave anywhere from fifteen to twenty-seven pounds to, enough weight that these lightweights had a fighting chance, in theory.

Truly, they had none. Rather than engage in a speed battle on the front end, jockey Johnny Loftus hung at the back of the pack, waiting for the front-runners to burn themselves out before moving for the lead. As the field went around the last turn, Thunderclap surged wide, taking Sir Barton with him. The Triple Crown winner recovered and started picking off horses one-by-one until he only had Mad Hatter in front of him in the stretch. By the time the field hit the wire, Sir Barton had pulled ahead of Mad Hatter by two lengths, finishing in a time just two-fifths off the record for the mile and a quarter.

The race was called one of Sir Barton’s best performances to date, an exciting end to another rich race for the Ross Stable. Finally, the champion earned a break and didn’t start again until November.