The idea for this eulogy, of a sort, has been sitting in my head since last Saturday; until now, I have found neither words nor sentiment to write it down. Now, though, it is time to pay tribute to a beautiful racehorse and to ponder that age-old question, "What could have been?"
Though triumph is sweet, its bitter twin, tragedy, is never far behind, like a shadow clinging to light. Bob Baffert may have won two Breeders' Cup races last Saturday, but not before tragedy reared its ugly head, taking the life of a filly that could be special.
We see this so often in horse racing, and yet it always hits us just as hard as the last. There are always shining stars lost too soon to the world beyond our knowledge. A delicate young horse, on legs seemingly too spindly to support all that muscle on top, runs at speeds many animals can only dream of. Nature has designed those legs to carry weight, but, like any injury, there are times when fate steps into play, and not for the better.
Secret Compass had two wins in five starts going into the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies, including a narrow victory in the Grade 1 Chandelier Stakes over She's a Tiger, who would later be disqualified from her first place finish in the Breeders' Cup. She was bred to be spectacular - by the speedy Discreet Cat, who was sometimes described as "freaky," and out of a mare by Maria's Mon, who sired not one, but two, Kentucky Derby winners. On TVG's The Works, she received unanimous A+ ratings from the panel in her last workout before the big event.
It seemed as if Secret Compass had a real shot to win, and many selected her as their champion.
She's a Tiger set the early pace in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies. Not far behind, after a couple others, was Secret Compass, preparing to pounce on the far turn. Her backers, whose eyes were glued to her, watched as she steadily made up inches down the backstretch. They hit the far turn and the filly began to make a sharp move towards the inside. She would collar the leaders soon -
It was almost like a punch in the gut. Within instants, the filly stumbled and fell to her knees, her body flipping with the impact, struggling to bring herself upright. The whole racing world drew in sharp breath. Some cursed; some cried. Others stared blankly, unwilling to believe what they had just witnessed.
Breakdowns, like other sudden, violent events, have a way of cementing themselves into the memory of every witness. This injury was certainly no exception.
Prayers and pleas rang through the air in the minutes between the accident and the bad news. At the wire, Ria Antonia had been declared the winner after She's a Tiger was disqualified for stretch interference. Her connections whooped and hollered joyfully, but my mind - as well as many others' - was only for the fallen filly being attended to on the far turn.
A lateral condylar fracture, with dislocation, ripped Secret Compass from us. She lost the blood supply in that leg, staggering near her injured jockey, and was euthanized before she could bring herself further pain.
John Velazquez missed the chance to ride several horses that day, including Wise Dan, who successfully defended his title in the Breeders' Cup Mile. In an instant, the entire mood of the day took a turn.
Why? Her name is added to the list of those fillies we lost so soon - Landaluce, Go for Wand, Ruffian - that could have gone on to do even greater things. As with any premature loss, "What could have been?" hangs heavy in the air, sticking in the throats of the grieving and prompting questions and debates for decades to come. The loss of something so young, so promising - a child, if you will - will break any heart that stops and ponders this seemingly unfair occurrence.
The game went on. Her trainer, Bob Baffert, won two Breeders' Cup races that day, including the Breeders' Cup Juvenile with New Year's Day. Sorrow filled his eyes and choked his voice at the mention of his deceased filly; even in triumph, tragedy has a way of maintaining a stranglehold. As for me, my heart felt a little heavier for the rest of the day. With each time the horses left the gate, I would wish and pray that all of them crossed the wire unscathed.
That's what we all want, isn't it? "May they all come home safe."
Some people have a way of portraying this sport as a selfish, cruel way to go about things, forcing horses to run against their will and putting their riders in harm's way. In the end, though, every pastime has its flaws, its fears, and its tragedies. Each time a horse goes down on the track, a human in the barn sheds more than a few tears. They are not just commodities or athletes to the people who live and work with them every day; these horses become family, friend, and idol alike.
So as Secret Compass is a member of a family, it is fitting to give her tribute, as we would for any of our family members. It has been observed that the youngest stars to die often do so violently; they also shed the brightest light for the longest time. Through her short time here, Secret Compass showed brilliance. Now she runs in some other realm, unencumbered by pain. Those who loved her will not forget her; the history books will still contain her name. But as we humans are so connected to the here and now, the earthly solidity of things, we must bid her a proper farewell.
Goodbye, Secret Compass.
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