Captivated and horrified

I've never understood the passive fascination I have with horse racing. It's a style of fascination I share with many other people, I know. For the most part, I don't care much about it until the Derby comes around. If the Derby winner intrigues me, I remain almost riveted for the ensuing two weeks and, if necessary, two more. I already related the story of slipping out to watch the Belmont Stakes at my buddy Greg's wedding reception.

Smarty Jones was a fine horse, and I remember he took the lead with about a half mile to go - at which point I said "It's over" as in "He won't win." It was a different race than the previous two races I saw, and everyone in the bar was completely devastated, myself included. There's an allure to a Triple Crown winner. I can't explain it.

That's why what happened today to Barbaro is so devastating. For those that did not watch or are not a sporting fan, Barbaro took a bad step shortly out of the gate and fractured his ankle in two places, putting his life in danger. It was disgusting to see the replay with his ankle flailing over the place while he continued to try to run. Debbie started to cry, in fact.