A wise person once said: “There’s nothing like watching a horse that you own come around the final turn with a shot to win.”
Well, perhaps there is one thing.
Imagine if your kid is a baseball or softball player and he or she hits a deep blast into the outfield but it doesn’t go over the fence. You watch him or her sprint toward first base and see the coach waving his arm in windmill fashion, jumping up and down, pointing to second base, yelling “GO, GO, GO!” You check the outfielders running after the ball and although it went over their head you know someone is going to chase it down and make a play. Meanwhile you cut back to your kid running the bases and you notice that he/she has also realized what’s going on in the outfield and has boldly decided to round second base and keep going. “GO!” your lungs muster. Your heart starts to pound. Time slows down. You stand at attention. Since you’re in the bleachers on the third base line you can see the focus and intensity on your kid’s face as he or she zeroes in on third base, coming directly toward you with all their might. As fate would have it, sure enough, that outfielder ran the ball down and is about to rifle it back toward the infield. But at that instant you catch the third-base coach — a man of wisdom and experience; someone you trust; someone you’ve known for years; someone you also giggle at as a middle-aged man wearing the full team uniform in a kid’s game — and you see him thrust his right arm toward home plate. IS HE KIDDING?!?! The ball is about to get thrown back into play. But your kid doesn’t care where the ball is. He or she only knows one thing, what they’ve been trained over and over and over again — react to the third-base coach. Head down. Arms pumping. Cleats cleating. Fans gasping. They round third. Every eye is on the ball flying through the air toward the infield. Except yours. You’re watching your kid and emotions are boiling over. You’re proud and amazed and wrapped up in the moment and want your son or daughter to get everything they ever wanted in this world. Right now that’s to score. But the ball is on its way, hurling through the air faster than your kid can run. But don’t tell him (or her) that. The race is on. Time. Simply. Stops. And suddenly, your baby leaves his (or her) feet to slide into home plate and just barely crosses a split second before the ball reaches the catcher’s mitt. The umpire belts out “SAAAFE!” from his crouched position right on top of the action. HOME RUN. He did it. She did it. YOU did it. Of course you did it. What a hit. What a run. Breathe. You beam with pride and think back to all the days of playing catch in the yard and all the nights at the batting cage. The players and coaches sprint toward home plate to celebrate. A tear runs down your cheek (for you, for them, for “us”). And you watch them celebrate together knowing you’ll have your time together later. For now you gaze in amazement and awe and pride. You finally realize that every minute bringing you to this point was worth it.
Phew! Once again, breathe.
Ok, that’s essentially what it’s like watching your horse run around the track. Sort of, anyway. You over-react to every second as time slows to a crawl. If you’re fortunate enough to be in striking distance coming down the homestretch, your heart starts to pound. “GO!” your lungs muster. You put all your faith in the jockey riding the horse to make the right move, weaving through traffic to find a path to victory. You’re completely locked in as they approach the finish line. And they win! They win! They win! What a race! Unbelievable. Your heart is pounding and the crowd is roaring all around you. The people celebrate, but you just wipe the tear off your cheek knowing you’ll have your time together later.
Yes, it’s kind of like that.
I always loved horseracing and like many fans I started watching because my dad enjoyed it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a handicapper. Don’t ask me to “pick a horse”. We’ll both lose our lunch money. However, during the spring of 2020 as most sports were shutting down due to the pandemic, horse racing found a way to keep operating. No fans at the track and there were certainly some bumps in the road as jockeys and trainers and track employees tested positive for COVID. But the races went on. Somehow. Amazingly.
I recall seeing an ad online about being able to invest in horses via fractional ownership. $500 or $300 or even as low as $100 per share. I was curious and did my due diligence. After feeling confident enough, I chose to pull the trigger and buy my first share. It was a beautiful 2 year old colt named Mo Mischief, a son of Into Mischief who was the leading stallion in the country producing more winners than any other horse. The company that offers these fractional ownership shares is called MyRacehorse and they do a great job keeping owners up to date with all the everyday training activity in between races. That’s really where the ownership happens. Every day your horse is training in some way, and usually once a week (if healthy) it will be breezing on the track in a training run. They typically don’t race more than one a month, and as I’ve learned the hard way, many of them never make it to the races at all.
Horses are exceptionally powerful animals, yet they’re also amazingly fragile. Injuries to tiny little bones in their feet or ankles or knees can knock them out of training for months. Some horses never develop the temperament to be ridden by a jockey or never develop the instinct to race. Rather than force an animal to train and risk injury, after a while they will just retire the horse and hope he or she can live a good life on the farm, in the rodeo, or in some other career outside racing.
It didn’t take long before I was hooked. Shocker. Addictive personality strikes again. But this time the lucky horseshoe was on my side. One of the horses I purchased shares in — a 3 year old colt named Authentic — was showing a lot of early success at the races. In fact, he earned a trip to the Kentucky Derby and sure enough that hunk of equine goodness won the Kentucky Derby in upset fashion! A month later he won the Breeders Cup which is considered the “world championship of horse racing”. A couple days later the majority owners chose to retire him and protect their investment as Authentic was now worth millions and millions of dollars as a potential stallion. That was an early education for me in the horse racing game. Sometimes your favorite toy is taken away from you, but it’s for the best interest of the horse and the owners’ investment. At that level, there’s A LOT of money on the line. Since that time Authentic has gone on to breed with hundreds of mares and his first crop of foals are on the ground and prancing. I hope to see some really fast ones some day with the same spirit and kick and instincts that his old man had. Some day.
Feel free to visit my little slide deck (PDF) with info on all my horses. I have shares in more than 30 horses across the U.S. now. Many have raced and many are still in training. Some never made it at all despite all the best hopes and analysis of pedigree, etc. You just never know. But one thing I do know is that there will be another horse in another race… maybe a big million-dollar race or maybe a first-time starter race against other young horses… and they will get off to a good start… and maybe they will push to the lead as they enter the backstretch… and time will begin to slow down as I rise to attention… heart pounding… eyes wide… and the excitement of watching that horse turn for home with a chance to win will keep me coming back for more.