Requiem for a winner

[my miss storm cat]

He wasn't a big star... he wasn't a star at all.

He ran though, he won a few and showed that sparkle and when he was retired - for some reason - his people saw fit to bring him back to the races.

It's easy to judge and point fingers and ask why...

Maybe he missed it. Maybe he was a dud at stud or maybe he wasn't finished yet.

Who knows.

Proud Cardenal won the 3rd race at Fairplex the other day.

In a sickeningly cruel twist of fate this old warrior (he was 11) died on his way to the winner's circle.

Racing can be the most beautiful spectacle... living, breathing art in progress.

It can twist and break and spit out your heart and doom you to a Dante's Inferno-like repetition of heartbreak and distress.

It can inspire you and make the quiet vocal, make the hard-hearted light again, make children of us all.

Like the most beautiful forms of art it can move you in ways that words cannot justify.

This though... this is the darkness... this unfair ending for an unlikely hero in front of few who knew and loved him and thousands of strangers so yeah... I choose to remember this guy becasue he is a reminder of the extremes and parallels of this cosa nostra... this thing of ours. I'm sorry for the holes in the hearts of those who knew, worked with, owned and loved him and for those who had to witness that joyful moment turn to one of sorrow.

We're all fragile. None of us deserve to be forgotten.

I won't forget him.