I have never been much of a sports fan, nor have I ever been a gambler. However, I have always been in love with horses! I dreamed of having one as a child and would often visit the ranch around the corner. They would let my friends and I wander around and pet the beautiful beasts anytime we wanted. I always checked out a horse breed book from the library and would take it with me trying to identify various breeds (they all looked the same to me!). We would try to come up with names for them all but we were never very original. The black one was Blackie, the brown one was Brownie, the short one was Shortie – then we got to another black one and were stumped. But we were just kids.

When I was about 12, my friend Margaret and I would save up our babysitting money and go horseback riding every other week. Back then they let you take out the horses without a guide so we could go all over the place and play a lot of games. Sometimes we would travel back in time and found ourselves chasing (or being chased by) Indians in the Wild West – just like we’d seen in old movies. Sometimes we were competing in a rodeo. More often than not, we were jockeys racing for the finish line. I loved to feel the wind in my hair and the horse’s mane whipping my face.

Years later, my boyfriend wanted to do something special for me on my birthday. I loved watching horseracing on TV so he took me to Bay Meadows to watch the races live! The day was cloudy and cool, but that didn’t matter to us. Oh! How I loved to watch the ponies run! As I said, I was not much of a gambler. So we’d watch the horses go round the paddock and check their names on the list. Then we’d each select our favorite one and run to the stands to see who’s horse won. Neither one of us ever did pick a winner nor did we keep track of whose horse more frequently beat out the other. We just had a lot of fun.

A friend had given me two bucks and told me to pick a horse for her. So about half way through the day, we bet her money. I felt it was only right to risk my own money, too, so I bought another ticket for myself. That was the most nerve wracking race of the day. I felt like the clouds were closing in on us. I was shaking the whole time and felt so bad when the chosen horse lost. I’d lost my friend’s money! I consoled myself with the knowledge that I’d lost my own as well. We went back to simply selecting our favorites and watching the races. Not only was it more fun, it was free!

Towards the end of the day, one particular horse caught my eye. He was a huge, dappled gray – light gray body with a dark gray mane and tail. He was gorgeous! I have always been one to back the underdog, support the ugliest creature, and cheer for the least likely to win. Since grays are not often seen in thoroughbred racing, they were my automatic favorites. This particular gray was magnificent and, of course, the one I selected to cheer for. His name was Snowbank and I’ll never forget him. I remember the day like it was yesterday; the jockeys mounting; the horses making their way to the track; one man hollered “Come on Snowy, take me to the bank!” and everyone laughed. They loaded into the starting gate and after a silent moment, they were off! We were yelling and cheering right along with the crowd as the horses rounded the corner and entered the backstretch. We were standing next to the rail so we could not see a thing back there. We waited for them to come around the turn and started yelling our hearts out. The horses were tightly packed as they thundered past us. It was a close race. We it was over, I was confused. I turned to my boyfriend and asked, “Where’s Snowbank?”

He was nowhere to be seen. An announcement was made that there would be a short delay before the next race but we waited by the rail to see what was happening. I asked an official near a gate but since I was not an owner or trainer he could not tell me anything. The clouds had moved in again and the day had gotten very cold. We moved into one of the lounges to get something warm to drink. That’s when we confirmed my worst fears. There were video monitors all around the room so that people could watch the races in comfort. The screen showed a crowd on the track along with a couple of big white vans with red crosses on them. A screen had been set up, the white fabric kind that you see in doctor’s offices in old movies, and people were walking around and behind it. Snowbank’s jockey was sitting on the bumper of one of the trucks. Then they showed a replay of the race. They slowed it down as the horses moved into that last turn. No one was near Snowy when it happened. One moment he was racing at breakneck speed and the next he was tumbling to the ground. His off-fore leg broke in mid stride sending both horse and jockey face down into the dirt. I watched the replay two or three times before I turned away from the monitor. Although it was not possible, I swore that I could hear the bone snap. Suddenly, the sparkle had gone out of the day. The wind picked up and it started to sprinkle a bit. I didn’t want to be there anymore. It was a long, quite ride home.

I occasionally watch the big races when they are shown on TV. I still liked to watch the ponies run. But each time, I can’t help but think about that magnificent gray beast giving his all – leaving it all on the track. I haven’t been back to a race track since cold day 25 years ago. I just don’t have the desire.


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