Part
2: 1973 The Triple Crown
by Gayle Farmer
Secretariat walked
out onto the track that day in all his glorious majesty, his bright
chestnut coat glistening in the sun. The colt was racing fit, but he
was so perfectly conformed, and so beautifully put together that he
looked far more mature than the average three-year-old. He was perfection.
The crowd roared
as he minced down the track. He shook his head several times before
the outrider snapped the shank onto his bit. Secretariat loved his fans
and played to the audience every time he stepped onto the track. Today
was no exception. This was a special day. It was The Run For The Roses,
first leg in Thoroughbred racing's Triple Crown.
He had a very
high opinion of himself and it showed. Secretariat looked unbeatable
because he was unbeatable; he oozed self-confidence. The bright red
colt snaked his head irritably, looking for more rein, and gave a light
buck.
His jockey, Ron
Turcotte, looked at the outrider and nodded hello. He was feeling good
today, confident. His colt was ready, alright, way more than ready.
Red was going to eat them alive.
Turcotte looked
up into the boxes and raised his whip to his cap, saluting Penny Chenery
Tweedy, the proud owner of The Meadow Stud. A tense but smiling Lucien
Laurin stood by her side. He'd trained the phenomenal two-year old to
Horse of the Year status in 1972, something only two other horses of
that age had done in the history of racing. But today was the big one.
The first of three. The elusive Triple Crown! This was what it was all
about!
Secretariat was
still the odds-on favorite that day, going at 3 to 2. There was a lot
of talk at the back gate about the humiliating defeat he'd recently
suffered in the Wood Memorial at the hands of Angle Light, who won the
race, and Sham, his nemesis. He had placed third in that race, and they
were running against him today. Could it happen again?
Secretariat didn't
know about the back gate talk. Defeat was the last thing on his mind.
He was chomping at the bit. As they made the turn back to the starting
gate, Secretariat saw Sham ahead of him. The huge colt lunged forward,
anxious to close even that small, meaningless distance.
The roar of the
crowd, which had been steady and sustained since he came onto the track,
increased in volume.
They entered the
starting gate, poised, waiting, with every muscle ready. The doors crashed
open and tons of horseflesh surged onto the track, legs pounding, getting
into position. Secretariat broke from the back of the pack, but that
was no accident. He preferred it that way. He slid into his gigantic,
ground-covering stride and began passing horses at the first turn. Secretariat
lengthened even more, seeing the remaining horse in front of him. Sham!
The huge stallion stretched out even more, closing the distance so quickly
he was just a blur.
Secretariat was
still a blur as he caught Sham at the top of the stretch, matching him
stride for stride. Then lowering his great head, he started pulling
away. First by a neck, then by half a length, then a full length.
And still he came on, winning going away by 2-1/2 lengths, in a record-setting
time of 1:59-2/5, for the 1-1/4 mile race.
It would prove to be the only Derby ever run in under two minutes.
Secretariat stood
in the Winner's Circle as they draped the blanket of roses across his
withers. He posed for the photographers, hamming it up, the ultimate
showman playing to his audience.
...
The Preakness
was next on the menu. The six-horse field was small, but select. Sham
again.
It was the shortest
of the Triple Crown races, at 1-3/16. The crowd cheered wildly as they
saw the favorite step out onto the track. They held their breath as
they saw the power of his stride and they thought, could he, would he?
They were ready to see history be made.
Secretariat stood
out from the pack like a show horse among a group of mustangs; his deep
red coat glowed in the sunlight, muscular neck arched. He swung his
great head around as he spotted his nemesis, and whinnied shrilly in
challenge. Sham! Again!
The roar of the
crowd escalated as the six-horse field entered the starting gate. The
jockey's could feel the huge muscles coiled like springs; bunched, ready.
Then, they're off!
Secretariat took
off almost at once. Going right to the front of the pack, he flew by
the field, strides lengthening; only one horse in front of him now.
Sham! He lowered his head more and passed Sham without a moments hesitation,
going away.
As the crowd saw the widening gap between Secretariat and Sham, they
went ballistic. He was pulling away, more, more. They headed for the
home stretch, and the distance widened even more. Secretariat whizzed
under the wire, winning by 2-1/2 lengths over Sham in another record-breaking
time of 1:53-2/5!
The pandemonium
in the stands was deafening as Secretariat cantered back to the winner's
circle. One question was on everyone's lips. Could he do it? Were we
about to see him become the first Triple Crown winner in twenty-five
years?
...
The Belmont is
run at 1-1/2 miles! The Belmont is the spoiler, a heartbreaker. Many
horses win the Derby and the Preakness, only to fail over the long distance.
Would that happen again, today?
When Secretariat
came out onto the track that afternoon, the thunderous applause was
all for him, and he knew it. He pranced down the track beside his lead
pony, shaking his head, bursting with pent-up energy. They picked up
the canter, stretching out, warming up muscles that he would soon put
to the supreme test.
The five-horse
field quickly entered the starting gate, anxious to be off. Secretariat
had drawn the inside position. That could be good; or not. It's the
shortest way around, but if you get boxed in, you could be in big trouble.
It depended on the break.
The gates crashed
open, and they surged onto the track as one. Secretariat and Sham immediately
went to the front. Neck and neck, they began to pull away from the field.
They were racing as though this was a sprint race, ticking off quarter-mile
fractions in incredible times that were record-breaking in themselves.
Would they have anything left at the end? The crowd was slowly going
insane.
Sham would race
his heart out that day, injuring himself in the process and bringing
his racing career to an end. He would finish last; both his body and
his spirit broken.
The speed seemed
to energize Secretariat and as he started to pull away from the field,
he went even faster. People watched the timer and the horse simultaneously,
unable to believe what they were seeing. He was no longer racing other
horses. He wasn't even racing the clock. Now he was racing himself.
His fractions increased as he galloped alone. Secretariat was running
his own race, and he was going faster and faster as the gap between
him and the field widened. He had another record to break; his personal
best.
Ron Tercotte just
sat there, chilly, letting the colt run. He was always a quiet rider,
keeping his physical movements to a minimum. But today, he was absolutely
motionless. He was just the passenger.
The only move
he did make was a slight turn of his head as he read numbers on the
infield teletimer. He blinked once, checked again and smiled slightly.
As they rounded
the sweeping Belmont far turn, the longest of any track in North America,
he pulled ahead by twenty lengths. By the mid-stretch, he was ahead
by twenty-eight lengths and still he was pulling away; faster, ever
faster. As he swept under the wire, his lead over the second place horse
was thirty-one lengths. Stunning! Unbelievable!
Secretariat set
another record that day, winning in the time of 2:24 flat. The newest
Triple Crown winner had set track and race records in all three races.
A feat that has not been matched to date.
...
Part
1: Toss of a Coin
Part 2: The Triple Crown
Part 3: The Final Chapter
