Walking through a vocal Saratoga crowd following Rachel Alexandra's narrow defeat in the Personal Ensign this summer, her trainer Steve Asmussen, emotions clearly running high, made a statement that stuck out.
"I'm very disappointed that she lost, but I am always happy with Rachel," he said. "It hurts to lose and you're disappointed for it, but if that's the case, just think about how happy she's made you and all the things she has done for us."
The announcement on Tuesday that the reigning Horse of the Year has been retired hurt to hear; this is a filly who will be missed. It was disappointing she never re-captured her brilliant form of last season. It's a shame that, due to a combination of circumstances, she never squared off with the unbeaten Zenyatta.
But Rachel Alexandra doesn't owe me - or anyone else - anything.
So many times, the discussion of a great horse’s retirement reads like an obituary, sadly bidding farewell to favorites. But in this case, it's a cause for reflection and celebration of a job well done.
Rachel called the Spa City her home each of the last two summers. She delivered a performance for the ages in last year's Woodward, and showed the heart of a champion in defeat in the Personal Ensign, the final start of her career. She raced, trained, slept and ate here for months. She drew thousands of people, most of them sporting Rachel caps and buttons, to the track. As she calls it a career, she leaves countless race fans in this historic town with fond memories. Mine is just one of the 'Rachel stories' that dozens of others could tell.
I became enamored with thoroughbred racing at a young age and voraciously read everything, fact or fiction, that was available on the sport. In particular, the stories that stuck out were those of great fillies - Jane Schwartz's heartrending biography of
Ruffian, Joanna Campbell's fictional
Thoroughbred series. There's a well-worn copy of
The Black Stallion's Filly on my bookshelf; every year, when the Kentucky Derby rolls around, I religiously pull it out and re-read it, wondering if
this might be the year that a truly special filly bursts onto the scene.
When Rachel romped home by 20 lengths in the Kentucky Oaks - with Calvin Borel sitting still as a statue aboard her - it felt like I stuck my finger in an electric socket. There were goosebumps covering my arms. It was senior week at St. John Fisher College and I was standing in my dorm room watching the race - surprised to find myself out of the chair and standing. The second she crossed the wire, there was an unspoken thought in the back of my mind:
maybe she's the one. This thought grew stronger after her win in the Preakness Stakes.
I studied journalism in college with the goal of becoming a turf writer, wanting to become involved with and tell stories about this world I'd always been in love with. I was hired to work for The Saratogian and Pink Sheet in the same week that Rachel Alexandra arrived at Saratoga in summer 2009, riding a seven-race win streak and not done yet. With one of the top racehorses in the country spending two consecutive summers here, it's no surprise that a good amount of time was dedicated to chronicling her every move.
The stories have all been written about the time she's spent here - her workouts, her races, the times, the history, the competition. Between those lines, she has given me countless memories.
Cups of coffee and sunrises at the Oklahoma rail, keeping an eye out for that distinctive white blaze. Watching her kick up her heels in a happy bounce as she set off for her workouts, a horse clearly loving her job. The rapid-fire click of camera shutters keeping time with her hoofbeats as she motored by - 'whoosh, free and easy,' I scribbled on my notepad the first time I watched her breeze. Arriving at her barn in the predawn darkness and following her across the street to the main track for her crucial works. Conversations about her, about racing in general, about the weather, about life as we stood around watching her cool out under the trees. The people I met who loved her, all with their own stories to tell. Standing out on the tarmac watching her plane appear, silver in the morning light, as she arrived in Albany this June. Watching her calmly walk past hordes of spectators with that lovely, quiet confidence.
The way she stared straight ahead like a solider, all focus, marching into the paddock before the Woodward. Watching little girls, so much like I had been, hoisted up on shoulders for a better look. The way her head disappeared in the crowd and re-appeared in a shaft of sunlight as we walked down the horse path to the track behind her.
Twice, nearly a year to the day apart, I stood with my feet in the dirt of the historic Saratoga track and waited for her to jog back after a race. The first time, after the Woodward, was pandemonium. The grandstand was rocking with a standing ovation that lasted what felt like forever, people on the track brushing away happy tears, people applauding and raising fists in triumph, veteran horsemen and writers shaking their heads in amazement. I felt dizzy. The second time, waiting for her after the Personal Ensign, I expected the emotion to be more subdued. But up near the clubhouse turn came the applause. I turned, expecting to see Persistently coming back. But there was Rachel, the crowd saluting her every step of the way. "Nothing to be ashamed of, you gave it a great effort," yelled the man standing behind the rail closest to me. "You're still my girl. You're still my baby girl."
Win or lose, Saratoga loved her.
It's tough to know that was her last start. It's tough to close the book on her career and to think there won't be any more 'Rachel Mondays' standing around with everyone in the mist waiting for her or eager anticipation of her next start. There are mixed emotions as you say goodbye to the career of a horse like this. But in reflecting, the first emotion that comes to mind is gratitude.
Gratitude that she retires healthy and sound. Gratitude that she has a 'forever home' with this owner, which many racehorses don't. Gratitude that owner Jess Jackson kept her around to run as a 4-year-old, a service to a sport that often loses its stars all too soon. Gratitude to veteran trainer Hal Wiggins who shaped her early career, culminating in that Oaks victory. Gratitude to Asmussen and his staff, including assistant Scott Blasi, not only for their work with her but for putting up with endless inquiries and handling the attention and requests from fans with as much grace as could have been expected. Gratitude to some of the unsung heroes behind the story - Asmussen's barn staff, including groom Juan Gonzalez; Dom Terry and Shaun Bridgmohan, who partnered her in workouts; security guard Amy Kearns. If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to create a successful racehorse.
And most of all, gratitude that fate allowed me to begin my professional career by covering this kind of horse. Gratitude that I got to spend time around a filly who took me back to my childhood and made every dream of a horse-crazy little girl come true - getting to base at least part of my work, for two summers, around a truly great filly.
If fate was responsible, then so was Rachel - for showing the same kind of heart in both victory and defeat, simply for being who she is. There are dozens of people who will consider themselves forever blessed for having been around her. I'm one of them.
Thank you for the memories, Rachel.
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