Cornucopian

You hate to see it.

They are our favorite equine athletes.

They give us everything they have, every afternoon, asking for nothing more than a fair chance and carrot or mint after. They don't know politics. They don't know social media. They don't know agendas.

They simply run.

That's why we owe them better.

Yesterday at Del Mar, we were reminded how fragile this game and life, really is.

Cornucopian.

I had the pleasure of watching him train in Kentucky. He was always willing. Always professional. The kind of horse that made you stop and watch because there was something different about him. He possessed rare speed—freakish speed.

Then, approaching the quarter pole yesterday, something went terribly wrong.

The way he was pulled up, my eyes immediately went to the fetlock. I've been there before with one or two of my own horses. You never want to see it because you know what it often means.

It's one of the cruel realities of Thoroughbred racing.

These magnificent athletes carry tremendous power on incredibly tiny legs. At full stride, the forces traveling through their limbs are almost unimaginable, 200 pounds per square inch.

You spend every day trying to prevent tragedy. Veterinarians, trainers, exercise riders, grooms—everyone watches them constantly.

But horses can't talk.

They can't tell you they're uncomfortable.

Sometimes the only warning they give is a subtle change in their body language, and sometimes there is no warning at all.

That's what makes days like yesterday so heartbreaking.

My heart goes out to Bob Baffert, the ownership group, and every person who cared for Cornucopian. These moments stay with you. Anyone who has loved and cared for a racehorse knows they never completely leave you.

Del Mar later released a statement saying the attending veterinarian reported Cornucopian was "comfortable."

I sincerely hope that's true.

Where is the racing media? they'd rather all report the 6 bagger by Irad at the Spa,this they won't touch, but still people have a right to know, especially with some sort of hope.

Wherever Cornucopian is today, I hope he is resting comfortably.

He was a remarkable talent.

More importantly...

He was one of our favorite equine athletes, aren't they all?