No Crying in Racing

There Is No Crying in Racing.

I am so glad to see it.

I really am.

I think we are turning the corner.

The 10th Wonder of the World—social media—has finally evolved into a counseling service for horse owners who just lost a race.

Now, this is not to be mistaken for counseling war heroes or veterans dealing with TBI or PTS.

No.

This is much more important.

This is horse owners.

The victims of a cruel game that apparently can injure even the most vulnerable among us and turn already soft spines into complete mush.

I never, ever thought I would see the day.

Social media is filled with lunatics and egomaniacs who know the identity of the Unknown Soldier, who shot JFK, who really killed Marilyn Monroe and what happened to Amelia Earhart.

Yet somehow these same people can find compassion for a “brother” who just finished 6th, not 2nd with a brutal head bob, not a head back third, while closing like a banshee, not 4th with a brutal start, and checked from the time she was in the paddock. 6th, fucking 6th.

Crying because a horse that has earned a mere $1,029,000, finished fucking 6th.

A million-fucking-dollar earner.

There is nothing sadder than seeing a grown man take to social media and utter:

“I want to cry.”

Because his horse got beat.

Finishing 6th is a fucking trauma there Princess Bride?

I know what you're thinking.

Is Bruno making all this up?'

I get it.

We all have our soft spots, but if you show your soft spot on social media you are fair game.

We all have lost a race. All of us, some of us as owners and others as gamblers.

We all get emotionally attached to horses. We all get disappointed when one we love gets beat. That's part of the game.

But there is a difference between being disappointed and needing the social-media equivalent of a grief counselor because your horse didn't win, but.......

There is no crying in racing.

Especially when you're talking about a million-dollar earner and a Breeders' Cup winner.

Come on.

The next step in your emotional evolution is to not respond but you know its too good to pass up.

I think the brother will survive.

He will pull through.

After a few tissues.

Maybe a hug.

A glass of water.

And eventually he will remember that she lived to race another day.

That's the game.

It's a fucking game where horses lose, we all been there, and that's not fake news.

This particular race was at Kentucky Downs, which, if you haven't noticed, is not exactly a racetrack where normal rules of physics, handicapping and sanity always apply, obviously.

Most people put an asterisk* next to a horse's name when they win.

Maybe—just maybe—we need to start putting an asterisk * next to a loss, too, especially if then owner starts crying.

The horse got beat.

That's racing.

Tomorrow is another day, another race, another opportunity to lose your money and question every decision you've made since breakfast.

And that, my friends, is perfectly normal.

So dry the eyes.

Put the tissues away. Stop spreading salty tears on the social media apps, them things are sensitive.

Get back on the virtual horse.

Because what happens at Kentucky Downs stays at Kentucky Downs.

You don't cry about it.

You don't need a support group.

You don't need 47 people on social media telling you everything is going to be okay.

You take it like the big boys with the big-boy pants on do.

In stride.

Because there is no crying in racing.

Ever.