I don’t know what the cause is, nor do I know the solution. The talking heads and keyboard warriors will spin in circles endlessly and futilely once again, many claiming they know the problem and/or the answer. Talk, talk, talk. Will something major change? Maybe. Likely, eventually. But until then, suggestions of change brings more talk and more debate and more fingers tapping on computer keys and more shaking fists and figurative torches set alight.
If something as clear cut as a medication positive leading to a disqualification (in a grade 1 race, not that that should make any difference) can lead to years of litigation and denial and appeal that still hasn’t resolved, then how can the more amorphous and sometimes unknowable chain of events leading to a catastrophic breakdown be distilled into rules and regulations? And moreso, how can those rules and regulations be embraced by those who benefit greatly by things As They Have Always Been?
My GenX “whatever” attitude is leaking through, but I do have hope. The televised coverage is more willing to address breakdowns head on, rather than brush them under the rug and move on to the next race as soon as possible. Hearing emotion in the various horsefolk’s interviews confirms that yes, they care, and yes, it’s devastating.
I yelled “F@@K!!! FUUUUUUUU@K!!” when New York Thunder broke down. My husband came to see what happened, so I rewound to show him (kinda wish I didn’t). In all the races he’s seen with me, in person and on TV, this is the first time I’ve heard him yelp in horror. He kept saying “Oh God!” and walked away. Both of us did. I couldn’t keep watching. We both felt nauseous and really wanted to go see our ponies and give them a hug, so we hugged each other instead.
I went back to watch the Travers after going outside for a bit, and damn, what a fantastic race. So conflicting, so confusing.
Hugging our fuzzballs a little more tightly