 |
| The immortal, Cigar! |
For each of us, in our own very personal fashion, life is an ongoing battle, a struggle to balance responsibility and necessity with chance and desire, to temper the appetite for risk and adventure with a substantial dash of tincture of reality mixed gingerly with a dose of common sense. In our youth, with ten thousand sunrises upon our horizon, balance allows the foolhardy adventure, the taking of frivolous chance, the quest of the improbable if not impossible dream, for surely at this juncture time is our friend and ally, giving ample opportunity for pursuit and, if need be, also for recovery and realignment. As the memory of youth fades and the certainty of tomorrow's sunrise lessens, this balance for most now shifts towards caution and conservatism, for while the dreams remain ever strong and demanding, time is no longer perceived as the friend of the player. Perhaps it is awareness of such reality that fuels the fires of nostalgia and a yearning for some bygone era which, seen through aging eyes, appears as a better and more meaningful time in the annals of our endeavor. Perhaps.
It is through such aging eyes that my vision seeks to reflect upon a great horse from a time past, not so very long gone, but nonetheless a time to which the young of today cannot reflect through personal recall, but can partake through the wonder of digital technology. The concept of equine perfection has been a not uncommon topic of late, with the exploits of grand Zenyatta captivating all, and now Frankel and Black Caviar giving fodder to such conversation. Such has not always been the case, however, that exceptional horses, the very best of a generation, would so regularly flirt with perfection, at least not over any extended span. The reasons for this are uncertain and most certainly multiple but perhaps it is not unlikely that the lack of true "handicap" races in our modern era contribute to these currently witnessed prolonged winning streaks. In a bygone time of true handicap racing, the vastly superior horses of the day were assigned weights of such magnitude that eventually the playing field was equalled to the point where the hero would finally succumb, not to opposition, but to the intolerable burden of weight and weight discrepancy. Over the years the concept of true handicap racing became unacceptable to horsemen and they began declining invitations to race under such tremendous weight disparity. Racing secretaries, under pressure to have their track remain competitive, progressively succumbed to the demands of the horsemen and the days of the true weight carriers were soon history, the exploits of the likes of Kelso and Forego never likely again to be witnessed.
The period of the 90's witnessed this evolution, and fewer and fewer horses were allowed to answer the bell when asked to give significant weight to their challengers. There remained, however, the occasional holdout, that trainer and owner who believed that glory lay in the challenge of overcoming adversity and, if such undertaking resulted in defeat upon the racetrack, there was honor in such defeat. Such men were Bill Mott and Allen Paulson, trainer and owner respectively of the mighty Cigar. From October 28, 1994 through July 13, 1996, this magnificent bay horse was the very essence of racing perfection, winning an incredible 16 consecutive races while competing against the finest horses in the world. As victory followed victory, participation in successive handicap races demanded more and more weight and more and more weight discrepancy between he and his opponents. His final two starts in this string saw him carry 130 pounds while dispatching his over-matched opponents with apparent disdain. His streak finally came to an end at Del Mar in the G1 Pacific Classic, defeat coming not because of weight, but because of an unfortunate and infrequent riding error on the part of his Hall of Fame jockey, Jerry Bailey. That he was able to put together such a string of perfection, in so doing matching that of the immortal Citation, stands as a testament not only to his courage and brilliance, but also to the sportsmanship of his owner Allen Paulson and the training expertise of his trainer Bill Mott and his outstanding supporting team.
Cigar retired in 1996 after failing by a short head to win consecutive runnings of the G1 Breeder's Cup Classic. With career earnings standing at a then record $9,999,815, and an astounding 13 Grade One victories (plus 3 others that merited G1 ranking but did not meet the day's criterion for such recognition, including the inaugural Dubai World Cup), Cigar was retired just $185 short of the seemingly magical $10,000,000 earnings mark. It always spoke volumes to me about those handling his career that they said, "he may have lost just a little step," put his best interests first, and retired him so close to this number. It is well documented how Cigar sadly proved sterile. His infertility resulted in him becoming the property of his insurer and they, in turn, retired him to the Kentucky Horse Park where he has been available to the public on a daily basis for so many years now.
I have made it a habit to make the short journey to see Cigar at least twice yearly, often more frequently, ever since his retirement. I gaze upon his grandeur as he blissfully ignores me leaning on his fence, me uttering some silly words in a futile attempt to catch his attention, he all the while I'm sure silently chuckling at the old fool calling to him from the fence. I like to think of it as a little game we play while he, for his part, gives me little or no thought at all. As I gaze upon him, one of the truly great horses in the history of the American Turf, I wonder why many others, enlightened and highly knowledgeable horsemen, fail to appreciate his true wonder. There are accomplished horsemen who have never even once visited him, yet they will race around to every stud farm in Central Kentucky to stare upon stallions who could not have even warmed Cigar up on their very best days. For a horse so magnificent in appearance and so accomplished in his career, it amazes me that he is so seldom mentioned when discussion turns to the best of the best. Let me assure you, and of this have no doubt, when a horse takes on the very best the world has to offer over a two year period while overcoming burdens of weight, international travel and a multitude of racing surfaces, and in so doing is victorious in 16 consecutive races while winning effectively 16 Grade 1 races in his career, there is no horse...NO horse... that ever set foot upon a racetrack that had best not fear him!
This past Wednesday I attended the Kentucky Racing Commission's meeting pertaining to the phasing out of Salix (Lasix) in Kentucky. Leaving the meeting, and so tired of racing politics and the perpetual bad mouthing of the racing industry, I felt the need for an uplifting experience and so went to visit my old friend. I drove the 1/4 mile to the Hall of Champions where he resides, arriving just in time to see the great horse being shown to an adoring public, a public I might add that averaged around 60 plus years of age. After watching him being shown I quickly moved to his paddock fence and readied myself and my camera for the moment he was turned loose. As you can see from the accompanying photos, the old boy at 22 years of age still looks tremendous, moves as smooth as silk, and remains a tremendous figure of a Thoroughbred. As I look upon him I reminisce about his greatness and cannot help but wonder if I will ever see such accomplishments again in my lifetime...and I wonder why the old hardboots can't see and appreciate his wonder to behold, all in their own backyard. I always intended to go to Maryland to visit Northern Dancer but always put it off for some reason until it was too late and the old fellow had died. Cigar looks great but he's not getting younger. Do yourself a huge favor and take the trip to the Horse Park, bring your camera, and gaze upon true greatness and one of the finest horses America has ever produced.
