My voice is no longer horse…er hoarse. I finally snapped out of my daze, picked up my heart, stuffed it back into place and gathered my thoughts. Well, gathered them enough to coherently string together a few words on the subject matter.
On Saturday, I witnessed one of the most thrilling yet heartbreaking moments in my history of being a sports fanatic. I have endured the heartbreak before. The Suns losing to the Bulls in the 1993 NBA championships….the Cardinals losing the Super Bowl to the Steelers.
I think what makes some of the losses harder to take is when retirement is looming and you are watching an athlete in the sunset of their career. Andre Agassi, Pete Sampras, Lance Armstrong and Roy Jones Jr…..I wanted to see them all go out with a win. We like our great ones to stay great. That rarely happens.
So was the case on Saturday for Zenyatta, running for twentieth and final time in the Breeders Cup. With a win, she would achieve something very few athletes have ever experienced….perfection.
How could you not root for her? The Guinness swilling horse with the sassy attitude. A mare competing in a field dominated by stallions and coming out the dominatrix. Even better than the fact that she isn’t male, she isn’t man. Her ego will never overshadow or tarnish her accomplishments. I am content in the fact that I will never hear of her being accused multiple times of assault, no headlines of “junky” texts, no ridiculous, self-absorbed press conferences and no diminishing her legacy by acting like an ass when being into inducted into the hall of fame.
Heartbreaking, yes but a loser? Not in any way, shape or form.