Horse Racing: Greatness slipped away from War Emblem

War Emblem thrilled horse racing fans with his run for the Triple Crown. While he fell short when he lost the Belmont Stakes, he is still a horse to remember.
Not long before the running of the Belmont Stakes on Saturday, June 8, 2002, Bob Baffert, trainer of War Emblem, the all but crowned Triple Crown winner, paid a visit to the stable of Seattle Slew, the 1977 Crown winner.

At the time of Baffert's visit, Seattle Slew was near death, crippled by arthritis and old age.

Baffert's sentimental sojourn to say good bye to the great champion underscored the similarities between Slew and War Emblem, both largely unheralded and purchased inexpensively.

If ever a steed stood poised for greatness and national adulation, it was War Emblem, who was trying to become the 12th Triple Crown winner and fourth since 1948.

The country seemed to thirst for a Triple Crown winner and his wire to wire domination at the Kentucky Derby followed by an overpowering victory at the Preakness placed War Emblem in a beatable field for the Belmont.

Yet, they had to run the race.

Once again, the formidable track at Elmont, New York posed an obstacle too difficult to overcome. War Emblem's stumble out of the gate and his fade in the home stretch claimed another Triple Crown aspirant.

We will now have to wait another year for another horse.

Jockey Victor Espinoza had positioned War Emblem for triumph. There was more than ample time, and his surge into third place seemed to make the outcome a mere formality.

How could Sarava or Medaglia D'Oro match the Derby and Preakness champion down the stretch?

The horse who had the capability, and history, of overpowering finishes seemed to give up.

Saravo and Medaglia D'Oro, on the other hand, found themselves in their own duel for history, with Saravo becoming the greatest long shot in Belmont Stakes history, at 70 to 1, to triumph.

Certainly War Emblem did not come to the Kentucky Derby with a mantle of greatness on his brow. His breathtaking victory at Churchill Downs established an aura of dominance and an expectation of greatness.

When given the opportunity to prevail at the Preakness, he was overpowering. The nature of his victory there, blazing down the stretch after effortlessly securing the lead, led to the curse of great expectation that has followed Baffert's previous Belmont disappointments.

In the days preceding Belmont, a sense of invincibility, and inevitability, enveloped War Emblem.

Unfairly, the mantle of Secretariat was bestowed upon him and he entered the race with victory expected of him and a nation eagerly waiting to celebrate.

Yet, within seconds, it was evident we would be waiting another year.

The sense of defeat, and struggle, surrounded War Emblem as he staggered out of the starting gate.

Viewers had a painful thrust of reality and fate, as you knew he wasn't going to make it to the front of the pack even when he made his move.

Certainly War Emblem was of Triple Crown caliber. He had the durability, speed, and heart to join the elite grouping of immortals. Yet in a sense, he, and Baffert, fell victim to a common malady in the vernacular of American sports today.

That being greatness bestowed before greatness is earned.

It has happened often, from the arrival of Mike Tyson in the mid-1980s, destined to be "the youngest and oldest Heavyweight Champion" to the 1986 New York Mets, winners of 116 games and forecast to reign for years.

The New Jersey Devils, two time Stanley Cup winners in the middle and late 1990s, one win away from a third cup last spring and positioned, quite prematurely, alongside the Montreal Canadian teams of the 1970s and New York Islander teams of the early 1980s.

Greatness remains elusive because the stuff of greatness is a rare commodity.

Secretariat was beyond great. Muhammad Ali, with his iron chin and heart, defined greatness. The New York Yankees, producing a consistent standard of excellence decade in and decade out, are the personification of greatness. The unstoppable Boston Celtic championship teams of the 1950s and 1960s were great.

The expectation of greatness is an enormous burden in sports today. That is why favorites often fall short.

There is no better example than Michelle Kwan, without question the dominant amateur figure skater of her era.

With all of her World Championships, Kwan twice was denied Olympic Gold, first by Tara Lipinski in 1998 and then Sarah Hughes in 2002, because the weight of expectation was not thrust upon either of them.

Had Saravo been the overwhelming favorite to capture the Triple Crown, the outcome would probably have been different.

Greatness is measured by enduring achievements.

When a pitcher wins 300 career games this is a measure of greatness. Ali's brutal triumphs over Sonny Liston, Joe Frazier and later George Foreman were a measure of greatness.

The Islanders four consecutive Stanley Cups, Secretariat's 31 length blitz at Belmont in 1973, Martina Navratilova's ten appearances in the finals at Wimbledon. The 1973 Miami Dolphins running the table, undefeated through the Super Bowl.

We live in an accelerated, speed oriented society. This is emphasized with the urgency to expose our children to subject matter that should be acquired with growth and maturity. Not enough importance is attached to substance, far too much to style.

Heroes don't evolve, they often are created. Meaningful achievements in society have less impact on young Americans than superficial achievements. Great accomplishments are often overlooked.

This is not to suggest War Emblem did not have the seed of greatness. The weight of expectation, and a dose of bad luck, proved too steep a hurdle for him to overcome.

Wait till next year!

By Donald Colgan
Published: 6/21/2002
 
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