SEABISCUIT

    My thoughts so often drift back to the marvelous story of Seabiscuit; a horse that some might have too quickly relegated to the petting zoo, or glue factory.

     I read the book by Laura Hillenbrand some time ago. What an absolutely magnificent book about an even more magnificent animal, and his jockey, “Red” Pollard. For this undersize colt literally stunned the world.   

     It was the Great Depression, and the common man needed a hero; human, animal, or otherwise. And that hero took the guise of a “broken down old horse.” But he was “the little horse that could.”

    Now Seabiscuit had a very difficult start in life, and no one seemed to give the horse much of a chance. Granted, he was the grandson of Man of War, but lineage doesn’t always “cut it,” and it soon seemed all too apparent that Seabiscuit would never amount to “a hill of beans.”

    

     But like so many of the good and glorious among us, he was sorely underrated.

     Red and Seabiscuit seemed to be born for one another. Cut out of the same mold, they came along “hard.” The symmetry was almost unbelievable. Seabiscuit was smaller than the average race horse, but consistently ate a double portion. Red was taller than the average jockey, and like so many in the profession, dieted to maintain the allowable weight.

     At one time, each of our heroes was counted out by doctors. Seabiscuit came up lame on the racetrack, and one leg had to be splinted. The vet claimed he’d never race again. Red Pollard was injured in a training accident, and one leg was severely injured. His physician told his employer that he’d never race again.

    At one time, (at least in the movie,) Red is heard exclaiming to Seabiscuit…

    “Cheer up ‘Pop’ (Seabiscuit) we still have four good legs between us!”

  

    Then there was the time when the little colt ran against an (almost) equally magnificent beast. War Admiral was known far and wide, and had won a huge number of famous races on any number of famous racetracks. Curious, the movie doesn’t bring it out, but War Admiral was of the same lineage as his little nemesis. He was actually Seabiscuit’s uncle.   

    The two-horse race was everything their fans could have predicted. At times neck and neck, they ran; sweat dripping down their heavily-muscled bodies. Another jockey rode the little horse that day, since Red was still recuperating from his serious accident. As the two animals rounded one turn, Seabiscuit had the lead, but then the seemingly unthinkable occurred. He wavered. Prior to the race, Red had urged his friend to slow the horse if a particularly vulnerable scenario developed.

    “Close the door. Okay, listen. If you find yourself in the lead, reign the horse in. Let War Admiral catch up.” Although George Wolfe, the other jockey, seemed incredulous, Red continued. “It almost always works. If ‘Biscuit’ looks into the eye of his challenger, he can’t lose.”

    Well, that’s exactly how it happened. Their eyes met, and Seabiscuit’s fierce determination shone more brightly than ever in his life. The little horse sprang forward, and crossed the finish line, well ahead of his larger foe.

    I was moved to tears as I watched the movie, and subsequently, read the book. What an absolutely memorable animal Seabiscuit was!

    As the movie comes to a close, the brave little animal is leading the pack at Santa Anita. Nothing stands between “Biscuit” and the finish line. We find ourselves in the jockey’s saddle, since that is the view we are given. And as the magnificent little horse nears the end of his final battle, Red muses in the background…

    “You know everybody thinks we found this broken down horse, and fixed him. But we didn’t. He fixed us. Everyone of us. And I guess in a way, we kinda fixed each other too.”

  

     The “Biscuit” eventually died, and was buried under a tree, in the very pasture where he’d grazed so often. Only his owner knew just which tree; and he never told.

     Red Pollard’s fame waned after Seabiscuit, though he continued to race in small stakes races. Towards the end of his life he was admitted to a nursing home; a sanctuary, on the very grounds of a track on which he’d raced his beloved little horse.

     Both the man and the animal have faded into obscurity, as more than half a century has elapsed. But no one can ever take away from what they accomplished together, how much they loved one another, and the magnificent team they were in that frail, fleeting race we call “life.”

     And I think that God puts excellence in the bosom of man and beast, alike. At least the potential for excellence. And every once in a while, someone like Red comes along. And every so often, someone like Seabiscuit comes along. And even more rarely, two combine to form a team that are second to none.

     Greatness flowed through the very veins of that little colt called “Seabiscuit.” And as small and as seemingly outmatched as he ever was, he never seemed to believe his critics. And I think the memory of that wonderful horse, what some referred to as “a dumb animal,” puts us to shame; every time we settle for less than our God-given potential, and His dreams for our lives. For scripture assures us…

     “You planned each and every day of my life, before I ever took my first breath.” (Psalms 139:16, MPV)

     As odd as it may sound, Seabiscuit will always be my hero.

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Musings", Copyright 2010

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