Remembering Barbaro: A Book Excerpt

A jockey recalls the fight to the finish of America's favorite horse.

From Reader's Digest Originally in My Guy Barbaro
My Guy Barbaro
Edgar Prado
Barbaro, No. 8
Barbaro and his jockey
My experience with this animal
shook me to my soul. A full year after
he triumphed in the Kentucky Derby,
I was still seeing tears
in people's eyes when
they approached me.
Dave Black
Edgar Prado and Barbaro were a winning combination.
javascript:void(0);
Dave Black
"Barbaro did so much for me," says Edgar Prado.
javascript:void(0);
Dave Black
And they're off! Barbaro, No. 8, charges out of the starting gate at the 2006 Kentucky Derby, with Prado at the reins.
javascript:void(0);
Barbaro and his jockey stun the crowd at Churchill Downs, 2006. "He was at the peak of his glory," says Prado.
javascript:void(0);
Sabina Louise Pierce /Horsephotos.com
My experience with this animal shook me to my soul. A full year after he triumphed in the Kentucky Derby, I was still seeing tears in people's eyes when they approached me.
javascript:void(0);
My Guy Barbaro
Dave Black
Edgar Prado and Barbaro were a winning combination.
Image Image Image Image Image

Built to Run

The first time I ever laid eyes on Barbaro, I finished what seemed like half a mile behind him in the Laurel Futurity, a turf race for two-year-old thoroughbreds at Laurel Park in Maryland. Barbaro had raced just once before. He was still so unknown that the track announcer mispronounced his name as "Bar-BEAR-oh."
But boy, on that November day in 2005, he was already a rocket. He finished so far ahead of my horse and the others that I didn't see much of him, except for his rear getting smaller and smaller in the distance. The other jockeys and I needed binoculars.

A brown bay with a splash of white between his eyes, Barbaro was a towering 17 hands tall -- almost six feet -- and bulged with muscles. Most of the other horses in the race were a foot shorter and noticeably thinner; they were equine teenagers, all legs and painfully gawky. Barbaro was the same age but with sturdy legs, a broad rear and a bodybuilder's physique, naturally built to run hard. The colt, owned by Roy and Gretchen Jackson, wasn't sleek and slender. He was all jock.

I said to his jockey that day, Jose Caraballo, "Wow, Jose, that's a nice horse. A really nice horse." Caraballo smiled. "He did all that by himself. I never touched him."

That night, I called my agent, Bob Frieze. If Barbaro's trainer, Michael Matz, ever wanted to change jockeys, I said, I would love to ride him.

On New Year's Day, 2006, I finally got my chance, at the Tropical Park Derby in Miami. Before the race, I put on my silks and went to the paddock to see Barbaro. He was larger and even more fearsome than I had recalled. I looked him in the eye before I got on him. He gave me a level gaze in return. He seemed to be saying, Come on! Let's do it. Even before we went into the starting gate, I liked him. Horses can sense affection. They read how you look at them, how you hold the reins. I also don't feel I have to be in control of them. I don't think you can ever be in control of a horse. It's a bigger and stronger animal, and if it wants to do something, it does. I respected that. Barbaro relaxed with me.

We won our first race by four lengths. His running style was so smooth that I felt like I was flying. After we crossed the finish line, I reached down and patted his long, muscular flank. I figured I'd just ridden the best turf horse of my career.

Soon after, Michael and the Jacksons decided to switch Barbaro over to dirt. Though his pedigree screamed turf (Barbaro's father, Dynaformer, had set a track record on grass and sired many winning turf horses), dirt racing dominates in the United States. The Triple Crown series of thoroughbred horse racing -- the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes and the Belmont Stakes -- are all run on dirt.

In early February 2006, Barbaro and I raced together again, in the Holy Bull Stakes at Gulfstream Park, near Miami. He won the race, his fourth straight win, and was barely breathing hard after 11⁄8 miles. I was delighted. I told my agent, "This horse has the potential to be a superstar on dirt."

"You like him that much?"

"I like him that much."

In April we won the Florida Derby together. That's when Gretchen asked me if I wanted to ride Barbaro in the Kentucky Derby. And just one month later, on May 6, 2006, in front of a racetrack audience of about 160,000 people and millions worldwide, I would be riding him in the biggest race in America. Anything was possible.

Must Read
Should Everyone Read This?
Page 1 of 4 Next

Your Comments

See all

...

Post your commentCancel

You will be asked to sign in or register to post a comment

Characters Remaining

The real tragedy here is that these horses are ridden too young. Their bones are still maturing andBy Tamdab, on 05/03/2008

Fresh content for this Saturday, July 5, 2008

1. Supermarket Trend

America's Shrinking Groceries

time.com

3. Sound Advice

15 Sleep Prescriptions for Worriers

rd.com

4. Fun Lists

What Are People Buying at the Supermarket?

grocerylists.org

5. Unhealthy Foods

Carnival Treats to Avoid

epicurious.com

More "Daily 5s": Yesterday | This Week

Advertisement
Related Links
  • Troubled Teens Taming Wild Horses
  • Every summer at a Kentucky horse camp, it's a battle of wills -- between wild mustangs and the kids who try to tame them.
  • Hero Pets
  • We asked for your stories. Here are our picks for best in show.

A Mafia Godfather hires a deaf bookkeeper, because a deaf bookkeeper can't hear anything he might have to testify about in court. The Godfather finds out his bookkeeper cheated him out of 10 million bucks.
The Godfather's lawyer knows sign language, and both pay the bookkeeper a little visit about the missing $10 million. The Godfather tells the lawyer, "Ask him where the 10 million bucks he embezzled from me is." The attorney signs to the bookkeeper, asking where the money is.
The bookkeeper signs back, and the lawyer translates, "He doesn't know what you're talking about."
The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to the bookkeeper's temple and says, "Ask him again!"
The attorney signs to the bookkeeper, "He'll kill you if you don't tell him!" 
The bookkeeper signs back, "OK! You win!  It's in a brown briefcase buried by the shed in my cousin Enzo's backyard!"
The Godfather asks the attorney, "Well, what'd he say?" 
The attorney replies, "He says you don't have the guts to pull the trigger."

-- Sean Linthicum


Advertisement

Sponsored Features