Watching the Preakness on TV last May proved to be a horrendous experience, as Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro suffered a grotesquely broken leg. I've seen it happen with other thoroughbred race horses over the years, and it always sickens me.

As excited I am about the opening of Erie's new Presque Isle Downs in the fall of this year, the truth of the matter is that horses will break down. It happens all too often on even the best tracks.

At Fairview's now defunct Commodore Downs, longtime local race fans watched a horse who had won six or seven races in a row. Then, as he streaked toward the wire, leading the rest of the pack by six lengths, he suffered a massive, fatal heart attack. I thought I'd never forget that horse's name, but, unfortunately, I have.

The fragility of horses, especially thoroughbreds, is confounding, because, on one hand, you have these massive, noble creatures that weigh more than 1,000 pounds. But all of that weight is supported by four spindly legs. Without a moment's notice, they can and do snap, and then the horse must be put down.

Some owners, like Barbaro's, for instance, will go to greath lengths to try to save the horse's life. When Ruffian broke her leg in the famous 1975 match race at Belmont Park against Kentucky Derby winner Foolish Pleasure, veterinary surgeons labored for five hours to put her shattered leg back together. But when she stirred from the anesthesia, Ruffian shook the cast off and had to be euthanized.

Barbaro's battle to come back lasted eight months and must have cost a fortune. But it was always a longshot because so many other problems can crop up. And they did.

Such stories always reminded of the late Forrie Hopkins, a North East, Pa. newspaper editor and state representative. Hopkins, a great sportsman, owned several champion race horses, including the great Steppin' Pappy. The horse won many stakes races in exciting fashion before breaking its leg.

To collect on the insurance policy on the horse, Hopkins would have had to put Steppin' Pappy down. But after Pappy had given him and his family so many thrills, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Hopkins had the horse shipped back to North East, where, in time, he recovered and then retired to a life of leisure.

After Steppin' Pappy died, Hopkins had the horse buried in his front yard in the middle of downtown North East. It was a fiiting tribute to a fine horse.

-- Kevin Cuneo

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