“Seabiscuit (May 23, 1933 – May 17, 1947) was a champion Thoroughbred racehorse in the United States. A small horse, Seabiscuit had an inauspicious start to his racing career, but became an unlikely champion and a symbol of hope to many Americans during the Great Depression.”

“The bay colt grew up on Claiborne Farm in Paris, Kentucky, where he was trained. He was undersized, knobby-kneed, and given to sleeping and eating for long periods. Seabiscuit was relegated to a heavy schedule of smaller races. He failed to win his first 17 races, usually finishing back in the field. After that, Fitzsimmons did not spend much time on him, and the horse was sometimes the butt of stable jokes.”

“Seabiscuit was injured during a race. Woolf, who was riding him, said that he felt the horse stumble. The injury was not life-threatening, although many predicted Seabiscuit would never race again”

After many, many failures, this little horse who was just 5 feet, 2 inches went on to become America’s thoroughbred racing’s greatest legend, at a time when the sport needed it the most.

Sometimes broken things fascinate me, broken people and now this once broken animal. Seabiscuit was too small to be a racehorse, his rider was too tall to be a jockey and his owner, well he was too dumb to know the difference and maybe that’s why he went on to become a legend.

That tiny excuse for a horse perhaps didn’t know he was tiny, in his mind he was a staggering stallion, he believed that every gallop he took, struck thunder below his hoofs, cracking the earth as he probably imagined the rest of the horses falling in the ditches of his tracks.

And sometimes, I wish we were all that naïve, dumb enough to be blind to our flaws. Stupid enough to not understand our weakness and tone deaf to the world’s opinion, on what we can and cannot do.

Seabiscuit was no extraordinary horse, he just didn’t know he was too short or knobby-kneed, after his new trainer Tom Smith began training him, he probably was too pompous to think about his failures in the past, all he knew was, that he was being trained for something big, all he knew was what he could do…

Tiny little horse, unaware and oblivious.

I for one, am highly aware of what I’m capable of and of what I’m not.

Sometimes I wish, I was not.




“Pandemonium engulfed the course. Neither horse and rider, nor trainer and owner, could get through the sea of well-wishers to the winner’s enclosure for some time.”






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