Flashback: Secretariat goes out a Canadian International winner

It’s a cold day at Woodbine. Rainy, too. What else would you expect from late October weather in Toronto, Canada?

On a dreary day a long way from Kentucky or Maryland, but just across Lake Huron from New York, a powerful chestnut Thoroughbred — already a legend in those three states — marches toward the Woodbine starting gate. Beneath his hooves he feels grass rather than dirt; it’s firm, or so they claim, but soaked with rain and unfamiliar. From the saddle, he can feel the cues of a stranger; guiding hands different than the ones usually in control of his reins.

The horse is a Triple Crown champion. The most valuable racehorse in history. Immortal in his own time, he’s the one and only Secretariat.

Yet here he is on a soggy, somber day in Canada, denouncing his obvious affinity for American dirt racing in favor of a testing run over a rain-soaked turf course in the 1973 Canadian International Championship Stakes. And he’ll make this run while guided by the unfamiliar hands of Eddie Maple, filling in for Secretariat’s regular jockey Ron Turcotte, who is serving a suspension.

Why is Secretariat tackling a task so farfetched, so foreign? Why is he vying for victory on grass when so many desirable dirt races remain to be run? Why is he risking his reputation for a meager purse in the final race of his glorious career?

Why else? Because his brilliance knows no boundaries. Because he can achieve things ordinary horses cannot. Because he is, in the famous words of Chic Anderson, a “tremendous machine.” He is no mere mortal; he is Secretariat.

They’re off. Maple lets the machine stretch his legs and find his stride. Secretariat is eager to go, but relaxed and responsive to his new rider; he settles in second behind Kennedy Road, two lengths behind his rival and about four lengths clear of the rest.

They cross the main track, over the dirt, and Secretariat doesn’t flinch. He gradually moves closer to Kennedy Road, who shifts out and bumps the chestnut champion. Secretariat, as though angered, promptly blazes past Kennedy Road. His legs pump like pistons as he rounds the far turn, leaving the pacemaker behind in a matter of strides. There’s a half-mile to run, but the machine has committed for home.

Secretariat is on the move. He relishes the grass beneath his hooves, effortlessly powering clear of his tiring pursuers. He’s five lengths in front, then seven, then 10. He’s in the home straight, galloping relentlessly toward the finish line. He’s a dozen lengths clear, in a race of his own, his breath bursting forth in cold clouds as fans flood the main track and sprint toward the turf course for a better view of the champ, the Triple Crown winner, the legend.

Maple never asks Secretariat for his best. He gallops home 6 ½ lengths in front, triumphant in the final race of his storied career, as brilliant on grass as on dirt, elevating his greatness to a new level by demonstrating the rare versatility to truly excel over both racing surfaces.

“This is the greatest piece of animal that I’ll ever lay my eyes on, let alone ride,” marvels Maple in a story by Bill Walker in the November 9, 1973, edition of the Victoria, British Columbia Times Colonist. Few will disagree.

Brilliance? Check. Versatility? Check.

Secretariat was one for the ages. They just don’t make them like they used to.

J. Keeler Johnson is a writer, videographer, handicapper, and all-around horse racing enthusiast. A great fan of racing history, he considers Dr. Fager to be the greatest racehorse ever produced in America, but counts Zenyatta as his all-time favorite. You can follow him on Twitter at @J_Keelerman.