Horse racing is death. It must be lifeless.
(Boy, do I hit the floor strolling with a sports humor column, or what?)
I say this no longer in response to 22 horse fatalities at Santa Anita racetrack due to Dec. 26; I say this because horse racing could no longer exist without the involuntary participation of its 4-legged athletes.
They are changing medicinal drug policies, decreasing the whip’s usage, and examining song surfaces. However, that is nothing more than shuffling deck chairs at the backstretch of a dying industry. Besides being imperiled via other varieties of gambling, horse racing should be felled by way of an easy, moral truth:
It’s simply wrong.
You might look out your bedroom window and disagree; however, Couch Slouch would like to believe we’ve advanced as a subculture. With our evolution comes the conclusion that different living beings—horses, dogs, lions, bass, even pigs—need to no longer be used for recreation or leisure or, frankly, for our meals.
What, you observed Affirmed awoke every morning questioning, “Man, I need to kick Alydar’s butt on Saturday?”
Don’t tell me those horses are bred to run; they’re forced to run. They don’t have any preference, as my mom told me to finish my chickpeas.
(This occurred as late as years in the past.)
Horse racing, of the path, is deeply rooted in American history.
Its origins date lower back to spring 1883:
Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday were in Gunnison, Colo., at some point during a three-day Presidents’ Day weekend and were bored; they were nowhere near Atlantic City or any Indian online casino and craved motion.
(I invite the one’s readers who’re acquainted with this oft-told tale to pass to the quit of the column.)
They decided they would wager $5 to see who could run to the spruce tree fastest. Holliday became particularly enamored with this because his internist had suggested he exercise extra and reduce his beef jerky intake to lower his cholesterol.
They raced more than once before Earp realized, “This is silly. We’re each getting worn out. Let’s make the horses run, and we’ll guess which one is the fastest.”
So they covered their horses, slapped them both on their backsides, yelled, “Giddy up!” and watched the stallions race to that tree. But now they determined brand new trouble—the horses saved going for walks beyond the tree, and it was tough to get them to return.
Holliday started to Earp, “This is also silly. We’Were given to get at the horses ourselves and experience them to the finish line so thay gained’t runoff.”
Earp replied, “No, Doc. As a substitute, I’d watch the horses we guess on than should trip them. We have to lease people to experience the horses for us.”
And, as fate might have it, they glanced at a nearby abode, saw smallish men sitting on the front lawn, and waved them over. The jockey was born.
(By the way, the horses speakme anonymously because they fear recrimination. They told Equine Monthly later that year, “We don’t need to race. We want to face around and take inside the lovely barren region.”)
As a 9—or 10-year-old, I used to take my right foot and spoil anthills I saw alongside the sidewalk; I am certainly embarrassed by this.
As a 39- or forty-12 months-antique, I used to go to the racetrack and gamble at the ponies; I am honestly embarrassed by this.
And, now, as a 59- or 60-year-old — I’ve lost count of the number of days — I eventually understand that animals deserve higher treatment than as our play toys or prey targets.
So, please, no extra sled puppies or display puppies. No greater greyhounds or horse racing. No more cockfighting or dogfighting. No more elephants on the circus or orcas at SeaWorld. No extra looking and fishing.
I’m not even positive that we must lazily ride horseback on a rustic trail. Would you need to hold a person in your lower back for half an hour?
I’m a big Lone Ranger fan. However, he ought to Uber to his next crime scene.
Ask The Slouch
Q. If NCAA event play-by-way of-play announcers refer to a three-point shot as a “triple,” why don’t they name a two-point shot a “double” or a free thrstrikeiane an “unmarried”? (Ken Giglio; Silver Spring, Md.)
A. If you have been an announcer, you’d be in the broadcasting corridor of reputation by now.
Q. When will the NCAA tournament expand to 128 teams, with all teams playing a “play-in” sport? (Joe Salo; Latham, N.Y.)
A. I hope the NCAA credits you with this while expanding March Madness to 128 teams.
Q. Would you take Mike Trout for 12 years and $430 million or Bryce Harper for 13 years and $330 million? (Tim Madigan; Cedar Rapids, Iowa)
A. Besides being the higher participant, Trout is happier and healthier. Harper is “daily” year-round.
Q. First bowling, then bridge — are you heading to Backgammon? (David Wong; San Diego)
A. Curiously, the doubling dice brought about my 2nd marriage.
Q. Are you a two-time loser in case you paid a bribe to get your child into Trump University? (Andy Hatch; Rixeyville, Va.)
A. Pay the person, Shirley.
