The Thrill of Victory Is Never Gone

The Thrill of Victory Is Never Gone

By Sean Clancy

And that’s a wrap.

Another steeplechase season comes to a close. March to November, from New Kent to New York, Monkton to Middleburg, Foxfield to Far Hills. Helter on skelter. Like always, there were ups and downs. It’s the definition of the sport, the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the crest and the crestfallen. I guess that’s why we do it.

Back when I was riding, I couldn’t understand why owners owned horses. Now, over 20 years since I last rode a race, I understand it. People still ask me, “Do you miss riding?” It took a while to process it, but eventually I realized how I miss it. Like college. College was great, but do you miss it? Do you want to go back? Do you want to do it again?

I miss riding races like college. A segment of time, a time of my life. But I don’t yearn to do it again, I don’t wish to go back, I don’t want to be the person I was then. And I certainly don’t need the thrills I needed then. Sure, I still have frustration dreams—can’t find my tack, can’t get out of the paddock, can’t get to the start. That’s normal, surely, please tell me that’s normal…

Sean Clancy still looks at racing through excited eyes.

Photo by Vicky Moon

Now, we own horses and now I understand why owners own horses. The challenge, the distraction, the thrill, the camaraderie, the competition.

You’ve seen the ZEST ad, right? That’s me, fist pumping after City Dreamer won a $100,000 stakes in Nashville, Tenn. That’s the euphoric moment of winning a race, winning a photo finish, when everything goes right. Your horse, your team, your idea, your passion, your dream. It’s not the same euphoria as riding the winner, but it’s close. As close as you can get.

A few years ago, I tried to sell a share in a horse to a former jockey (it could have been City Dreamer!) and he declined. “Sean, I’ve owned some horses and, you know, winning a race as an owner doesn’t come close to the feeling of riding a winner.”

I looked at him, dumfounded. I nicely took his no and walked away, thinking, “Of course it doesn’t. Why would you think it possibly could?”

A veteran jockey came to me in the paddock at Montpelier in early November and said he was thinking about retiring if he rode a winner on the day. He said, “I still enjoy it. I still like doing it. I like the people I ride for. I like the horses. I don’t know what I’d do…”

I stopped him right there and launched an advice column.

“You won’t find anything to replace it. Find something that will challenge you, entertain you, confound you, energize you, but forget about trying to find something to replace it. You never will. You’ll be jumping out of airplane windows and buying fast red cars if you spend your life trying to replace it.”

He nodded his head, agreeing, but had no idea what I meant. He will.

Life goes that way. I talk to my 88-year-old father after every one of our horses run. We celebrate. We commiserate. We criticize. We consternate. He used to ride them, own them, train them and give his son a leg up in the paddock. From 1983, when I was 13, slipping and sliding on the back of a pony until 2000, when I was 30 and my ability had been honed and my desire had waned.

We had great days and, by God, we had some bad days. Now, we share the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the ups and downs. We live away from the direct heat we both once craved but are still on the hearth of a sport that has defined our days.

It’s a different view than it once was but a nice view just the same.