I was SO right. Yet why do i feel SO wrong?

Let's get the bragging out of the way. I was right about the Breeders' Cup Classic. WAY right. Blame won, like I have been preaching from the mountaintops the entire year. He beat Zenyatta in a thrilling photo, just as I predicted on the previous blog post. Lookin at Lucky finished off the board (just barely), as I have repeatedly said on Twitter. I should be on the top of the world, celebrating my predictions.

Yet I am not.

I know I watched from Hollywood Park what may end being the most emotional, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping race of my life. The only two horses who have ever impelled and inspired me to go out of my comfort zone of "the greater Los Angeles area" to see them run (whether it be in San Diego or New York). The two horses who a large piece of my heart, who I would become nothing more than a shell of a man if something happened to them. Those two horses ended facing one another, and I chose sides, somehow being able to keep my emotions in check for one brief moment of clarity. Yet I hoped if I had to be wrong, I was wrong just a little. But I was right. I should be throwing money around like it was going out of style.

Yet I am not.

Why? That is for another blog. But the part that I will mention is that rumors of Blame's demise via a quarter crack was the final straw that broke my already tenuous hold on sane reasoning, caused from the combination of life, Breeders' Cup and school all asking for my time. All of that lead me not to bet, but to just watch as a spectator. That I did, wearing my Blame shirt, my Blue TVG hat and my gray shorts, in fall contrast to the sea of pink and green signifying Zenyatta's fans. I knew I was one of the few who was going against the queen. After Blame successfully usurp the BC Classic throne away from the queen, I gave a couple of fist pumps, and a couple of gloating tweets about my prognostication. But that was all I could muster before an onrush of mixed emotion enveloped me. I should be happy that I was able to at least put into words my happiness over being right, in that moment.

Yet I am not.

I had to wait several days to write this post, to even try to understand and control my thoughts into something workable for the printed page. My mind was a swirl of happiness and sadness and excitement and depression, confusing me in a such a way that it took this long to fall back into at least some sense of normalcy. This post is more or less an odd of way saying thank you to both Blame and Zenyatta, as they mean so much to me that they made me do, see, feel things that I probably would not have done. I should be happy in how much they have, indirectly as it may seems, helped me turn into a better person.

Yet I am not.

Zenyatta was the first horse in a long time that I fell hard for on more than a paper level. From witnessing her maiden win live, to leaving an ER to see her El Encino win, to helping me understand the game is more than the gambling aspect (via her 2009 BC Classic win). That win made me realize that this game was more than about the big score, the life-changing payoff, the fact that ever time you were cashing a ticket it means you defeat all of those other people, it was about the horses. Her win was a "game-changer", so to speak. So to cheer more for someone else than her hurt me more than a little. But the one who I cheered for was more than a passing fancy. So I should be happy that she ran a huge race, yet did not win.

Yet I am not.

Blame was the horse who piqued my interest in a defeat of all things. His Super Derby second caught my eye, when I all I was watching the race for was to see how the track was playing after William's Kitten snapped my attention to the TV with his win earlier on the card. I love horses who don't give in, even if they are beat. His win in the Fayette validated my initial thought on him, and the Clark victory sealed in the love. The Blame Facebook page followed in the spring, when the time drew near for his first race of the season. I tried not once, not twice, but three times to see him in person, but each time the plans fell through. Finally this blog decided that enough is enough, and made the fateful trip to Belmont. Seeing Blame in person was worth the wait, even if this blog did not get a picture of him. But the trip ended being up so much more than just the horse, it was about the people, the experiences, the change. He made me move myself to a better place personally, socially, spiritually. They both did. So I should be happy that they both ran a huge race, and ran one-two, well clear of the others.

Yet I am not.

My heart, my mind, my entire being is filled with happiness over being right in the Classic, that the fact that ran their best and that they both came back safe from the race. My heart, my mind, my entire being is also filled with sadness over their retirement, their being no chance of a rematch and that they both will never be on a track again. The joy and pain of having the two horses that occupy a place in a person's heart going against each other in combat, with only one of them being able to declare victory on the day, is a feeling that many will never experience. But I would rather suffered through all of the agony and the ecstasy of the ride than never have experienced any of it. The change in my life brought upon these two is unquantifiable. Many would be ashamed by this post, and how i have claimed ownership over two things that I have nothing more than an emotional attachment to them.

Yet I am not.