I have an hour to kill before my flight to New Orleans to see Birdbird run in the Louisiana Derby. I drop into the Jet Rock bar at Philadelphia International Airport and order a Bud Light and a taco salad. Like any airport bar, a wall of televisions displays a smorgasbord of news, sports and games shows. CNN is reporting on that smoky jet crash in Indonesia, just the thing a guy getting on a plane in thirty minutes wants to watch. The footage would make your average air traveler a little nervous but not me, as my Bud Light disappears my mind wanders off to all the little things that go wrong with a horse, a sudden fever, cough. What if he doesn't finish his feed? These are the same fears that would go through my mind when I owned horses in partnerships. Of course nothing bad every really happened but that did not stop me from worrying about it. I always assumed the worst. That's why I could never cope with having a "big" horse like Birdbird, I'd worry myself to death.
I fly enough that flying should not make me jittery but it still does; takeoffs are the worst; defying gravity doesn’t agree with me. A little while later the flight attendant takes my drink order, she notices the Smarty Jones cap I am wearing, maybe she senses my mood. After she takes my order she says “Didn’t Barbaro break your heart?" Yeah he did, I reply.