The 1973 Belmont
I’ve watched it, oh, a hundred times;
It never does get tiresome.
Inspiring in a way, of course,
It’s something I draw fire from.
I’m not the best that ever was,
So I’m an also-ran.
I’d rather be My Gallant, though,
Than thought of more like Sham.
My Gallant had a head in front
When they broke from the gate.
But long before they turned for home,
One horse had neighed, “Checkmate.”
I’d like be remembered
As the best to ever race,
Yet I would feel honored
For an instant to keep pace.
And while everyone has lauded
Secretariat and his strengths,
Just remember old My Gallant:
He missed second by a length.
2 thoughts on "The 1973 Belmont"
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Wonderful! The rhythm of this makes me think Casey at bat—another poem about sports—but this one holds its own.
Thanks! Maybe I should have held this for next year, the fiftieth anniversary.