MIRACLE OF MIRACLES By Jeff Tanner, Guest Blogger

Thunkin Theodore - photo finish

Miracle of miracles, I was scheduled to teach a two-day workshop in San Antonio when I learned my horse, Thunkin Theodore, was running in the 4^th race at Retama Park in Selma, Texas, just outside San Antonio. What a great opportunity! I invited the entire workshop to come out for the race – and a photo in the winner’s circle if we won.

We decided to name him for our oldest son, Ted, and honor Ted’s namesake, my baseball-playing uncle. Hence the name “Thumping Theodore,” also Ted Williams’ nickname. My uncle wasn’t the caliber of Ted Williams, only rising to A ball in the minors. But the Jockey Club couldn’t read my writing on the application so Theo’s official name was Thunkin Theodore.

When he was born, we didn’t know what kind of horse we had. Was he hard-working or lazy? Smart or dumb? Our hearts soared with hope when he raced other foals and yearlings in the pasture, always running through to the end even when he wasn’t first. The road from a race around the fence line to the winner’s circle at the track, though, is long and arduous.

We still weren’t sure about him after his first two races. We first tried him on turf—his sister won twice on the grass. But our big strapping bay tiptoed all the way around the track. That’s not how you win. So this time, we were trying him on the dirt. And this time, the competition was steeper than any he’d faced.

Still, despite the fluttering in my stomach, I’d only promised the workshop’s participants a night’s entertainment, not a victory. The odds-makers agreed, with Theo not among the favorites.

About eight of the participants took me up on my offer, clustering around me, the trainer, and the jockey in the paddock before the race. Tommy Morgan, my trainer, was a laconic West Texan, not prone to talking. The jockey, however, enjoyed chatting up the young blonde in our group.

When the horses broke from the gate, Theo was right there, in fourth a little off the pace, just as Tommy instructed. That way, there’d be juice in the tank at the end.

The horses turned for home with Theo in second. At the 8^th pole, a furlong before the end of the race, he was in first, with a horse coming up on his left and another to his right. Each of the other horses surged forward, both on the inside--between Theo and the rail. Theo responded, running even harder.

He was determined.

You can’t train that into a horse. It’s part of who they are. That’s what separates the winners from trail ponies and yard art.

Theo was so determined that he sprained a ligament just after he crossed the finish line, though we didn’t know it at the time. Our little group posed in the winner’s circle with a triumphant Theo and his smiling jockey. Even Tommy had a small grin, apparently entertained as he watched the jockey talk more with the blonde.

As Tommy said, “It helps when the jockey has a little extra motivation.”

Later, I took the group back to the stables. Theo was enjoying an after-race snack of fresh grass alongside the fence. Another horse was being led by.

Theo saw him, raised up, and trumpeted loudly. “I won! I am the King!”

The other horse lowered his head and slunk past.

Theo’s ligament healed up nicely and he came back to race--and win--again. Over his career, Theo ran in twelve races, posting two wins and two second places. When his racing days were over, he became a jumper, continuing to compete, continuing to give it his all. But that first win – that was special.

Miracle of miracles.