Wow, RealityChuck, you’ve found me out! I did indeed choose this nickname partially due to my fondness for that brilliant filly. For those who have no idea who she was, she was (according to a recent Daily Racing Form) the best filly of this century–she consistently won races by large margins, setting records as she went, and was undefeated (racing only against other fillies). She was touted as the best horse, male or female, of the year. In 1976, during much of the hype of the Women’s Liberation Movement, a match race was set between Ruffian and Foolish Pleasure, that year’s Kentucky Derby winner. On the first turn, Ruffian has a neck ahead…then she broke down. She wasn’t exactly shot; she was sent to surgery to repair her mangled cannon bone and all attached tissues. When she awoke from the anesthesia, she panicked (this is the risk of surgery for racehorses), thrashed wildly, and in so doing undid all the repair her surgery had attempted. It was then that a lethal injection was given. She’s now buried in the infield of Belmont Park in New York, her grave covered with her blanket and roses.
Now, I’m not saying I’m going to break down if pushed! No macabre meaning intended. I simply love that filly, and her name happens to suit me. That’s all. No reading more into it!
A final note: for some odd reason, some of the most brilliant racing fillies–Ruffian, Go For Wand, Landaluce–shared the same gruesome fate. Watching Go For Wand’s destruction permanently altered my appreciation of the sport.
I used to think the world was against me. Now I know better: Some of the smaller countries are neutral.
No macabre meaning intended. I simply love that filly, and her name happens to suit me. That’s all. No reading more into it!