Rachel Blount: Barbaro's long struggle is over, but hope remains

Barbaro had endured several crises throughout his eight months of medical treatment, but his veterinarian's demeanor telegraphed a distressing hint of finality last weekend. Dr. Dean Richardson had been the girder supporting the Kentucky Derby winner's shattered leg. When the horse faltered again Sunday, this granite-willed man finally sounded weary.

He was upset, he said. He was worried. He couldn't sleep. Richardson always had been a realist about Barbaro's long odds, a man whose emotions rarely seeped through his surgical mask. That couldn't stop his tears on Monday, when Richardson explained the decision to euthanize his gallant patient.

Barbaro splintered his right ankle in the first furlongs of the Preakness on May 20. Richardson repaired it with 27 screws and a gut full of chutzpah, then shepherded the 3-year-old colt through several more surgeries and a bout of laminitis -- a hoof disease that caused 80 percent of his left hind hoof to be removed -- while using fiberglass casts, special shoes and a full-body sling to try to make him whole again.

Second-guessing and passing judgment now seem to be two of America's favorite sports, so expect both to be in full swing today. Many have questioned the motivation and ethics of Barbaro's owners and doctors. The truth is that Barbaro had eight largely pain-free months bathed in love and carrots and hope, time he would not have had if he had been euthanized on the Pimlico track. And his people, in the end, kept the public promise they made to the big bay: When the options ran dry, they let him go.

"We were all there, and he knew it," said Richardson, chief of veterinary surgery at the University of Pennsylvania's New Bolton Center, where Barbaro had been treated since his injury. "He was comfortable and alert. It could not have been any more peaceful.

"The only gratification I can get out of this is that this horse had eight or nine [extra] months, the vast majority of which he was a happy horse."

In the months to come, Richardson and Barbaro's owners, Roy and Gretchen Jackson, should find comfort in the legacy created by their efforts to save the colt. It was not a selfish decision, as some have said; on the contrary, it was extraordinarily generous.

The Jacksons spent tens of thousands of dollars on Barbaro's care with little chance they would recover any of it through stallion fees or other means. Barbaro's medical team devoted tremendous intellectual, creative and emotional resources to prolonging his life. In doing so, they expanded the body of veterinary knowledge and inspired Barbaro's fans to donate more than $1 million to a fund for the hospital where he was treated.

The Jacksons were motivated by their love for the horse. The vast public outpouring for Barbaro kept them going, through the psychic gantlet of setbacks and false hopes. Thousands sent handmade cards, e-mail messages, bouquets of apples and baskets of peppermints during Barbaro's hospital stay, touched by a courageous horse and a complement of humans who would not give up on him.

Dr. Stephanie Valberg even saw a local impact. "It's an amazing story, and Barbaro raised awareness of the things we're doing here," said Valberg, director of the University of Minnesota Equine Center, which will provide cutting-edge treatment when it opens later this year. "People know now about the advances in veterinary medicine and how dedicated these horse owners and veterinarians are. That's what Barbaro leaves behind."

Richardson said over the weekend that it would be time to "quit" if the horse began to suffer. He and the Jacksons made that decision Monday morning when an abscess in Barbaro's right rear hoof and signs of laminitis in his front feet put him in distress.

But there was no quit in any of them, only endless courage and compassion. That explains why strangers were so transfixed by this saga, and it answers the question of why so many people cared so much about a horse.

"People loved him because he was a great athlete," Richardson said. "People love greatness."

The veterinarian recognized that Barbaro's greatness revealed itself on the track but came into full bloom in his fight for life. His saga proved that bravery can come on four legs or two, and that the tremendous heart that fuels champion racehorses can beat inside humans as well.

Much of horse racing's allure lies in the promise of the future. An old racing maxim states that no one ever committed suicide with a good 2-year-old in the barn. As the Jacksons mourn Barbaro, they await the arrival of his second full sibling, due to be born in Kentucky this spring.

The foal might be as fast as its big brother. Perhaps it will be as noble, maybe even as beautiful. But will it be as special?

We can hope. That, after all, is what Barbaro taught us.

Rachel Blount is at rblount@startribune.com