starter Bob Duncan

There's nothing a horse can tell Bob Duncan about the terrors of a confined space. He was already on the gate crew, back in 1968, when he went to visit his parents at Laurel, where his dad was training a small string. After an evening at a nearby bar, his buddy threw him the keys. Different car, different handling. Coming to a railroad bridge, he suddenly realized that he wasn't going to make the turn. "We hit these cement pilings, plunged over the side," Duncan recalls. "We had waist belts...

Note from the publisher: If you're like many of us, you have been assailed by friends, family and members of your community as you have gone about your daily life for the past two weeks. "Was the horse drugged? Was it the cream?" I never thought I'd be discussing picograms at pickleball, but here we are. Sunday brought a new wave of texts and emails with the publication of an op/ed from the New York Times editorial board, and a devastating article in the New Yorker. People I haven't heard...