We love secretariat page.

1991. Spendthrift farm. Sham. What a talent he was🐎

SECRETARIAT 🐎 SHAM
KENTUCKY DERBY 1973
At the top of the lane Sham was up by a length, but Secretariat was coming for him. He rolled down the centre of the track like the irresistible force, caught Sham at the three-sixteenths pole, lingered deliciously for a moment, and then asserted with a furlong to run. And that was that.
There was nothing wrong with Secretariat’s knees. There was nothing lacking in his stamina. And he was the better horse, the best horse.
Fast, faster, fastest
Turcotte drove him out, the gap widening to 2½ lengths, and when they hit the wire the clock stopped at 1:59⅖s, a new record time for the Kentucky Derby, Northern Dancer’s 1964 mark of 2:00 flat smashed into little pieces.
Fast, faster, fastest. That’s the Kentucky Derby, the greatest minute-59-and-change in sport. Secretariat’s record still stands.

Mr. Sweat brought great skill and knowledge, compassion, understanding and attentiveness to the job. On nights prior to race days, he slept on a cot outside Secretariat’s stall to guard against possible tampering. His devotion to that horse was dawn to dusk, and then some. Mr. Sweat could have become a very successful trainer, but he was raised in the forties in rural South Carolina, as one of nine children born to a sharecropper. All his life he could not look a white person in the eye, so he stayed on the backstretch🐎

The Little White Shed That Changed Racing History🐎
Not every legendary place is grand. Some are just a small white shed in the middle of a field.
This is the foaling shed at The Meadow, Christopher Chenery's farm near Doswell, Virginia, where on March 30, 1970, Secretariat was born — the horse who three years later would end a 25-year Triple Crown drought and still holds the record time in all three American classics to this day.
Bred by Meadow Stud and owned by Meadow Stable (Christopher Chenery, later his daughter Penny Chenery), Secretariat was trained by Lucien Laurin and won 16 of his 21 career starts, earning $1,316,808 in the process. The Meadow also produced another champion, Riva Ridge, winner of the 1972 Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes.
The foaling shed has been preserved and now sits within Meadow Event Park, listed on the National Register of Historic Places as part of The Meadow Historic District.
Greatness sometimes starts in an unassuming white shed.
Have you ever visited The Meadow, or do you know of other preserved historic sites from American racing history 🐎

Secretariat 🐎
Charlie Davis 🐎

SECRETARIAT 🐎
Ron tells of Secretariat’s Extra Gear🐎
Secretariat was not really extra wide on top where my saddle sat, but he had a broad chest so that his front legs were spread farther apart than Riva Ridge, who was wide on top but had a narrow chest so his front legs would be planted closer together. That did give Secretariat a better balance so he could handle any type of surface. He was more sure-footed than Riva Ridge and that explained why Riva didn’t try hard on a muddy track or on the turf. We call that top heavy. To explain this better, say you were to load heavier stuff on top of a vehicle than on the bottom. It would be easier to tip your vehicle while turning than if you had put most of the weight first and than the lighter stuff on top.

When it comes to conformation, I would say that Secretariat was as close to a perfect specimen as you could find. If one wanted to get real picky about it, I guess the only thing you could probably find fault with would be what Penny [Chenery] used to call his slight goose rump, which is the way his rump sloped down right at the end. Personally, I think that was to his advantage because it allowed his back legs to reach farther under him and he could propel himself farther with every stride than any horse I ever rode.

I don’t know how to explain how it felt when he would kick into that “extra gear,” as they say, except to compare it to the feeling you get when you really press down on the accelerator and feel that surge forward. You could really feel it. The beauty of it is that when he was right, he was always so generous and manageable that I could do it at any time in the race then get him to relax and do it again depending on how the race was developing. It allowed me to make whatever move was needed to get position and I knew that I still had enough to finish the race. It made it very hard for other riders as he was so versatile they never knew what to expect. There was no way to plan a strategy around his style of running. His stamina was also unbelievable. He could sustain a move for longer that any horse I’ve ever known, and he proved it in the Derby and the Belmont.

Secretariat, Ron and Eddie 🐎

The crowd's roar faded into one sound: a heartbeat, steady and immense — the same one Eddie felt every time he brushed Secretariat's copper coat.
Two weeks before Belmont, Pimlico. Eddie gripped his cap, nerves tight. Churchill Downs had already made the c**t a legend, but the Preakness was a new test, new doubts.
The gates opened. Secretariat lingered, as he always did. Come on, boy.
Then he moved — and the field disappeared behind him. By the first turn, he was gone.
"Once he moved," Eddie said, "it was like he had wings. You couldn't catch him, because he wasn't just running — he was flying."🐎

Secretariat's team — behind the legend🐎
He was never just a horse. He was a team breathing in rhythm with him.
This vintage photo captures the quiet routine before every triumph: Lucien Laurin, the trainer who shaped him into a phenomenon, riding the stable pony Billy Silver — the calm companion for every morning walk. Behind them, Charlie Davis, the exercise rider who worked him on the track, and Eddie Sweat, the groom who cared for him daily, the man Secretariat followed like a son follows someone he trusts completely.
No cameras rolling, no crowds. Just dirt, the sound of hooves, and men who knew that horse better than anyone alive.
Greatness is never built alone. It's built by hands that show up every single morning, in silence.
Who do you think mattered most behind Secretariat — Laurin, Sweat, or Davis..🐎

Secretariat — Belmont, June 9, 1973🐎
He didn't run to win. He ran to leave no doubt — 31 lengths of pure thunder.
A heart twice the size of any rival, beating for a groom who touched him, a jockey who trusted his hands, a woman who believed in him first.
49 miles an hour. Records that still stand, half a century later.
Not a racehorse. A once-in-history creature who ran like he had wings.
Secretariat wasn't speed. He was poetry at full gallop🐎