I’ve been trying to put Far Hills into words and will at some point this week. Here and in the Irish Field.
For now, though, the words to describe the death of Wicklow Brave are not there. Joe handled it well with his Sunday morning column, like he always does, and I’m glad he did. I will, but I’m not there yet. Not sure I’ll ever be there. It was as hard a day at the racecourse as I’ve ever known. The bravest horse, gone.
At the end of the day, Dad and I walked back to the barn, melted into the car and turned away from Far Hills racecourse, a place that has brought us to our knees before. But never like this.