The day before Preakness Stakes (gr. I) 131, Barbaro arrived at Pimlico by van to a hero’s welcome, as a gauntlet of photographers, cameramen, and writers greeted racing’s newest superstar. Barbaro stared out the van window at the large throng that had gathered. It was a stark contrast from the halcyon days spent over the past two weeks at the Fair Hill Training Center.
The following day, Barbaro was once again on a van staring out the window, this time at an even larger crowd. On this occasion, however, the hordes of people were not greeting the horse, but bidding him farewell. Many believed for the last time.

As the van departed Pimlico with a police escort for the hour-and-45-minute drive to the New Bolton Medical Center in Kennett Square, Pa., people wandered about with emotionless faces, some still showing the signs of recently shed tears.

The horrific injury suffered by Barbaro in the Preakness was the tragedy of Thoroughbred racing. The triumph was Bernardini’s spectacular victory, one that deserved to be played out in front of cheering, appreciative fans instead of a grief-stricken crowd jolted into stunned silence. The two faces of racing formed one conflicting picture, as Bernardini, 5 1/4 lengths ahead of his closest pursuer, charged past Barbaro, who stood helplessly just past the finish line in front of a record 118,402 fans.

Just seconds before, he was running free, with a cool May breeze in his face and adrenaline pumping through his body. All was as it should have been. Then came a sensation he had never felt before. His right hind leg, which had helped propel him to victory after victory, suddenly became lifeless, shattered by three fractures that crushed his pastern into 20 fragments of bone