Bobby Frankel

Bobby Frankel died today. Something about it just seems surreal. One of the greatest trainers the world has ever known is gone. And even though he was blessed to live for 68 years, it still seems as if he's gone way too soon. I guess every death, in it's own way, feels like that, though.

I never had the opportunity to meet Mr. Frankel, and while I wish I had, I'm content to know of him through the stories passed along from others. Bobby Frankel was my favorite trainer in the game. I don't use the world master often, but if anyone deserves that title, it's him. Patient, but not quite to a fault, Mr. Frankel was the type of guy that would sit on a horse for weeks, if not longer, just waiting for that perfect race. And while this tactic might have drove fans crazy, it worked very, very well.

I remember when the Eclipse Awards ballot came out last year. 'Champion Trainer' finalists were Steve Asmussen, Rick Dutrow, and....Bobby Frankel? Frankel? How's he a finalist? So I ran to the statistics. Asmussen had earned 19+ million, trained Curlin, and won twice as many races as the next guy. Dutrow had nearly won a Triple Crown, and trained a handful of champions and G1 winners including Big Brown and Benny the Bull, and had been the 'face' of training for 2008. And then there's Frankel. Not Pletcher, not Mott, not Zito, Baffert or Suroor, but Frankel. What had he done? And then I dug in. He'd quietly won Grade 1 races with Ginger Punch, Mast Track, Double Trouble, Ariege, Vineyard Haven, First Defence, Ventura, Champs Elysees, and Precious Kitten. 9 different Grade 1 winners, really? But that's exactly how Frankel operated - quietly and under-the-radar. No glitz and glamour. No 'everybody look at me!' Just good, honest training.

My favorite Bobby Frankel memory came back in 2004. Horse racing has always kind of fought a stereotype where the connections of horses view their horses as an investment or cash cow (or more often, a sunk cost) rather than as a living, breathing creature. Not that I ever felt that way about it, but the stereotype is always there. But then I saw Sightseek culminate her career with an easy win in the Grade I Beldame. And then I saw the grizzled New Yorker, Bobby Frankel, in the winner's circle. And he was crying. He loved this mare. He loved all of his horses. They were another family to him.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Frankel. And thank you for never apologizing for upsetting Funny Cide's Triple Crown bid.

RIP Bobby Frankel - you will be missed...