Do You Feel Like You’re a Sham?

No, no, I don’t mean like a fraud nor like a frilly pillow covering. I mean do you feel like Sham, the horse widely considered to be the second greatest ever to run the Triple Crown, even though his results, two second places and one last, are none too stellar?

Never heard of Sham? I’m not surprised, because Sham ran the Triple Crown in 1973. That was the golden year, the year of the undisputed king of the Triple Crown: Secretariat.

On the morning of May 5, 1973, the course record at Churchill Downs stood at two minutes even. Although seriously injured at the start (losing two teeth), Sham crossed the line at 1:59.8.* But Sham did not break the world record, because 2 1/2 lengths ahead of him Secretariat had already done that, resetting the record to a still unbeaten 1:59.4.

At the Preakness Sham again ran second, again 2 1/2 lengths behind Secretariat, who again broke the course record.

Finally, at the Belmont Stakes Sham ran neck and neck with Secretariat through half the race, but Sham tired and eventually finished last. Secretariat set another still-standing record, leading the field by 31 lengths.

Why do I bring this up? Because it should be clear that Sham would have been a Triple Crown winner had he run in any year other than 1973, in any other than Secretariat’s year.

I often feel that I am (at most) only second best, my talents overshadowed like Sham’s next to the incomparable Secretariat.

• like Bean next to Ender Wiggin?
• like Alfred Wallace next to Charles Darwin?
• like Napoleon Bonaparte next to Arthur Wellesley?
• like Righteous Job next to the Whirlwind?
• like a Supreme next to Diana Ross?
• like Patroclus next to Achilles?
• like any soldier, anywhere, next to a Gurkha?

When I’m feeling more than usually Sham-like, rather than choking down the standard pap that I’m simply the best at being me (that and $3.95 buys me a cup of coffee), I think: What right do I have to criticize my meager talents? Can the pot tell the potter he has no hands? Instead, I accept the situation, learn from those better than I, rejoice in my gifts and in my time. Here I have the opportunity of a better to set as a rival but maybe also as a mentor, a path finder to take me to an even better best: To climb onto and then stand on the shoulders of giants.

Better: Were I Sham (an unusually introspective Sham, to be sure, especially for any three-year old, equine or human), would I simply revel in sharing the turf with the best who ever ran? To run neck and neck with Secretariat, even for only half a race, is worth a world of oats. Or to misquote Kipling (who, I am sure, would sympathize):

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

to serve your turn long after they are gone,

and so hold on when there is nothing in you

except the will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

. . . .

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

and—which is more—you’ll be a Horse, my son!

* Officially, Sham’s time is unknown because timing was pretty inaccurate back then, but if you do the math, it’s pretty clear he ran under 2 minutes that day.