Back early in the year, when my daughter, Alex, called and asked if we had any young horses who had not been named yet, I truly didn’t know what to say or expect. Normally, we don’t have any youngsters who have not yet been named. Just doesn’t seem to work out that way. We rarely have a “Horse with No Name,” to either ride through a desert or any other reason, to quote a song by “America,” from my musical era.

But on this very occasion, we had two of them.

We had a big, ole’, 2-year-old gelding, whom our trainers really liked from his first days at the track and another 2-year-old colt, who was just getting his running shoes on and was just a bit behind in his regular morning exercises.

So, I asked Alex what she had in mind.

Then, she told me a story that has truly changed my life.

She told me a story that I think about every single day, and, find myself dropping my head on my desk to say a word or two in prayer.

She told me a story that broke my heart, and breaks it again, and again, and again each time I think about it. She told me a story that makes me feel incredibly stupid, selfish and disgusting, when I complain about an ache or pain that simply comes along with age that I now see in the mirror each morning.

She told me a story that also lifts my heart, at the same time, and makes me feel so incredibly blessed, and, somehow, inspired.

The story goes a little like this:

Alex told me about a friend she had met in her college days at Western Kentucky University, who grew up just a few miles down the road from our hometown of Midway and in Georgetown, KY. She told me his name is Brandon Goodwin, and that she still stays in touch with him via social media and an occasional text or call. And, she told me about Brandon’s, and his wife, Hannah’s, most amazing little son, Clay.

Clay, you see, was born about the same exact time as Alex’s oldest son, and my third of four grandsons, Mac. But unlike Mac, who climbs into my lap to help pilot the boat; or into my arms just to get a glimpse of our horses; or over other kids his same age to score yet another soccer goal, Clay was born with a heart defect that has stolen much of his life and robbed his parents of much of the fun, pride, glory that goes along with having and raising little children.

Despite surgeries, a heart transplant and the insertion of a pace maker, nothing has seemed to fix all of little Clay’s heart problems and issues. And, for nearly off of his first four years, he has spent the days and nights fighting for his life in a hospital.

Ironically enough, the only thing that has kept little Clay fighting each and every problem with determination and an amazing desire to win, live, and emerge with just a smile is a heart that you and I can’t even imagine.

His heart is his biggest failure in this life. This little boy has a pump that just refuses to get pumped up.

Yet…

His heart is his biggest winner, too. This little boy has the heart of a champion. Just when some are starting to give up, the little boy refuses to give in. This little boy has the heart of a lion.

So, when Alex asked if we had a horse with no name, and I said we do, I knew what the next question was going to be.

“Can we name a horse after little Clay, dad? I think it would mean the world to him.”

Alex did not have to ask twice.

We named one of our young horses — before we knew how good or how bad he may be — after this little boy. We named him Courageous Clay. And, we hoped — and prayed — for the best.

Little did I know then, and the more and more that I know now, this horse and his remarkable namesake mean the world to me, too.

Over the years, I have been blessed to be involved with some really good horses.

My great friend, Rob Murphy, and I bred a filly named Platinum Tiara, who ran 2nd in the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile Fillies. We also had a colt, Golden Spikes, who made it to 21 on the Kentucky Derby list, although he didn’t make the race. My great friends Corey Johnsen and Lenny Kohn and I owned a filly, Purim’s Dancer, who won the Wishing Well Stakes down the hill at Santa Anita. And, of course, my great friends, Lori and David Osborne and I bred and now run one of the winningest fillies and mares in Indiana history in Diamond Solitaire. She gets a chance to add to her record this coming Wednesday in another Stakes event.

But I must write this down. And, as I do, I have to say it out loud.

I don’t know of any horse that means as much to me as Courageous Clay. I don’t know of any horse I have ever been a part of that has become such a huge part of my life; my soul; my heart.

I don’t know of any horse I have ever known in my entire life who I root for as much; who I want to soar as much; who I want to do so well. Not just for us. Not just for him. But just for little Clay, who deserves so much more.

It’s hard to explain. It’s hard to find the right words, even for me, and I use a lot of them. It’s even hard, at times, to admit. But I want this horse — this amazing Clay — to lift little Clay Goodwin on his back and carry him to places he can’t even dream about; to heights he can’t even envision; to a world of peace and grace that only exists in Disney movies or Hallmark cards.

I want this horse to help heal Clay Goodwin.

I want this horse to help be part of Clay Goodwin’s miracle cure.

I want this horse to lift this little boy and his spirits and help allow him to walk in a world we all take for granted and he has never been able to just enjoy.

On Saturday, Courageous Clay got his third lifetime start. Hard to imagine, but his third time to the starting gate. He ran third in his debut at Ellis Park and came back to run a solid second at Ellis the next time out.

But on this Saturday, Courageous Clay got to run at the amazing Kentucky Downs, and for a maiden special weight race worth $170,000.

On this Saturday, Clay got to run in the 4th race and just before six, amazing Graded Stakes races.

On this Saturday, Clay got to run in front of some of the world’s most renown horse owners, some of whom flew helicopters in for the races. Clay got to run in front of some of the greatest trainers in the history of the sport and a multitude of horse conditioners who have already made it to the game’s Hall of Fame. And, Clay got to rub shoulders with some of the best riders to ever throw a leg over a horse’s back.

On this Saturday, Clay was going to be heavily bet on, and, as things turned out, he was going to be  the overwhelming post time favorite.

On this Saturday, Clay was going to run in front of my best buddy, Rob Murphy, and his wife, Michelle. People I admire and love.

Clay was going to run in front of my daughter, Alex, and her family of husband, Evan, and sons Mac and Teddy, for the first time ever.

Clay was going to run in front of Alex’s mother-in-law and farther-in-law, too, Emily and Tom Sharp.

If that was not enough, Clay was going to run in front of my greatest friends, Jay Ingle and Mike Ziegler; and people I admire so very much in Coolmore’s Charlie O’Conner and Churchill Downs’ Alec Rankin.

And, Clay was going to run for partners, Tim and Carla Moman; Brad Rateike and his wife, Lawren Mills; Dave and Melissa Ball; Paul Moring; Nick D’Andrea; Megan Flynn; John Pritchett; Cyndi Smith and her brother, Christopher Smith; Dave Brown; and Bubba Rodgers. Clay was going to run for former trainer and one of my “sons,” in Stephen Lyster and his breeder, my great friend R. Warren Lyster. Clay was going to run for his trainer, Robbie Medina, who I truly think is the best young trainer in the game today, and his assistant, Katey Caddel.

Most of all, after two solid races, I kinda knew and I hoped more than hope itself, that Clay was going to run for Clay.

When I got up on this Saturday morning, I told my lovely wife, Leigh Ann, I had never been this nervous before a horse race in my entire life. She asked why. As I fought back tears, I just shrugged. Couldn’t muster a sentence.

When I got to the track, I could hardly eat, and if you know me, that’s something I do very well. When  a friend asked if I was OK, I just shrugged. Couldn’t muster a word.

When I got to the paddock, I told Clay’s affable and talented trainer, that this may be the biggest race of my life. He looked at me as if I was crazy, and I admit to that ailment often. Couldn’t find anything else to say.

When I told our rider, Tyler Gaffalione, the story of how the horse came about his name, both the jockey and I had tears mounting. Tyler said he would ride as hard as he could for both the horse and the boy. I nodded. Words couldn’t fight through the mass of emotion that clogged my throat. A pat on the back had to do as a final statement.

When I made it to the fence to lean up and over and watch our horse, grandson Mac pulled at my arm. He asked for me to hold him high so he could see. I leaned over and hoisted Mac high in my arms so he could watch. At that very moment, I wished that dad Brandon or mom Hannah could do the same with their littlest son. I prayed that somehow, some way that some day it would happen.

And, when I saw Courageous Clay and Tyler storming down the stretch, trying with every muscle and every vein in their bodies, to get by the leader on the rail, a horse we had easily beaten just a start ago, I wanted to yell; I tried to yell; but, for some reason, the words just wouldn’t come.

All I could muster was “Clay.”

“Clay. Clay. Clay. Come on Clay.”

With every single stride, I thought our boy and our guide were going right on by to win for the Goodwin’s boy.

With every single grunt and thud, whistle and smooch, I just knew we were going to go by. I just knew we were going to win. I just knew it.

But when the wire came, we were a length behind and second. Again. Not a winner. Second.

The air seemed to go out as fast as the air of a balloon in a cactus patch. I dropped my head over on the fence. I wanted to cry. I started to cry.

Until I felt the arm of my most beautiful daughter wrap around my back.

“It is alright dad. It’s alright.

“Clay ran his heart out.

“Just like little Clay does every day.”

As I looked up, I saw that Tyler was off Clay and walking our horse back to the paddock. My gut met my throat and I just started to run. Out the shoot. Onto the track. All the way down the track to the horse and rider. Right along side assistant trainer, Katey Caddel.

“Is he OK, Tyler. Is he OK,” I yelped.

“Oh yeah, he’s fine. He just dumped me. Something spooked him and he dropped me,” Tyler said with a smile and a laugh.

Tyler and Katey could see the relief on my face. Immediately.

“He will get that win soon,” Tyler said, trying to ease my concerns. “That little boy will get his win soon.”

As I walked back to meet my friends and Robbie, I finally sighed. Clay, the horse, seemed to sigh, too. I looked him right in the eye and I reached up to tap him on his sweaty neck. And, just for a second, it seemed as if the horse talked straight to my heart.

Sometimes a win means you finish first.

Sometimes a win means you finish the race.

Sometimes a win means you just run the race.

And, sometimes — sometimes — a win means you run the race of a lifetime with family and friends by your side, all rooting and cheering and wishing the best. Together. Holding onto each other. Holding onto dreams. Holding onto hope. Holding onto the wish that Clay will get better; get well; get a life we take for granted.

On Saturday, little Clay, the boy, got to run his race again with his family. Who love him more than life itself, and would give their everything in their life to make their son’s day an inch better. A lot of little boys never have that kind of love. A lot of little boys never have that kind of family.

On Saturday, our Clay, the horse, got to run his race again with his family of supporters, all rooting and giving their best to help him carry his speed to the wire. A lot of horses never get up for 2nd in such a thrilling race. A lot of horse owners never get to share with their family the thrill of that stretch.

And, then I knew why I own a racehorse. Again.

Clay, the horse, had just connected us all — our family — in a way that Clay, the boy, connects his family. At the heart. At the core. At the soul.

And, no matter how you cut it, that, my friends is a win, no matter how you cut it.

Clay has changed my life.