About the time Rory McIlroy sank his final putt to win the Open Championship and become the planet’s second happiest man, I was preoccupied as the first.
Since days drag but years fly, I opted to spend Rory’s back nine driving to rural northern Colorado to say goodbye to Piggy Church, a four-year-old Thoroughbred gelding I bred from my mare Novel back when I had more money and optimism than a rich first-timer running for public office.
I am spiritual man but not specifically religious. While life has changed my outlook has not: Our lives are not judged by our accomplishments as much as the impact we have on others.
I met such a woman today — one whose kindness and love for a horse in need of a home has touched me in a way I will never forget nor be able to repay. Her name is Corey Kaye.
Corey Kaye with Piggy Church
20 July 2014
Piggy is a son of Pioneering (by the legendary Mr. Prospector) out of a mare by esteemed stallion Notebook. I named Piggy after a hot shot surfing character in one of my books. Piggy the horse is a retired runner, bred from regal stock. It was nearly a year after I picked his dad that Piggy entered the earth on his own under a starlit winter night. He has grown from that wobbly, long-legged sprout into an regal young man. He is happy and where he belongs.
Like most Thoroughbreds conceived to race, things did not work out as planned. Piggy’s approach to learning differed from the teaching methods of his old hard boot trainer and theirs was a tempestuous and unfulfilled relationship.
At two Piggy was young and immature, thin as a fish, with a long body he would need time to grow into. Early in his training life he showed flashes of speed and the long, fluid, dirt-galloping stride of promise. There was reason for hopes, dreams, and a wagon full of optimism.
But fairy tales in racing come true for few and Piggy’s luck was always bad, never good. He got hurt at two and again at three. The trainer gave up on him and, reluctantly, so did I. I had no choice but to retire him from racing. Worse, I had no success finding him a home. His value, it seemed, was only as a revenue generator. Racing trainers fill and empty stalls as part of doing business. Piggy’s days seemed dark and numbered.
Corey saw things differently. She adopted him and trailered him home — some 80 miles away– where she nursed him back to health. She did so knowing it would be at least a year before Piggy would be able to tote even a casual rider.
Corey looked beyond Piggy’s injuries. In an anonymous rural barn she nursed him, calmed him down and back to health, developed trust, and let him grow into his elegant frame. Today he roams a pasture with three mares and thinks he’s the boss, but only because one of the mares lets him believe it.
A week ago Corey sent me a note that her husband, Andrew Miller, accepted a new job and in three weeks they would be moving to Rochester, Minnesota. She invited me to drive up and see “Piglet,” as she calls him, and say goodbye. I drove those 80 miles not knowing what to expect or how I would feel when I arrived.
The moment I walked into the barn and saw him — bathed and brushed and shining in the summer sun like an exquisite piece of fine teak furniture — I knew that Corey has not just saved this horse. She has given him a life in the winner’s circle. Piggy is happy, fit, and a miracle of all that’s good about horse people whose lives are shaped by giving, not taking.
Goodbye for now, Piggy.
I will always love you too.
I make no apology for crying when I said goodbye to Piggy nor do I make one for crying as I type these words. Celebratory tears I need more of in life, not less.
My life is highlighted by these moments, these crisscrossing intersections with kind and caring people who do what is right because that is who they are and not someone they pretend to be.
As Rory McIlroy knows better today than yesterday, everyone loves a champion. But trophies tarnish and sporting memories fade and there is a difference between being champion for a day and a champion of living and life.
Years from now Rory will remember this Open Championship as a day he did his job well and achieved something he worked hard to earn. While he is doing that, I will be thinking of something far more important: I will remember today as a journey into the soul of the essence of life.
My hero saved a horse because she wanted to. She has loved that horse to health and happiness, and provides a wonderful life. Corey and Andrew have done it together, in the bitter cold of winter and storming hail storms and baking heat of summer. No crowd, no adulation, no cicada clicks of a phalanx of photographers. No prize money or trophy presentation. Corey and Andrew spend take home pay to blossom their own little miracles, the ones that matter most.
Corey Kaye didn’t just change Piggy’s life. She’s changed mine. And there is not a trophy in the world I would ever trade it for.