Seabiscuit, Mister Tumnus and the War Admiral
On November 1st 1938, five year old Seabiscuit, a knock-kneed over-achieving five year old stallion from California, walked toward the start line at Pimlico alongside War Admiral, a coal-black stallion of royal lineage and incredible power. 40,000 people packed the stands to watch the race and another 40 million, roughly 1 in every 3 Americans, hung on the radio broadcast. It was the height of the Depression and a desperate America longed for a winner it could identify with, an underdog who had traveled the hard roads and knew the bum luck of the common man. At Pimlico, that underdog was Seabiscuit.
But the style of race favored War Admiral – fast starters usually won head-to-head match-races – and oddsmakers had War Admiral as a 1-4 favorite to win. The four year old stallion was a powerful force out of the gate who destroyed his challengers. Son of the great Man O’ War, War Admiral was a Triple Crown champion and Horse of the Year in 1937. But this was not 1937. On that November day at Pimlico, in one of the most anticipated events in American sporting history, Seabiscuit blew the doors off War Admiral.
Fast-forward to the American Idol stage. You had to imagine that when Chris Daughtry, the odds-on favorite to win it all, found himself standing beside Katharine McPhee he must have thought himself safe. Ms. McPheever sung wretchedly on Elvis night and had previously spent time among the bottom vote-getters. Chris had a rabid fan base, a rich, evocative voice, and was a good looking dude. He’d only spent one night among the bottom three and had certainly done nothing calamitous to get himself booted. Surely this was the night that Katharine was heading home.
And then the hammer fell. “Chris Daughtry is leaving the show.”
Shellshocked, Chris watched his “American Idol journey” on the theater big screen, never once cracking a smile. He sang Suspicious Minds to a stunned audience as the credits rolled and then, as he made his way toward the remaining contestants, Fox went to a commercial and ninja-poof that was it. Chris was gone.
Of course the first thing that crossed my mind was, “Well, there goes my shot at the True North AI pool. Daddy’s not getting a new pair of shoes today.”
But I digress.
So check this out: Kat lives to sing another night. Taylor Sweet Sweet Lovin’ survived to prance, thrash, gyrate and mug his way through another Tuesday evening. And who is that coming up on the inside rail from the middle of the pack, bobbing and weaving and staggering toward the front as we round into the homestretch…it’s…Mister Tumnus! Elliott Yamin, bad grill in place and against all odds, put the smack-down on the consensus favorite tonight and, in doing so, may have positioned himself as the unexpected favorite in a race suddenly without its dominant horse.
So tell me what you think. Were you shocked by Chris’ sudden departure? Do you think it should have been Katharine? Do you think Mister Tumnus has a snowball’s chance in Narnia to win the whole shebang? Will Taylor drool onto an exposed wire and electrocute himself? Will we even notice the difference? Leave a comment and speak your mind!
