I saw the whole thing. The bright silks fluttering through the air before Luis hit the manicured dirt. That bay colt somersaulting inches over the track, breaking through the humid Houston air. I knew it was over for the racehorse even before he came to a hault a hundred yards from where he tripped. I watch him try to get up. I watch him try to breathe, but he is the only one present who doesn't know he never will. Luis glances over at his mount, who is now laying virtually still. The horse picks up his head one last time and looks at Luis, I see him mutter something to the horse. Good-bye? The bay colt relaxes and lets his delicate, brideled head meet the dirt he has galloped over many times in his short career. They both close their eyes. A black privacy curtain is drawn brtween us and the victom. Luis leaves on a stretcher. The horse is not that lucky.