Saying My Thoroughbred Looks Like A Warmblood Is Not A Compliment
My horse was cooled out, munching hay in his stall while I was in the nearby field hitching up the horse trailer. We’d just wrapped up a solid test in the dressage ring, and before knowing our results, I was packing up for the long drive home from the horse show.
A few strangers stopped when they saw me in the field.
“Are you the one who just rode that big chestnut?” they asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”
They wanted to know what breed my horse was. He’s a Thoroughbred, I confirmed. They smiled as they lit up in surprise. “He could pass as a warmblood,” they told me, expecting me to thank them for the compliment. And for a long time, I always would.
I would beam any time a stranger, trainer, or judge would align my beefy off-track gelding with a warmblood breed. It likened my horse, which I bought cheaply after he flunked out of his first intended job, to one with breeding that most others in our chosen sport consider premier and elite.
But the longer I owned him, the more I began to sour at this kind of compliment. I should be proud of the horse he is – a Thoroughbred – not that he can pass as something else.
I love my gelding. I chose him because of his athletic build and quirky nature. At 16.3 hands, he is a large horse, with big, floaty gaits and a natural carriage. He is just a good looking horse. Couple that with a little bit of training over the years and he does pretty well for himself in the show ring, especially in the lower levels of dressage. He’s also a fine representation of the athleticism of his breed.
His “above average” abilities does not make him any less of a Thoroughbred. This horse was sold at auction at the famous Keeneland venue in Kentucky. He breezed on the tracks in Ocala. He just wasn’t any good at going fast.
Thoroughbreds were the chosen mounts of show jumpers, eventers, and even the hunters, for years and years. They fell out of style, however, as bulkier, fancier European “imports” became more commonplace. The style and preference, even among amateur hobbyists, followed this trend. Thoroughbreds, so many of them in need of homes after their racing careers end or never even begin, are all too often lumped into the category of a poor man’s option these days.
People say they have bad feet, come with emotional baggage from their time on the track, or they’re too hot. But my Thoroughbred has none of those rumored attributes. And like all horses, most of the Thoroughbreds I’ve had the privilege to know are all quite different from one another, in build and talent and personality.
I’ve owned both Thoroughbreds and warmblood breeds over the years. I loved them all for different reasons. But there’s something about the scrappy, underdog nature of a good Thoroughbred that’s always worth rooting for – at the highest levels like the Kentucky Three-Day Event or the Olympic Games, to the lower levels at my local backyard horse show.
That day, I loaded my Thoroughbred into the trailer and collected my blue ribbon for our 72% score on our dressage test. It felt pretty darn good to be the rider on the fancy Thoroughbred who won the class.