This month I was going to write about tariffs. But then a young man tragically died.
I was going to write about how, as an industry, we’ve survived the racing shutdowns of the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as competition from casinos and legal sports betting, and how proposed tariffs weren’t going to stop us or even slow us down at this point. But then a wonderful young horseman tragically died from injuries sustained in a terrible racing accident.
I was going to write about how there’s no international borders in harness racing; how Canadians, Americans, Swedes, Aussies, Kiwis and horsepeople from many other countries live and race together in harmony - for the most part - due to our common love of the animal and our competitive nature. But then an incredible young father and fiancé died.
So this month I’m writing about Hunter Myers - the up-and-coming young reinsman who mostly plied his trade at The Meadows and Northfield Park, and who the racing industry has been mourning worldwide ever since that accident took place in the 11th race at The Meadows on March 19th.
When the news first broke on that Wednesday evening, I, like most of you, was devastated. I never had the pleasure of meeting Hunter, but the more I read about him on Facebook, and saw the pictures that were being shared, the more it became quite obvious that he was an extremely beloved member of our harness racing family.
It was the next day however, when I viewed a video produced by Meadows’ photographer Chris Gooden, that it hit home for me. That’s when I realized why the loss of this young man I didn’t even know was totally consuming me.
Paired with the heart-gripping Green Day ballad, Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life), the video brought Hunter’s true personality to the forefront. Sticking his tongue out at the video camera, dancing, laughing, hamming it up, flicking his whip at the lens, and so on, the real Hunter Myers shone through - and that’s when it hit me: I’ve spent a lifetime in this business, and have made many wonderful lifelong friendships with people just like Hunter Myers. Fun, light-hearted, good, solid people, who would give you the shirt off of their back if you needed it.
I played beer league hockey on all-horseman teams for 30+ years, and trust me when I tell you that the locker room of a horseman’s hockey team is one of the most enjoyable places on earth to be. And our locker room was always a place where I’m certain Hunter Myers would have fit-in perfectly… because it was full of guys just like him. Great guys.
Our industry is full of people who will ‘bust your balls’ a little here-and-there, take it as well as they give it, battle you tooth-and-nail on the track, and then help clean your stalls the next morning because you had to take your sick child to the doctor.
Horses are the greatest thing about our sport, but the people are a close second. And not only was Hunter Myers one of us - he was clearly an example of the best of us.
By all accounts he was a happy-go-lucky, kind and funny human being; a wonderful father, son, brother, fiancé and friend - and a talented driver.
When Hunter Myers passed, we all lost something, because he was the kind of person we in this business all know. And he was the kind that made our sport better - on many levels.
I’m not sure that I’ve ever shed tears for a stranger before, but I’m not shy to say that I’ve done so for Hunter - and for his family, including his fiancé Chloe and their son, Hayden.
As it turns out though, it seems that Hunter wasn’t really a stranger to me after all - through those friends of mine in our game that are similar, I feel like part of me knew him for years.
The night after Hunter passed, with nothing else but him on our minds, my son and I decided to go out to eat. Our young waiter, a man in his late-twenties, greeted us, and after reading his name-tag I said “How are you tonight Rod?”
He replied, “You can call me Hot-Rod, and I’m doing great, thanks. I have a job, I’m six feet above ground, and I have some food in my fridge at home. I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy, and I’m working on filling that glass even more. I’m very lucky.”
It was an incredible moment for me. I practically felt chills. To be honest, it was kind of like Hot-Rod was passing a message along to me from Hunter.
Translated, to me, it clearly meant, “I hope you’re having the time of your life.”
And that’s something, in the memory of Hunter and others we’ve lost, we should all be doing.
Rest In Peace Hunter.
Dan Fisher [email protected]