She wasn't just fast. Go for Wand was violent about it. When most Thoroughbreds hit the top of the stretch, they look for a cue from the jockey or a bit of encouragement to dig deep, but this filly was different. She didn't wait. Honestly, she looked like she wanted to run right through the rail just to prove she could.
If you weren't at Belmont Park in late 1990, it's hard to describe the atmosphere. We talk about horse racing icons like Secretariat or Ruffian, but the Go for Wand horse belongs in that same rarified air, even if her story ended in one of the most traumatic moments in televised sports history. She was the 1989 Two-Year-Old Filly of the Year. She was a powerhouse.
People who saw her run often mention the sound. Most horses have a rhythmic gallop, but Go for Wand hit the dirt with a thudding, aggressive cadence. Christened a "Bay Bullet" by some, she won seven Grade 1 races in a career that barely lasted two years. That’s insane. Think about the durability required for that. Or rather, the sheer brilliance needed to burn that bright, that fast.
The Making of a Champion
Go for Wand was born in 1987 at Jane du Pont Lunger’s Christiana Stables. She was a daughter of Deputy Minister, a stallion known for producing rugged, high-caliber athletes. But even with that pedigree, nobody quite expected her to be this dominant. She broke her maiden at Belmont by four lengths. Most fans just shrugged—it was a good debut. Then she won an allowance race by 18 and a half lengths.
That’s when the "wait, what?" factor kicked in for the racing world.
She wasn't just winning; she was demoralizing the field. Randy Romero, the Hall of Fame jockey who rode her, often said she had a gear that felt different from any other horse he’d ever sat on. By the time the 1989 Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies rolled around, she wasn't just a participant; she was the inevitable winner. She took that race by nearly three lengths, cementing her status as the best of her generation.
The 1990 season was supposed to be her coronation. She won the Beaumont, the Mother Goose, the Coaching Club American Oaks, and the Alabama Stakes. It was a massacre. She was beating the best fillies in the country like they were morning work horses. The Go for Wand horse was becoming a household name, even for people who didn't follow the Daily Racing Form.
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That Afternoon at Belmont
October 27, 1990. The Breeders' Cup Distaff.
If you ask any old-timer at the track about this day, they usually get quiet. It was the showdown everyone wanted: Go for Wand against the older champion Bayakoa. It was a clash of titans, plain and simple. Two generational talents meeting at the peak of their powers.
They hooked up early. From the backstretch into the far turn, it was a two-horse race. The rest of the field might as well have been in another zip code. Head and head. Eye to eye. Neither would give an inch. Romero was scrubbing on Go for Wand; Laffit Pincay Jr. was asking Bayakoa for everything.
Entering the stretch, Go for Wand stuck her nose in front. She was winning. She was going to be the undisputed queen of the turf.
Then the world stopped.
About a sixteenth of a mile from the finish line, Go for Wand’s right front ankle simply gave way. She went down, throwing Romero to the dirt. In a display of heart that remains difficult to watch even decades later, she tried to get up and continue running on three legs. The track sirens started wailing. The crowd of over 50,000 went from a deafening roar to a haunting, dead silence in about three seconds.
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It was a catastrophic fracture. There was no surgery that could fix it, not back then and honestly probably not even now. She had to be euthanized on the track, shielded from the cameras by a green screen.
Why We Still Talk About Her
Usually, when a horse dies like that, the memory is just "the horse that broke down." But Go for Wand is different. We remember her because of the sheer quality she displayed before that final stride. She didn't just participate in the sport; she dictated it.
The New York Racing Association eventually renamed the Maskette Stakes after her. The Go for Wand Handicap is now a staple of the New York circuit. It’s a Grade 3 race, but for those who know the history, it’s a tribute to a horse that was perhaps too fast for her own skeleton.
There's a lot of debate in horse racing about "breeding for speed" versus "breeding for stamina." Some critics point to Go for Wand as an example of a horse whose engine was too powerful for the chassis. It's a fair point. When you have a horse that refuses to quit, who will run until something literally snaps, you’re dealing with a level of competitive drive that is both beautiful and terrifying.
- She won 10 of her 13 starts.
- She earned over $1.3 million when that meant a lot more than it does today.
- She was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1996.
Lessons from a Short, Brilliant Life
Honestly, what the Go for Wand horse taught the industry was a hard lesson in fragility. Since 1990, track safety and veterinary screening have changed immensely. We have pre-race exams now that are significantly more rigorous. Do they catch everything? No. But the outcry after her death—and the death of others like her—forced the hand of regulators.
Watching her old race replays is a masterclass in Thoroughbred efficiency. She had a long, low stride that ate up ground. She didn't bounce; she glided. If you’re a student of the sport, look at her win in the 1990 Alabama Stakes at Saratoga. She won by seven lengths under a hand ride. It was pure, unadulterated dominance.
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She’s buried in the infield at Saratoga Race Course. It’s a place of honor. Fans still go there to leave flowers or just stand for a second. Saratoga is a place of ghosts, and she is one of the most prominent.
How to Honor Her Legacy Today
If you really want to understand the impact of Go for Wand, you can't just look at a spreadsheet of her wins. You have to understand the emotional toll her loss took on the people around her. Her trainer, Billy Badgett, and her owner, Jane Lunger, were devastated. It wasn't just about the money or the trophies; it was about the loss of a rare creature that seemed to possess a human-like will to win.
To truly appreciate what she was, consider these steps:
Watch the 1990 Alabama Stakes. Skip the Breeders' Cup footage if you don't want the heartbreak. Watch the Alabama. It shows her at her absolute zenith, pulling away from the field with a grace that few horses have ever matched.
Support Thoroughbred Aftercare. The best way to honor horses like Go for Wand is to ensure that those who aren't quite as fast—or those who survive their racing careers—have a place to go. Organizations like the Thoroughbred Aftercare Alliance (TAA) or Old Friends Farm do the work that prevents tragedies and gives retired athletes a dignified life.
Study her pedigree. If you're into the "business" of horses, look at how Deputy Minister's line influenced modern racing. You'll see her relatives in the pedigrees of many champions today. Her bloodline, through her relatives, continues to bring that same fire to the track.
Visit Saratoga. If you’re ever in Upstate New York during the summer meet, take a moment to look toward the infield. She’s there. It’s a reminder that greatness is often fleeting, but it leaves a mark that doesn't wash away with the next rainstorm.
Horse racing is a sport of highs and lows. The Go for Wand horse represents the absolute extreme of both. She was the best we had, and she was gone in a heartbeat. But as long as people are still talking about her, she’s still leading the pack.