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That night Pollard retired for the first time. Over a bottle of Scotch, instead of his favorite "bowwow wine" (brandy), he told Alexander just how he felt when that red board went up. "I felt just fine. I thought, if those dudes call me up in the stand and ask me questions, I'll sass 'em. This is one time I can get away with sassing 'em. There are 80,000 people here, and they all love me and Pops. If those dudes take our number down, the crowd will burn the stand — with those dudes in it." Pollard sipped his drink and looked off into space. "You know," he said, "not a single one of those 80,000 people was making a sound . . ." Continues Alexander: "I thought about it, and he was right. The real drama hadn't been the 121 1/5 seconds it had taken Seabiscuit to run the mile and a quarter.
The drama had been the 120 seconds that a crippled boy sat on a crippled horse waiting for three men to decide whether he was, temporarily, the most famous figure in sports, or just another jock who'd ridden foul. When 80,000 people are cheering, it's just a great big noise. When 80,000 people are completely silent, it's damned impressive."