America At Large: Three weeks ago they wouldn't have known Barbaro from Mister Ed, and now they're sending him flowers. And fruit. And sugar cubes. And get-well cards.

From total strangers.

The profusion of deliveries to the George Widener Hospital for Large Animals confirms that Americans have thoroughly embraced the horse who has become the world's most famous equine convalescent.

Millions were watching on television on Saturday afternoon when the Kentucky Derby-winning colt shattered his right hind leg just a few steps out of the starting gate, and anyone who didn't view the Preakness Stakes has been subjected to countless video clips of the horrifying accident on every station in the country.

Barbaro isn't out of the woods by a long shot, yet, but each day of survival increases the possibility that the three-year-old colt might live to see four. The questions remain: What if Barbaro hadn't been the Kentucky Derby champion? What if he had been, say, a gelding? Race horses break down all the time. It is unfortunate, but endemic to the sport. Every day of the year, on average, at some American track, a thoroughbred is euthanised after suffering an injury similar to Barbaro's.

If he'd been a plugger at the Marshfield Fair instead of a Triple Crown winner-in-waiting running at Pimlico, Barbaro wouldn't likely have survived long enough for the rest of the field to pass by him on their second trip past the grandstand.

This harsh reality generally escapes the casual racing fan, who would prefer not to entertain such thoughts. As a consequence, the present outpouring of sympathy is viewed with some trepidation by the racing industry, which would just as soon the public at large did not realise that this sort of thing is a commonplace occurrence in the Sport of Kings.

The issue in this case was complicated somewhat by the fact that just as the Preakness field had been loaded into the starting gate, Barbaro broke through, overcoming by sheer force the massive electronically-controlled magnetic field used to keep the gate locked until the horses are sprung.

On another day, in another race, he might have been allotted a decent interval to recover, but millions of dollars in television revenues dictated that he be reloaded as quickly as possible. No more than a minute elapsed between the gate-crashing episode and the Preakness start. Steps out of the gate, Barbaro's leg snapped. Jockey Edgar Prado did a masterful job, quickly easing the colt to a halt and jumping off to comfort him. Trainer Mike Matz leapt out of his seat near the finish line and raced to the stricken horse.

The rest of the field continued to race, even as anguished shrieks and wails permeated the air. The Preakness was won by Sheikh Mohammad's Bernardini, whose destiny is likely to be that of a footnote to history. Barbaro had broken the leg in at least 20 places, fracturing his cannon bone, pastern, and fetlock. Given the expense involved and the fact that surgery offers no better than a 50 per cent chance of survival, most racehorses would have been put down on the spot.

Instead he was whisked away by ambulance and underwent surgery the following afternoon. Good for him. Maybe bad for racing, since each time the public is reminded of how fortunate Barbaro is to have survived suggests that a less celebrated horse would have been turned into dog food by now. In addition to the cock-up attending the start, there will also be the usual questions about the propriety of subjecting immature three-year-olds to the demanding Triple Crown schedule of three hard races in the space of five weeks.

In Barbaro's case this is particularly significant. The Derby, on May 6th, had been his sixth career race. He had won all six starts (and $2.3 million in the process), but the five weeks between the Florida and Kentucky Derbies represented the shortest interval between races. Asking him to come back on two weeks' rest could well have contributed to the injury.

Ironically, should Barbaro survive, he could well turn out to be more valuable than might have been in the absence of the mishap.

Given the unlikelihood of his actually winning the American Triple Crown (and no horse has done it in 28 years), he could now be remembered as the horse who but for cruel fate would have won it.

No one is certain just how much owners Roy and Gretchen Jackson had Barbaro insured for, but the best guess is that as the Derby winner he was already worth as much as $25 million. (A win in Baltimore last Saturday might have pushed that to $40 million.) With numbers like that, no wonder he's getting the best medical care money can buy.

Rehabilitating a horse after an injury like Barbaro's is at best a crapshoot. There is an obvious threat of complications, including infection. There is also the chance that, given the temperament of a thoroughbred, he might try to run on the injured leg, or worse, injure himself by trying to dispose of the cast by kicking away at the side of his stall. And attempting to sedate a horse for protracted periods is a process fraught with its own perils.

The fact that Barbaro's injured leg is held together by 23 screws could also present its own problems. It is not inconceivable that it could affect his performance as a stallion. Even if he survives, there is no guarantee that his hind legs would be able support him when it comes to assuming what is, for horses, the missionary position.

The don't call it "standing at stud" for nothing.