BELMONT PARK, NY, JUNE 9, 1973 — Five huge horses, shaking, shuddering, twisting their necks, jostle into the starting gate. Seconds later, with hooves pounding, they break out and bolt for the lead. All are thoroughbreds, muscular, fleet as the wind. But one horse is already a celebrity.

1973 had been a rough year. Vietnam ended with a whimper. Watergate was festering, the president’s men subpoenaed under clouds of criminality. NASA’s moon landings were done, and few had watched the saga end. The country needed a lift, and along came Secretariat.

"To us, he was Big Red,” a trainer said, “and he had a personality. He was a clown and was always cutting up, always into some devilment." But even in a world of fine breeding, where the best horses have “the look of eagles,” Secretariat was unlike any horse anyone had ever seen.

"You want to know who Secretariat is in human terms?” a breeder asked. “Just imagine the greatest athlete in the world. The greatest. Now make him six-foot-three, the perfect height. Make him real intelligent and kind. And on top of that, make him the best-lookin' guy ever to come down the pike. He was all those things as a horse.”

After an initial loss, Secretariat won all his races as a two-year-old. Coming into his prime, already named “The Horse of the Year,” he was favored to sweep the pack. “The only chance we have,” one jockey said, “is if he falls down.” But Secretariat had a flaw. He was skittish at the start. Bumped badly in that first race, he finished fourth. From then on, he came out slowly, often trailing the pack. Then the after burners kicked in.

At the Derby a month before, Secretariat stayed in the pack until the last turn. Then . . “There was this, like, just a disruption in the corner of your eye, in your peripheral vision. And then before you could make out what it was, here Secretariat came.”

Hitting his 25-foot stride, Secretariat blew by the pack, winning by two lengths, setting a track record. Derby veterans were stunned. “No one had ever seen anything run like that. It was like he was some other animal out there.”

Two weeks later, Secretariat did the same at the Preakness, running last, then jetting past the rest to win by three lengths. Another track record. In his closing quarter-mile, he was clocked at 41 mph.

Though horse racing is “the sport of kings,” winners rarely capture the public imagination. But there had been no Triple Crown winner for a quarter century Horse after horse — Tim Tam, Northern Dancer, Majestic Prince — had won the Derby and Preakness only to tire in the longer Belmont. Needing a hero, hope, a win for a change, America turned to Secretariat.

As the Belmont approached, Secretariat made the cover of TIME, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated. Co-owner Peggy Tweedy spoke on talk shows. Dozens of reporters gathered outside Barn 5 at Belmont Park. A record TV audience was expected.

With only five horses in the running, Secretariat had no pack to trail. Bursting out of the gate, he took the lead, neck and neck with his Derby and Preakness rival, Sham. Around the turn, into the back stretch, the two horses dueled far ahead of the rest.

“It’s almost a match race now,” the announcer said.

At the mile, the clock showed a record pace. “He’s going too damn fast,” the Racing Form columnist shouted. A trainer agreed. “He can’t stand up to this.” Secretariat’s sire, Bold Prince, had done the same in the Belmont, streaking, then fading to finish fourth. Trainers watched for signs of fatigue — shorter strides, ears laid back. There were none.

Then came the back stretch.

Veteran jockeys, seeking the soul of a thoroughbred, speak of “asking the question.” Thundering around the final turn, they somehow signal the half-ton animal beneath them. This is it. Do you have in you? Big Red had an answer.

On the far turn, Secretariat shifted into overdrive. He opened a five length lead, seven, ten. The announcer could barely contain his awe.

“Secretariat is widening now. He is moving like a tremendous machine. Secretariat by twelve, Secretariat by 13 lengths on the turn. . . Sham is dropping back. . . Secretariat is all alone. . . “

In a sport where records are set by quarter-seconds, where races are won by a length or two, Secretariat won the Belmont by 31 lengths and shaved three seconds off the track record. But here’s why Secretariat still stands alone.

In 1973, the fastest human mile was 3:51. Broken again and again, the record has since been cut by eight seconds. The pole vault mark has soared by two feet. But after fifty years, Secretariat’s records in all three Triple Crown races still stand. No horse has even come close.

Today, 263 streets across America are named for Secretariat. A dozen biographies, a Disney movie, countless articles, statues, and other tributes continue to pour forth.

“Beyond the track and world records and the impossible margins of victory,” Sports Illustrated wrote, “he left behind a feeling among those who saw him that they had witnessed a natural phenomenon. He had style, and when he was himself, he made it almost art.”

But one of the 50 million who watched the Belmont that day said it better. “Secretariat,” she said, “restored my faith in humanity.”

SECRETARIAT IS ALL ALONE!