Y'see, time was the Great Depression. Folks were down 'n out. Jus' needed a chance to work to get back on their feet. Then there was this kid, see, Tobey. I mean, Red. Kid's down on his luck. Well-read and a natural with horses, the kid was left to make his own life. But nobody ever gave him a chance, see. And poor Seabiscuit was a tiny stakeshorse trained to lose. They never did give him a chance. Not 'til ol' Horse Whisperer Cooper came along and believed in him. 'Course, it wasn't until saintly Tucker came along and gave all these misfits and losers a chance that the legend of Seabiscuit was written. And in case you didn't hear me right the first, second or third, or even the tenth time I said it, I'll say it again -- it was all 'bout givin' these underdogs 'nother chance. Like FDR did with dem workin' class folk. Thas just how Tucker treated Red, like the son he lost. With dignity. Believed in him, even though he's double the size of the other horse jocks and blind in one eye and nursin' a broken leg. Still gave him 'nother chance. Just like the Horse Whisperer does with poor Seabiscuit, a fine racing specimen that one. Maybe t'wasn't as naturally gifted as that other mean thoroughbred, but it got somethin' more important: horse got plenty o' guts and got folks believin' in him. Just needed a chance was all. Like Red. And Tucker, bless his heart, gave it to 'em. Like FDR did during the Depression. Everyone just needs a second chance. Hey, I'm not repeatin' myself too much, am I?
