Bob Baffert is flat on his back and hears those around him saying he has the "widow maker," like he doesn't already know his chest is killing him.
He's in Dubai this past March. He's 59 and figures he's doomed.
"It was like, 'oh man, this is it.' I'm just waiting for them to turn out the lights," he says. Because he makes his living training horses, in his business people expect the worst and hope for the best.
He gives his wife, Jill, a verbal last will and testament, telling her to "keep this, sell that and here's what you need to do when I'm gone."
Then he grows angry, reminding himself how far he has come and telling himself, "so now this is how it's going to end?"