Courage is a concept often explored within the realm of sports, serving as a narrative device to imbue games with profound significance. It’s undeniable that standing at the free-throw line with a game on the line, engaging in high-speed collisions on a football field, or pushing through the grueling final miles of a marathon requires immense bravery. This is a courage that seeks victory, joy, and celebration – a courage born from choice. However, life beyond sports frequently demands a different, perhaps even more profound, form of courage.
For several weeks during the late summer and early autumn of 2013, I had the privilege of reporting on and writing about Jeff Lukas, a former thoroughbred horse trainer. Lukas passed away on Wednesday morning in Oklahoma from an apparent heart attack at the age of 58. While his story is being shared across various social media platforms today, it’s not for the pursuit of page views or accolades, but because Jeff Lukas’s extraordinary life and his even more extraordinary courage warrant a few minutes of your time. In many respects, he was the bravest man I have ever encountered.
In 1993, at the age of 36, Jeff Lukas served as the first lieutenant to his father, the legendary trainer D. Wayne Lukas. Wayne Lukas was an imposing figure in the racing world, known for his distinctive style – often seen in leather riding chaps and a white Stetson in the mornings, transitioning to $3,000 suits and aviator sunglasses in the afternoons. He commanded a racing operation of unprecedented scale, encompassing 400 horses, 380 employees, a private jet, and a helicopter. Jeff, Wayne’s only child, was his indispensable right-hand man, a demanding yet effective leader who kept the vast operation running smoothly. “Jeff was the glue,” remarked trainer Todd Pletcher, a former member of Team Lukas who has since become a world-class trainer in his own right.
On December 15th of that year, while Jeff Lukas was overseeing the Lukas barn at Santa Anita Racetrack in Southern California, Tabasco Cat, a promising but spirited two-year-old colt destined to win the Preakness and Belmont Stakes in the spring of 1994, broke loose. As the horse bolted at high speed, Jeff Lukas instinctively placed himself in front of him, a common tactic to halt a runaway thoroughbred. This act itself was a display of bravery, an attempt to prevent the frightened horse from causing harm to itself or others. Unfortunately, in this instance, it did not have the desired outcome. Tabasco Cat collided with Lukas, sending him airborne. Lukas landed heavily on his back, his head striking the ground with tremendous force. The impact resulted in a fractured skull and severe brain injury. His neurosurgeon, Dr. William Caton, would later recount in 2013 that Lukas’s condition “was not compatible with survival very often.”
Remarkably, Jeff Lukas survived. Initially, his cognitive and physical abilities improved at an astonishing rate, sparking hope for a full recovery and a return to his former life. He had a rich and fulfilling existence, married to Linda, with two young children: Brady, then three years old, and Kelly, just 10 months old. However, the initial improvement soon plateaued. His brain and body did not fully recover, preventing him from returning to his previous life. Instead, he faced a vastly different reality, one without his wife, children, or his father. His life became one without horses. He moved from California to Wisconsin, then to Florida, and finally settled in Oklahoma. In 2007, David Burrage, a close friend and the general manager of Lukas Racing Stables from 1980 to 1999, provided Jeff with a job transporting documents between bank branches and assisted him in moving into a ranch home purchased by Wayne Lukas. It was here that Jeff Lukas resided until his passing.
During the reporting for the 2013 story, I connected with members of Jeff’s family: his ex-wife Linda (who had since remarried), his daughter Kelly (then a college soccer player), and his son Brady (an Air Force Academy graduate stationed in Qatar at the time). They are all remarkable individuals, navigating the profound scars left by an unimaginable twist of fate. As I wrote then, while Tabasco Cat physically ran over Jeff, the incident’s impact extended far beyond him, affecting all of them profoundly.
My visit to Jeff’s home in the small Oklahoma town of Atoka offered a glimpse into his enduring spirit. Despite his injuries, he maintained a meticulous nature. His home was immaculate, free of dust, with not a misplaced glass in the kitchen. Jeff recounted his life with the cadence of a seasoned broadcaster, often speaking for over 20 minutes about the careers of the horses he had trained, particularly highlighting the 1986 Horse of the Year Lady’s Secret and the 1988 Kentucky Derby winner Winning Colors. He proudly displayed his numerous Eclipse Awards and his face would light up when discussing photos of his children. We sat in his living room, conversing about the past and the present. As I prepared to leave, he drew me a detailed map to the interstate freehand; the lines were impeccably straight, the angles precise 90-degree turns. Watching from his driveway as I turned my rental car around, Jeff activated the garage door opener, standing still until it descended to the concrete floor.
SI Longform: Jeff Lukas, 20 years later: Out of the Darkness
At the time, I grappled with how to categorize Jeff’s story – as a victory or a defeat. As a sportswriter, I was accustomed to the finality of a box score. Jeff had, in a sense, defeated the brain injury that nearly claimed his life, living for an additional 22 years. Yet, the journey was fraught with immense pain for him and his loved ones. Ultimately, I concluded that it was neither an absolute win nor a loss, recognizing that life rarely exists in black and white; it is a spectrum of gray. Three years later, my understanding has deepened. Jeff Lukas lived with a traumatic brain injury, yet he possessed a profound understanding of what had happened and what had been lost. He shared with me in 2013: “…I’m proud that I stayed determined, focused and worked my way back to be here working with these people. I couldn’t be in a better spot.” When asked if he missed his old life, he gestured ambiguously, his hand moving side to side, but he offered no direct answer.
Where others might have succumbed to self-pity, Jeff forged ahead. He played the hand he was dealt, embracing the life that was presented to him, despite its inherent challenges. “He was so brave,” David Burrage shared on Thursday morning. “I couldn’t have done that. Could you?” This is the enduring lesson Jeff Lukas leaves behind. In a society often quick to complain about minor inconveniences, Jeff had his entire life fundamentally altered – a significant, vibrant life – yet he embraced his new reality with resilience.
Burrage informed me that Jeff’s routine had remained largely consistent since my 2013 visit to Oklahoma. Jeff continued his delivery job (utilizing a driver, as had been the case for many years), attended church on Sundays, and regularly spoke with his father and son about the horses in the stable. His son, who was considering entering the horse business after completing his Air Force service in 2018, shared these conversations. Jeff called me after my story – his story – was published, expressing his gratitude. We spoke a few more times; he was attempting to write a book about his life as a trainer and sought assistance. Regrettably, I was unable to commit the time and my efforts to find another writer were unsuccessful, a fact I still regret.
Last Sunday, Jeff was overjoyed when his beloved Wisconsin Badgers secured a buzzer-beating victory to advance to the Sweet Sixteen of the NCAA Tournament, a team he had supported since his youth in Wisconsin.
On Wednesday morning, he contacted his driver to inform him that he was not feeling well and would be unable to complete his usual rounds. Burrage returned home from a trip early that afternoon, only to learn that Jeff was not answering his phone. They discovered him shortly after 2 p.m. A private ceremony is expected to be held in Oklahoma next week.
The racing community will mourn a brilliant career that was tragically cut short, celebrating the talented horses Jeff nurtured and the aspiring trainers he mentored. His family will remember a man who, despite immense adversity, continually strived to be a father, a role made infinitely more challenging than any of them could have ever imagined. I will remember the slow descent of a garage door and, on the other side, a man who never surrendered.
