The first race at Belmont Park on Sunday afternoon was nearing the finish when a 4-year-old filly named Just Foolin stumbled in deep stretch and fell, propelling her rider, Angel Arroyo, head over heels to the track, where he lay curled in a ball as the latter half of the 10-horse field went hurtling past -- one of the horses appearing to kick him, even as she tried to avoid him.

It was less than 24 hours after the tragic collapse and death of the courageously game filly Eight Belles moments after crossing the finish line second in the Kentucky Derby.

Unlike the Derby, which was attended by more than 157,000 at Churchill Downs, and watched by millions more on national television, there were only 4,576 fans in the mostly empty grandstand at Belmont, and the video of the race was seen only by racing fans watching at simulcast outlets, or on their computers.

If those hardcore handicappers cared about anything than other the results of the race, they were out of luck. They were never shown what was going on around Just Foolin, who was vanned off, nor were they informed -- at least not while I was watching and listening -- about the condition of Arroyo, who, it was reported Monday in the New York papers, had a bruised thigh.

It was yet another example of how, although the horses that run the races are noble thoroughbreds, the people who run the game are more like ostriches.

There was no way, however, that thoroughbred racing could put its collective head in the sand Saturday at Churchill Downs. Not with the world watching as Eight Belles lay on the track with two shattered ankles -- a painful, mortal injury that required immediate euthanization by lethal injection.

It was yet another in a increasingly disturbing series of accidents to have occurred on the rare days when casual sports fans are watching racing.

On Breeders' Cup day last October, a European champion colt named George Washington broke down in the Classic at Monmouth Park and had to be euthanized on the track.

Two years ago, Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro was trying to add the Preakness to his list of victories when he injured a leg. After months of treatment, he finally succumbed.

Racing no longer can ignore such accidents.

The sport, which once led the nation in attendance -- surpassing even major-league baseball, the National Pastime -- has plummeted in popularity since its heyday just before, and immediately after, World War II.

The sad, and grisly, scenes of the demise of such fine equine athletes as Eight Belles, Barbaro and George Washington -- along with the injuries suffered by everyday horses such as Just Foolin, who hadn't finished "in the money" (first, second or third) in five starts prior to Sunday -- only serve to turn people away from what, in many ways, is a truly beautiful, very exciting and very traditional sport.

In some ways, too traditional. There is a reluctance to change in thoroughbred racing, yet, clearly, some changes must be made, less a sport which once was revered across America become reviled.

One positive development has been the trend toward synthetic racing surfaces. Although the data is not yet conclusive, it appears that artificial tracks, such as those at Del Mar in California and Keeneland in Lexington, Ky., are safer than dirt tracks, such as those on which the Triple Crown races are run at Churchill, Pimlico (in Baltimore) and Belmont.

Other changes are not as easy to implement.

For generations, horses have been increasingly bred for speed, not durability. Instead of racing every week or two, as many did, most horses now race barely once a month, if even that often.

The legendary Seabiscuit raced an incredible 35 times as a 2-year-old -- more than most horses run now in their entire careers -- and won only five, even though he was trained by Hall of Famer "Sunny Jim" Fitzsimmons. It wasn't until "the 'Biscuit" was purchased the following year, in August 1936, at Saratoga, by West Coast auto magnate Charles Howard, and put into the hands of Tom Smith, that his career took off.

This year's Derby winner, Big Brown, has had chronic foot problems. He raced just once as a 2-year-old, and that was on grass. His Derby race was only the fourth of his career. Now, in order to win the Triple Crown, he'll have to race again a week from Saturday, in the Preakness, and if, as expected, he wins there, he'll almost certainly run in the Belmont Stakes three weeks after that, on June 7, in a demanding distance race that covers a grueling mile-and-a-half.

It's been 30 years since a horse won the Triple Crown. It was in 1978 that Affirmed outdueled Alydar three times. It is too tempting a prize to pass up. And so it is likely that Big Brown, who, prior to the Derby, had run three times in his life, will have to run three times in five weeks in order to win the Triple Crown.

That's a lot to ask of any horse in this day and age, especially of one prone to quarter-cracks (painful splits) in his hooves.

Big Brown is a product of a breeding industry that has dangerously narrowed thoroughbred bloodlines. Like the last 14 Kentucky Derby winners -- and Eight Belles -- Big Brown is a descendant of the late Native Dancer, a great racehorse who was highly successful in passing along speed and racing precocity to his offspring, but -- his own career cut short by leg injuries -- passed along that less desirable trait, as well.

Another change that would be beneficial would be the elimination of race-day medication. If a horse needs drugs to run, it shouldn't run. If it can't race clean, it shouldn't race at all. Medication allows unsound horses to train, and race, when they'd be better off in the barn.

The problem is that race cards have to be filled every day at tracks across the country. The larger the fields, the more money is wagered. Gambling is, after all, the reason most patrons go to the track, and the payoffs tend to be bigger when there are 10 horses in a race than when there are only five.

Sadly, one of the rare times racing authorities seem to pop their heads out of the sand is when the handle drops.

When a horse and jockey go down, as in the first race Sunday at Belmont, they look the other way.