It was what the sport needed, actually what all of sports needs.

The Test of a Champion quickly changed to The Testament of Sportsmanship minutes after Birdstone's upset of Smarty Jones' bid to become the 12th Triple Crown winner. Right in front of 120,000 fans at Belmont Park and millions more watching around the country a lesson in winning and losing was prominently, poignantly and eloquently displayed.

Belmont became Broadway with a Tony Award-worthy act that was unpredictable, unexpected and unmatched for its genuineness and spontaneity. That rarest of moments when the phrase "there were no losers" wasn't cliché.

It was unique. Sure, every sporting contest has a winner and loser and usually around half the fans are happy their team won and too bad for the rest -- there is little sympathy, even some animosity. But as I witnessed that day, Smarty Jones, for any doubters, is the horse of the people from Philadelphia to Hot Springs and beyond. He wasn't the Pennsylvania-bred who exceeded all expectations, he was America's horse who carried all hopes and dreams to the point where the actual winners were apologetic for being the ones who spoiled this incredible feel-good story.

And it was there on the track, less than three minutes after the race, in the shadows of the wire that another victory took place, one for us all. Smarty's trainer John Servis walked to Birdstone's trainer Nick Zito to congratulate him for a wonderful job. It was at that moment that gamesmanship rose to a level seldom seen, a revival of the time when horse racing was The Sport of Kings, a gentleman's sport where there was pride in actually having a horse prepared for a challenge and respect for the spirit of the competition.

Servis, who gained a degree of national attention with his multiple Grade 1-winning filly Jostle in 2000, had calmly and consistently dealt with perhaps the most frenzied media blitz ever upon a trainer and horse. And in the heartbreaking conclusion to an almost mythical trip through Kentucky, Maryland and New York, Servis lifted the pall over Belmont with a simple, honest gesture of extending a hand to the trainer who had the better horse that day. It was a celebration of the game and Servis became the human version of his equine star by making everyone feel better for seeing his kind of grace and strength while hearts sank.

And two tiers above that scene sat Smarty's owners Roy and Patricia Chapman, applauding the winner while taking time to speak to every fan who stopped by their box just to say what their horse has meant to them. Elegant still, just as they were in those final 50 excruciating yards, when they watched the book close on their fairy-tale story. They were sad but never felt cheated; disappointed certainly, but never bitter. They were composed until winning owner Marylou Whitney stepped onto the track side podium and expressed as much, if not more, admiration for Smarty Jones as for Birdstone. Pat Chapman's eyes watered.

New Yorker Zito had been second on five occasions in the premiere race near the track where he grew up. Despite winning the Kentucky Derby twice and the Preakness once, Zito barely hesitated to proclaim the Belmont as the greatest victory of his career. Yet even the hometown guy and his hometown moment deferred to the Philly group as he stepped to the microphone and gave tribute to Smarty, Servis and the Chapmans. Roy Chapman closed his eyes to soak in the words.

What was remarkable is that in this age where "great" and "special" and "love" are words thrown out so often and easily that they have practically lost their real meaning. Yet the consoling words offered by Zito, Mrs. Whitney and even jockey Edgar Prado were a full feast of old-fashioned sincerity, last served up probably when FDR was in office. Zito had even told me while walking over to the paddock with Birdstone and Royal Assault (who finished third) that he would be happy with second again. He had that much respect for Smarty Jones and John Servis.

In 2000, When Prado rode the longest shot in the history of the race, Sarava, to victory in the Belmont and thus ending War Emblem's Triple Crown, he was elated to have won, not at all worried about someone else's defeat.

But after beating Smarty Jones, Prado practically apologized for denying the popular horse the Crown, explaining to the national TV audience that he was merely doing his job. He praised Steward Elliott for the manner in which he had piloted Smarty through the Triple Crown. He too could feel the magnitude of the Smarty Party, even after his own masterful ride to another Belmont Stakes stunner.

What makes Smarty Jones special, different from the others who've been this close but yet unable to complete the sweep? His talent certainly. But it also must be his story and the connections that surrounded him. The owners, the trainer and the jockey -- each added something special to the Smarty Jones story. They are real, unpretentious people who never blinked under the bright lights and were always open and accessible, the first to realize how special their once-in-a-lifetime ride was. Yes, they'd beaten the odds at Someday Farm in Pennsylvania and they were quick to share the joy of their good fortune with the rest of the world.

And in defeat, the Smarty group showed the same dignity and warmth. It wasn't an act. These are gracious people, victory or defeat.

It would be special to have another Triple Crown winner. It would bring recognition to the sport. But the sportsmanship displayed at 6:51 p.m. on Saturday, June 5th at Belmont Park was what something we should all savor. It may never happen again.