Afleet Alex's near-run for the Triple Crown was an inspiration to many. Bill Frakes/SI
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Most of you, by now, have heard the story of Alex Scott, the terrific little girl who died of cancer last year at age 8, how she set up her own lemonade stand to raise funds for her disease and how the owners of the colt Afleet Alex carried on her cause.

I, too, had a daughter named Alex, and she, too, died at age 8 -- from cystic fibrosis, not from cancer. And if you will permit me, this is a little story about her, the Belmont Stakes and two horses.

This year is the 100th anniversary of Belmont Park, and much has been made of the many great races run there. Not much has been said, though, about the terrible one that took place exactly 30 years ago: the match race between Ruffian, the magnificent filly, and Foolish Pleasure, the colt who won the Kentucky Derby.

My Alex was 4 then, a year older than Ruffian was, and she came to adore the filly. Ruffian not only was all Alex wasn't -- big, strong and healthy -- but she was, like Alex, a girl. Maybe because she had to fight so hard, Alex was a budding feminist, and as the day approached for Ruffian's showdown against the male champion, she grew more and more excited.

Alex watched on television as Ruffian roared out of the gate and edged in front of Foolish Pleasure. But 3½ furlongs out, going full tilt, she snapped a leg. Ruffian was so game, she tried to keep on running on three legs. There was no hope for her. They put Ruffian down the next day. Alex was devastated.

Last year, when I heard about a promising colt with Alex in his name, naturally, I took interest. I started betting on Afleet Alex wherever he ran, and the more I heard about him, the more I liked him. Neither his owners, his trainer, Tim Ritchey, nor his jockey, Jeremy Rose, ever had a big-time horse before. What made it even more romantic was that Afleet Alex was a small horse, physically. Then I heard about how the horse's owners were supporting Alex Scott's lemonade stands, and how they always invited the colt's breeder, John Silvertand, to be with them at the big races because he was dying of cancer. Afleet Alex, he said, was what kept him alive. What a wonderful little story; what a wonderful little horse.

But then Afleet Alex lost the Derby, and I thought maybe that was the end of it. But no -- he won the Preakness after all but falling to his knees. He eluded a death on the track, just as Ruffian had not. It was as game a performance as I ever saw an athlete give, animal or human.

Sportswriters are not supposed to get all sappy, but by now I was enamored with Afleet Alex. I'm sure I'm the only person in the world who put this together, but when he came past the finish line Saturday, winning the Belmont under a perfect ride from Rose, I suddenly remembered that Ruffian was buried right there, by the flagpole in the infield.

There is something special about Afleet Alex. And at least in one family -- my own -- there is the feeling that somehow, the little Alex girls, gone, and the little Alex boy, dodging tragedy, then roaring again to glory, also shared this one with Ruffian.