Before NASCAR, the NBA and the NFL, harness racing was the biggest sport in America, and Dan Patch was its king ... by far the most famous athlete in America.

"The Patch" was born in little Oxford, Ind., not far from Hoopeston, in 1896. He was a big, handsome Standardbred stallion, and at the peak of his fame, his name and image appeared on more than 500 products, from tonics and coaster wagons to cigars and breakfast cereal. He was a four-legged superstar.

He traveled the country for years, never lost a race, and often drew crowds of more than 100,000 screaming fans. His record for pacing the mile — 1 minute, 55 seconds, while pulling a light sulky and driver — stood for 32 years. He earned $1 million a year back in the days when Ty Cobb, the highest paid professional baseball player, brought home $12,000.

But, unlike Cobb, Dan Patch, who died in 1916, was buried in an unmarked grave. Over time, his amazing story was all but forgotten by the public that once idolized him.

Until now. It is told in a just-released book by Charles Leerhsen, an executive editor at Sports Illustrated. "Crazy Good: The True Story of Dan Patch, The Most Famous Horse in America," is a great read ... all 355 pages of it. Leerhsen formerly worked for the U.S. Trotting Association, and he has written about sports and culture for Newsweek, Rolling Stone, Esquire, The New York Times and People.

What a story. Dan was born crippled and unable to stand, and he almost met the fate of most disabled foals in those days: a quick, fatal blow to the head with a hammer.

But fate intervened. He eventually managed to stand up on his misshapen leg, which grew strong. A local blacksmith outfitted him with a special horseshoe for his back left foot, which allowed him to shine as a natural pacer. Starting at local fairs and graduating to the Grand Circuit, he raced from 1900 to 1909, breaking the record for the mile, then cutting four seconds off the mark.

People loved "The Patch." He was beautiful, and, unlike most stallions, gentle and loving. He liked to pose for photographers, and nod to the adoring fans in the grandstands. He loved children, and would let anyone pat his head and stroke his ears.

In 1904, Dwight Eisenhower and his parents lined up at the Kansas State Fair to see him. Harry Truman, as a boy, wrote a fan letter to him. The horse got 50,000 letters a year.

Leerhsen spent two years researching the long-forgotten story. He inhabits his tale with the motley crew of hustlers, hard-drinking drivers and cheats who saw Dan Patch as an easy shot at big money. He writes about an era in which races were often fixed, when horses were rubbed with cocaine and secretly substituted as ringers. Dan’s original owner was coerced into selling him for $20,000 after a stablemate was poisoned.

Dan Patch was so fast that eventually it was impossible to get other horses and drivers to race him, so he raced against the clock before enormous crowds. He traveled in a custom-made, rubber floored Pullman car, and Dan Patch souvenirs were sold at every stop. His last owner, Minneapolis feed-seed magnate M. W. Savage, even built an enclosed half-mile practice track for Dan and his stablemates, illuminated by 1,600 windows.

In those days, race horses were often run three or four times a day, even when they were sick or lame. Pacers were given whiskey and champagne to get them ready for the next contest. Dan Patch was among the many great horses that were exploited by their money-hungry owners, and he spent years on a grueling racing schedule. Finally, he raced against Sav-age’s own horses, and every contest was rigged so that Dan Patch would always win.

By the time "The Patch" died, America’s passionate love affair with harness racing was all but over. The horse-and-buggy era was ending, and automobile racing had made harness races passe.

But, thanks to Leerhsen, a new generation can come to know and love "The Patch."

"A kinder, a wiser, a finer dispositioned spirit in equine form never lived," wrote John Hervey, the greatest turf writer of the early 20th century. "He was goodness personified. And wisdom. That he knew more than most of the men on earth was the firm conviction of those who knew him. It was almost unbelievable that a horse with so mighty a heart, so dauntless a courage, such endless masculine resolution, strength and power, could at the same time be so mild, so docile, teachable, controllable, lovable.

"Those constantly with him worshipped him — would have died for him, I veritably believe, had it been necessary."

Dan Patch was, to use a term from 1900, "crazy good."

Danville native Kevin Cullen is a former Commercial-News reporter. Reach him at irishhiker@aol.com.