Riding the Blamehorse

Nicole and I have been playing sneaky games of racquetball at a fancy tennis club in Madison, the Cherokee Country Club (we pretend we're members.) Yesterday, our gameplay was de-railed at the pinnacle of an intense match. Why? The Blamehorse.
You see, the night before, we had both been a bit, um, loopy. Our conversation was all over the place, but we remember this clearly-
We invented something called the Blamehorse, he was twice as big as a regular horse and wore a helmet and he was a member of a crew team, rowing in the regatta. We remember this vividly, as well as the fact that he was featured on a series of inspirational posters. "Blame-pass it on."
So we know everything about the Blamehorse except why in the world he was invented. It made us sit on the floor of the racquetball court for at least a half hour, trying to recall our psychedelic train of thought from the night before. I'm still bothered.