by Mike Rogers
"He's gorgeous!" Gambit stretched his muzzle out to sniff my hand.
Harry laughed, "Well, it looks like he's accepted you." Gambit reached forward to nuzzle my pockets. "Don't give him anything," Harry said. "He's running today."
"Really?" I questioned. "What race?"
"The Santa Anita Handicap."
Not thinking that I might be riding Gambit, I patted his nose and walked away. The rest of the morning I lounged around the track watching horses go to exercise and come back.
Then, it was finally time to head to the jockeys' room. When I walked in a valet walked up to me and handed me the silks. I recognized them immediately as the silks of the famous Richard Morris...Wow! I'm going to wear his silks! Snapping out of my other world, I heard the call for the jockeys to go to the paddock.
I nervously walked out into the open, and met up with the other jockeys. They all looked serious as we entered the paddock. I glanced around, looking for Lucero. I spotted him in stall number five. In the stall, was a beautiful bay individual.
He stood sixteen hands and had perfect conformation. His nostrils flared as he surveyed the surroundings. I came up to Lucero, "Who's this?"
"Doctor Thunder."
"What do I need to know?" I queried.
Lucero laughed, "You're always asking questions aren't you? Bugger, as we call him, hasn't run a wink. He breaks fast, runs for a furlong, and then throws in the towel. What I'd like you to do is rate him. Just a warning, he won't like it and you'll lose. Good luck."
He hoisted me up in the saddle and walked away. That was the man I remembered. I smiled to myself and took some deep breaths. I needed a strategy. Bugger and I were in the number one post. If I could just get him trapped behind a group of horses, he would have nowhere to go and be forced to rate, or kill himself and me.
Bugger and I were now on the track. I was trying to warm him up slowly but he was taking none of it. This is what it looked like...Bugger would sprint forward and I would pull him back. Again, the sprinting and pulling, sprinting and pulling, sprinting and pulling. It seemed an eternity until we reached the gate.
Bugger lunged toward the gate, dragging the assistant. With the help of three others, they managed to pull him away. Then, he commenced to drag all four of them. Five minutes later and he still wasn't loaded.
Suddenly, I said, "Let go of him and let him go in himself! NOW!"
The starters were so surprised that they let go. Bugger started trotting up to the gate. With steering, he calmly entered stall one. The starters quickly closed the doors. Now, I realized that I had a dilemma. I had thirty seconds to figure out how to harness his enthusiasm for racing, into stretching out his speed. As an afterthought, I never did figure it out.
DING...DING...DING! The gates flew open and Bugger charged out at full speed. Two strides out of the gate and he was ahead! I knew I had to ration out his speed. I started to take a tentative hold on the reins. The second I did, he became extremely rank. The fluid stride he used when he came out of the gate, became a choppy, short, fighting stride. Immediately, I let him have his head. He returned to normal striding.
I glanced back. We were eight lengths ahead! The far turn loomed. Glancing back again, I noticed out lead had diminished to four lengths and then two. Even though Bugger was still running easy, I had no idea how much gas was left in the tank.
Now, the challenging horse was on our flank and gaining rapidly. It was now or never. I asked him the question.
Ears flat back, I could almost feel him grit his teeth and accelerate to stay ahead of the other horse. I asked him for more, even though I could feel him begin to tire. He accelerated again. As we battled down the dirt strip, Bugger never quit even when the horse beside pulled ahead a head, a neck, a length, and two more. When we crossed under the wire, we were three lengths behind, but I was proud of him.
Slowly, I pulled him back. As he started to slow down, he suddenly tripped. He was one tired puppy. I walked him through the gap and deposited him to a groom. I hopped off, weighed in and headed back to the jockeys' room for the next race. Lucero would give me all the nitty gritties about my ride then.
When I entered the jockeys' room, I glanced at the clock. There was still twenty minutes. I changed into the silks for the next race and sat in front of the TV and watched the commentary. The announcer was talking about the big stakes race that day. I really didn't care until I heard my name...
"Here's something odd, folks. You know the favorite for this race, right? He's being ridden by a virtual unknown! Sarah Randall! This jockey hasn't won ten this year! What is he thinking--!
I didn't listen to it anymore because the whole TV was smashed out. I started at the sparking TV, and remembered what that announcer had said and anger filled me. "I'll show him," I grumbled.
Then, I yanked the practice horse out, jumped up, and started scrubbing and whipping ferociously until the call for the jockeys to go to the paddock sounded. Better the practice mount than the horse I would be riding. Taking a deep breath, and counting to ten, I calmly walked out to the paddock, but on the inside I was seething.
When I reached Lucero, I didn't say a word. He gave me a weird look and I gave him a small tense smile. He misunderstood my expression, saying, "Don't worry about this one. It's a five-furlong race on the downhill turf and all you have to do is get him out front and keep him there. Good luck!"
After giving me a leg up, he walked off and talked to a reporter. It was the same one on TV. My muscles got tense and the horse started to act up. I had to shape up now or lose this race. The rest was a blur until the race started.
The bay gelding broke sharp. Immediately, I hustled him to the front. Another horse came up beside us so I asked him for more speed. With his ears pricked, the bay accelerated. The opposing horse on the outside, started to drift back. The jockey tapped him with the crop, but there was no response. 'Not his day, I guess,' I thought. My gelding on the other hand, had plenty left. He still had a good hold on the bit and was tugging, asking if it was time yet.
I quickly glanced over my right shoulder and saw nobody coming fast. Suddenly, we were in the last two furlongs and I let him open up. He flattened beautifully under me as he easily reached out and grabbed the turf. I glanced under my shoulder again and saw that there was nobody close. I was seven lengths ahead of the next horse. The gelding was running so easily that I saw no reason to restrain him. Ears pricked, we flashed under the wire.
When we trotted into the winner's circle, Lucero was smiling from ear to ear. He patted my knee and said, "That's my girl."
I gave him a thin smile and a nod. By this time, I was fully aware of the reporter standing directly behind him. After the winner's photo, I hastily jumped off, took the saddle off, and when to weigh in. I wasn't going to let anyone stop and talk to me.
Back in the jockeys' room, I quickly changed into my next silks, and walked into the lounge. Arthur Baca, the leading rider of the meet, so far, walked up to me.
"Nice ride out there, Randall. You smoked them!"
I barely heard him because I was so in tune in my own little world. When I finally realized that someone had talked to me, I jumped and looked up at him.
Laughing, he said, "You remind me of myself! I'll leave you alone for now, but do you want to go to supper after the race?"
I was a little flustered, but I said, "Sure!" Before he could say anything else, the announcement sounded for the jockeys to go to the paddock.
When I reached Lucero, he gave more instructions than usual. The horse's name was Silver Bullet. He was a five-year-old stallion who had won a couple of Grade Ones two years ago, before he suffered a bowed tendon. His owners didn't retire him because they hoped Bullet would be able to come back and win more money.
Lucero wasn't sure how he was going to run. There were two scenarios he thought of. Bullet would break fast from the one post and be rank if I tried to rate him because of being fresh off the long layoff. The other was he would break alertly or
slow and I would cover him up on the rail in the mile and one eighth turf race and run him European style. He would hopefully make a big late run in the end. Lucero told me good luck and boosted me up.
Bullet was a huge stallion that was just coming into his physical prime. He was on his toes with his coat glistening and muscles rippling in the afternoon sun. He loaded quietly into the gate with an inexperienced eye, but I knew he was raring to go. Bullet's ears were pricked forward and his front feet were bouncing as he anticipated the start. The last horse loaded and Bullet went absolutely still...
When the gate opened, Bullet bunched his muscles and exploded like a rocket out of a cannon. Surprisingly, he was relaxed. he didn't break all that fast and seemed content to settle behind the first round of horses. Tugging on the bit, he asked if it was time to go. We rounded into the backstretch, and I knew that if we could get out, Bullet and I would blow the race wide open. Now, I just had to sit and wait.
Bullet moved closer as we started to round the far turn. Halfway around, the other horses were advancing and I had nowhere to run. I could feel Bullet start to get anxious.
Then, suddenly, as we entered the stretch, the leader on the rail drifted wide. As the horse drifted, I could see the rider trying to get him back to the rail. 'Not a chance,' I thought. Without any encouragement from me, Bullet exploded down the lane. Bullet's shoulder was entering the slot when the leading horse drifted in again. I yelled at the jock to give me room because I wouldn't be able to back out fast enough. He couldn't give me any more. Now it was too late. I rode Bullet as hard as I could to try to get through the hole in one piece.
It was progressively getting smaller. We were three-quarters of the way through! Just a little more! One stride of getting through, Bullet clipped heels, badly. His whole bad end was swept out from under him. He head suddenly pitched forward as his front legs started to give way from supporting all his weight. I grabbed a hunk of mane as I held on for dear life, as he stumbled again and again trying to regain his balance. It felt like forever!
When Bullet recovered, we had lost five lengths on the field. Not giving up, Bullet exploded down the stretch. He wasn't going to give up, and I wouldn't either! With an eight of a mile to go, Bullet covered huge amounts of ground. There were a hundred yards and one length to make up. Bullet made one last powerful burst of acceleration to make the race a photo finish.
I started to pull him up when I noticed that something was wrong. Pulling him up and glancing at his feet, I saw his blood splattered legs. I pulled him to a halt and jumped off of him. It was immediately clear from where I was standing that there was a considerable chunk missing from his right hind foot. For one thing it had no shoe.
Before I knew it, the ambulance crew and vet had arrived. Somehow, I ended up at the edge of the fray. A hand was placed on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" Lucero murmured.
The vet came over momentarily. "He's lost some blood and he'll have to wear special shoes for the rest of his life. As far as I can tell, the hoof wall we'll never be able to sustain the impact of racing. I'm confident that he'll pull through."
I gave a weary sight, "After we clipped heels, Bullet picked up running like nothing was wrong. He was so courageous!"
Lucero put an arm around my shoulders and started to lead me back toward the jockeys' room. "These things happen," he said with a tear glistening in his eye. "You will be okay for the next race?" with a hint of concern in his voice.
I nodded. he gave me one last pat and walked toward the barn to collect the next horse.
The next couple of races were a blur. I don't even remember how I did. But when it came to the last race on the card, I will never forget it.
Chapter Three
I had my silks on for the last race, the Santa Anita Handicap. I knew I was riding Harry's pride and joy, Gambit. All I knew of the horse was that he finished a fast closing third in the Breeder's Cup Classic the year before. Before that, he had won his first stakes race, the Super Derby at Oaklawn. Earlier in the year, he had won an allowance impressively. He was slowed with a quarter crack, but was ready to race today, I heard.
Suddenly, I noticed that I was pacing in front of my locker. I decided to head to the main area to stop the behind my back conversations of the other jockeys. When I entered the room, many of the conversations halted. I smiled to myself, 'Sorry guys for disrupting your gossip.' I sat in a big comfy chair by the TV. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw the big bully, Dick Darling, smirking down at me. Rolling my eyes, I turned my head away. Tapping me on the shoulder again, he said, "You're losing big in this race, Taylor. That horse you're riding is slumping just like you are. Take a good look at my face because this is the only time you're going to see it." He hit me on the shoulder and walked away.
Inside, I was fuming. One thing was for certain. Lucero had primed Gambit for this race. he would be ready to rumble. I smiled to myself. I could do anything I wanted with Gambit. So I would do the one tactic no one would be looking out for. I would go for the lead. Everyone would be looking to block me in the back. It was the perfect strategy.
Half an hour later, the call for the jockeys to come to the post sounded. I walked down in my own little world, figuring out my exact strategy. I vaguely heard Lucero say to take it easy with Gambit since it was his first time back in three months. Suddenly we were on the track. That's when I started shaking him up and getting him excited. By the time we reached the gate, Gambit was bouncing and on his toes. We loaded into the four hole. I readied myself to do some gate riding I'd never done before.
The bell tolled. I screamed, "Come on! Come on!" I never touched the crop. I only wanted a fast start. Gambit gave me just that. He shot out of the gate and two strides out I coast him in the lead to the rail. I took a quick glance back and to me it looked like everyone was shocked.
As I was coming into the first turn, I eased back slightly to steady him and allowed the supposed to be lead horse coast on up. Also, since Gambit had never been on the lead before, it helped him to relax by being beside another horse. My plan worked perfectly. Gambit's head was low and he really stretched out with his stride. The chestnut beside me, on the other hand, was not happy. He wanted to blow me away right then and there.
We approached the middle of the backstretch. It was now that I would employ Lucero's strategy to the fullest. I lowered my hands on his neck so there was a little slack on the reins. Gambit's stride lengthened again and he relaxed even more. I knew that his pace increased, but at this point I was not worried. He was running so easily!
The far turn loomed. I hadn't hustled him since the gate. The companion from the backstretch faded away and we were all alone. But not for long!
Taking a quick glance to the right, I saw Darling, flying! He had a look of pure menace on his face. It was scary!
In response, I clucked to Gambit and shook the reins. He responded willingly, but without gusto. Another glance. Two lengths away! Shaking the reins again, I desperately tried to get some response.
Gambit loafed. His concentration wavered and at the last bit of the turn, he prematurely switched to his right lead. He slowed and drifted out. That's all Darling needed.
The little bay horse shot forward on the inside. by the time we came to the straightaway, Darling had a two-length jump on us. Finally, Gambit was ready to set out and work. And work I did on him. I screamed and hollered and urged until my ears were deaf because I was yelling so loud.
With every stride we closed the gap. We passed the eighth pole a neck behind. It was taking forever! With one hundred yards to go, I beseeched Gambit to pick up the extra foot. He responded! Now, we were head and head, bobbing out of time. The wire loomed...Five strides...Four strides...Three...Two...One.....
Suddenly, the deafening noise of the crowd tumbled into my ears. In voluntarily, I had risen out of the saddle and slowed Gambit down. Glancing down at him, I noticed something astonishing. He wasn't even taking a deep breath! I realized he could have blown the ot
her horse away at any time, but didn't leaving it up to a head bob.
I turned the colt and trotted toward the gap. In the mix of the crowd, I spotted Lucero's furious face. 'I guess running on the lead wasn't a good idea,' I thought. Then I said, "Well, Gambit, it looks like I'll be jobless again." I was so down and gloomy that I didn't even notice the announcer say that I had won.