by Mike Rogers
Watching the horses walk around, I immediately picked out the Countdown. His deep brown coat glistened and sparkled in the hot summer sun. The screen switched to an exclusive interview with Arthur Baca, the jockey of Countdown.
As usual there were the typical question about strategy and the competition. Right before the commercial, Arthur interrupted the commentator.
"Hey, I want to say a huge hello to Sarah Randall who should be in the saddle today. You were right, Sarah!"
"Thanks, Arthur," I murmured to the TV. While I was caught up in my emotional moment, I failed to notice Lucero who heard every word of Arthur's monologue. Apparently, he looked like he could have murdered Arthur.
Twenty minutes later, the horses were loading in the gate. As expected, the Countdown loaded like a pro. The rest of the field also loaded smoothly.
The call sounded, "And…they're off!"
The Countdown broke smoothly, moving to the inside into the fourth position. I noticed Arthur's subtle head movements as he surveyed the field. Glancing to his right, he studied the Preakness winner, Frons.
A second later, the Countdown edged away from Frons and deftly swung outside, forcing Frons to check slightly. As the field continued down the backstretch, Arthur and the Countdown continued to make slow progress to the front.
Nothing really changed until halfway through the far turn. Arthur asked for another gear, and Frons followed right behind. Glancing back, Arthur spotted the approaching Preakness winner. Immediately, he angled the Countdown in, cutting off any chance of Frons taking the inside and the advantage. That was how the Countdown got beat in the second leg of the Triple Crown.
Turning into the top of the stretch, the Countdown fluidly switched leads accelerating into another gear. It became quite apparent that it was turning into a two horse race. Arthur glanced back at the continuing threatening presence of Frons. Reaching back, he gave the Countdown two firm taps with the crop. With a no nonsense attitude, the Countdown pinned his ears and steadily pulled away to win by three.
"Yesss!" I shrieked punching my good hand into the air, "Atta, boy!" Now, I just couldn't wait until I could get back into the saddle.
In the winner's enclosure, the reporter had just started interviewing Lucero. As always, the first question revolved around the Countdown's next race.
"Of course we'll have to see how he comes out of the race, but the Travers is definitely on our minds."
Then, the reporter asked, "I hear you have another nice three-year-old, Mister Rodney. He ran a really strong race in the Swaps. Is the Travers in his plans?"
Smiling, Lucero gave the typical trainer answer, "Possibly. It all depends on how he's training." Excusing himself, Lucero walked away.
Switching off the TV, I say back and sighed. It was basically a good weekend for the Lucero camp. I could have been right in the middle too. Lifting up the offending wrist, I gently flexed it. There wasn't any pain, just some soreness and tiredness. Tomorrow, I decided, I would begin some physical therapy to regain some strength. There's nothing that's going to keep me off Longshot!
The week before the Pacific Classic loomed. It was test time for me. I had a doctor's appointment Tuesday to determine my fitness. My wrist was feeling great. For the last couple of days, I had started lifting small weights to see if a little strain bothered it. There was no pain, soreness, or awkwardness.
On Tuesday, I was very optimistic going in and even more so going out of the doctor's office. I had passed with flying colors. Of course, there were the usual warnings of not straining it too much and working up to a full schedule slowly. That was only to be suspected. Did I listen? Of course! Just as much as any jockey does! I'll allow you to draw your own conclusions, either positive or negative…
Wednesday morning drew bright and clear. I arrived at six sharp, making my first stop at Longshot's stall.
"Hey, big guy. You ready for me to ride you today?"
"You, ride?" Harry's distinctive voice asked, "Has the doctor cleared you?"
"Yep," I said not turning around, giving Longshot another pat. "What's Longshot up for today?"
"I don't know if Lucero will let you ride. He's breezing five furlongs today."
Smirking at Harry, I said, "Does it look like I'll take no for an answer?"
At Longshot's allotted time to go to the track, Harry led up down to the gap. There I met a good friend of mine, Matt, another fellow jockey, on Mister Rodney.
"Matt, what's up?"
"Oh, I'm just going to kick your butt in this five furlong breeze."
Walking up close to him, I punched him in the side. "Not a chance! Longshot and I are an unbeatable team!" Before he could punch me back, I urged Longshot onto the track.
"Hey," Matt called, catching up with me, "Does Lucero know you're riding?"
I said simply, but with a slight smile on my face, "Would I be if he knew? Let's go!"
After warming up for about ten minutes, Matt and I took the horses to the gate. Apparently, Lucero had decided that both horses needed a gate work.
Now all during this time, Lucero was standing near the finish line, trying to figure out which of his exercise riders was riding Longshot. The riding style did not match up with any of them. It couldn't be Sarah?
"SARAH! I'm going to kill you!" Lucero shouted just as Longshot was locked in the gate.
Matt said as Mister Rodney was loaded in, "He's extremely mad you know." Still, he couldn't keep the smile off his lips.
"Yeah," I said, "But he's so cute that way!"
A second later, the gates slammed open to out laughter.
Lucero furiously slammed down the start on his stopwatch.
Only a hundred yards away from the gate, Longshot was five lengths ahead. Easing back on the reins, I steadied his speed so we didn't pull further ahead. Without being told, I knew the goal of the workout was to have the horses hit the wire together.
Glancing back, I saw Matt give Rodney a nudge. Switching gears, Rodney gave a burst of relentless acceleration. Within a coupled of seconds, he was at Longshot's flank and gaining. Just as Rodney came on even terms, I eased my grip on the reins to allow Longshot to keep pace.
At the beginning of the stretch, Matt and I courteously nodded to each other, and then turned our respective mounts loose. Longshot accelerated more quickly, easily putting a half-length between us. But Rodney continued to battle on slowly, ever so slowly, closing the gap. Neither Matt nor I urged the horses, allowing them to decide how much effort to exude.
A hundred feet from the wire, the horses were head to head, staring each other in the eye, measuring the other. Then, just a few jumps from the wire, Longshot surged, pushing himself to a head in front just as we crossed the wire.
Longshot responded loyally as I pulled him up, but Rodney was royally mad at getting beat right on the wire. He was throwing his had, ears pinned back, and his teeth were bared as he seemed to snarl at Longshot.
Longshot slowed down as if he noticed nothing, but betrayed his knowledge with his arched neck and prance to his walk. By the time we got back to the gap both horses were relaxed. My legs hugged his sides as we lazily walked through, the wrist giving me no problems at all.
Swinging off, I handed Longshot to a hot walker, whispering, "I'll be back soon," and kissing him on the nose. Seeing Lucero approach, I acted like it was just a regular day. "Hey, did you see how Rodney responded to Matt? I'd book him if I were you. They're two peas in a pod!" Pulling Matt up beside me, I smiled brightly at him.
Lucero, not acknowledging me, turned to Matt, "Nice work. Have your agent call me tonight?"
"Sure thing," Matt said, shaking hands with him. After giving me a pat on the back, he walked away.
Then, Lucero decided to see me. Motioning for me to follow him, we went and stood by the rail. With fake calm and nonirritation, he said, "I'm guessing the doctor cleared you to ride?"
"Yes, he did," I said a little defensively, "He even said I could have ridden in the afternoon races
yesterday if I really wanted to!"
"Why didn't you?" Lucero asked taking a quick glance at me.
"Because I want to be one hundred percent for Sunday. Some light riding won't hurt and then I'll resume riding races on Friday."
"What makes you think that?" Lucero questioned threateningly.
Fed up, I snapped, "Must you always argue with me?"
Sighing, he said, "Year, you're right. I just don't want you coming back too fast. Just be careful the next couple of days." Turning away, he got ready to time another horse.
Taking that as a dismissal, I turned to walk away, marveling at his attitude. I didn't get very far before Lucero called my name.
"Sarah! You're totally right about Matt!"
Smiling, I waved acknowledging that I'd heard and went to the backside. Back at the shed row, Longshot was getting a bath. Bobbing his head up and down he pranced and danced as the water flowed over his glistening muscled body. If he were human…
He'd be the most popular guy with big muscles and an air of arrogance to him because he knew he was the best. All the girls would swoon when he entered the room. Oh, if he were human…
I'd hate him because I've always hated the arrogant jocks! Well, its' a good thing he's a horse I guess. After Longshot was finished with his bath, I took the lead rope and led him around myself.
The few days till the Pacific Classic passed in relative peace. On Saturday, the day before, Countdown again performed like a champion, crushing his Travers' opponents. Arthur had gotten the call the ride. That was fine with me. It was a lot easier to just stay in California than take two cross-country planes!
So, the morning of the Pacific Classic arrived rather quietly. That morning, I took a full load of horses to the track. My wrist felt just like it did before the fall.
Now, about the field for the Pacific Classic. It was fairly strong with top class older horses in Longshot, Morabs Moons, and Chia Cave. Plus, surprisingly, Lucero decided to enter Mister Rodney at the last minute. Why Lucero thought Rodney ever had a chance of beating Hear, I'll never know! Do I sound conceited? Of course not!
Well, according to the handicappers, the race was very competitive. None of them could agree on who was going to win. They interviewed Matt, Lucero, and me in the paddock to get out strategies and opinions. Rodney was coming from off the pace of course. I said Longshot would be stalking, but it all depends on the break and happenings from there. After the interview, Matt and I turned back to Lucero.
He said, "This is a real race. If the other is in front, don't just let them win. Make them work for it!"
Nodding, we turned to our respective horses. First Matt, then I was boosted up. Giving Lucero a thumbs up, I concentrated fully on Longshot's preparation for the race. I must admit, Longshot had never felt stronger. Each step exuded restrained strength and power just waiting to be unleashed. On the track, I warmed him up well, feeling to the full extent, his readiness for this task.
At the gate, all the horses were well behaved. As usual, Longshot loaded calmly into slot five. In no time, the seven-horse field was in the gate and ready to start. The bell tolled and the gate opened a second later.
Longshot broke extremely sharp, throwing my weight back a bit with his burst of speed. Regaining my balance, I took a hold of the reins, steadying and angling him toward the rail. We were fourth in the three path from the rail. The front-runners were all ready three lengths ahead, their jockeys angled forward. It was a beginning of a wicked speed duel.
Glancing back, I spotted Rodney and Matt five lengths behind me, last. Not exactly where Lucero wanted them, but Rodney didn't have the pace to keep up. Nothing changed in the field until halfway down the backstretch. The front-runners were clearly beginning to tire. Their jockeys were pushing them along, but Longshot and Chia Cave to my inside were beginning to close in rapidly with no urging.
I took a quick look over my shoulder, and was confronted with the fast approaching Rodney. Gosh he got close fast! Quickly, I swung Longshot out a little further to ensure my path wouldn't be blocked by the front-runners. Asking Longshot for another gear, we swept past Chia Cave entering the far turn. Looking back, Rodney was two lengths behind me. Matt was sitting chilly on the colt, hinting there was a lot of gas left in the tank.
Focusing my thoughts forward again, I allowed my instincts and hearing to guide me in determining when Rodney would strike. My final move would be made after Matt made his. Longshot's acceleration and determination would win him the race if need be.
Just before the top of the stretch, Longshot swooped past the front-runners. Looking back one last time, I knew my only major threat was Rodney. The others were running for show.
As I concentrated on Rodney's hoof beats, I heard the distinctive change of a horse switching into high gear. Adjusting the reins and giving Longshot a first slap on the shoulder signaled the stallion to switch gears. Lowering his head, Longshot's body flattened out in one stride.
Now, I only had to glance over to see Rodney right at Longshot's neck. I kind of felt bad. Matt was all over Rodney, squeezing every ounce of speed that he could. I, on the other hand, was just giving Longshot a strong hand ride. Rodney just was quite good enough to compete on Longshots' level. Deciding to end Matt and Rodney's misery, I reached back and gave Longshot a couple slaps on the rump. Accelerating, Longshot easily put Rodney away by three lengths at the wire.
Pulling Longshot up, I allowed Matt to gallop up. "Good race!" I called out.
Giving me a thumbs up, Matt returned, "He's a fine horse, Rach! We'll get you next time!"
Laughing, I shook my head as the outrider grabbed Longshot's bridle. Within minutes, I was speaking with the broadcasters.
"With Longshot's second grade one win in a row, has he returned to his three and four-year-old form?"
What a stupid question, I though. "Actually," I said, "I think he's better and stronger than he ever was even though he's seven years old!"
Ten minutes later, Harry grabbed Longshot's bridle, leading him into the winner's circle. Jumping down, I was quickly engulfed into a hug, by none other than Lucero himself! Releasing me, he boosted me back up for the picture. As expected Longshot posed perfectly. Things calmed down slightly after I weight in, but my time in the spotlight wasn't over yet.
Someone, who happened to be Lucero, pulled me into camera range, as he said, "There is no better person on or of the track than Sarah Randall. Her common sense and skill with horses would make her invaluable to any barn. That is why that at the end of the year, I want to offer her a position as an assistant trainer."
My smile vanished, my mouth dropping open in a silent, O. Before I had time to think, the microphone was shoved in my face.
Chapter Thirteen
Sputtering, I had no idea what to say. Thankfully, and later on, horribly, Lucero began to speak.
"Obviously, you can't ask her that question, "he countered suavely, "but there is no reason for her to refuse. Someday, she'll get married and have her own family. Working as an assistant trainer is a much more stable and safe fob than that of a jockey."
Placing my hands behind my back, I kept my pleasant face on the outside while I squeezed my hands together, pretending to wring Lucero's neck. How dare he tell me to live my life! Is he daring to suggest that race riding is too dangerous for women? It was one proposal before his comment, but now how could I dare even consider it!
A short time later, the reporters thanked us for out time and proceeded to close out the show. Immediately, turning away, I walked away without saying a word to Lucero. Entering the jockey's room, I changed and entered the lounge. Spotting Matt, I weaved my way over to him.
"Did you hear him?" I demanded.
"Yeah," Matt said, "That's a nice offer."
"But did you hear what he said?!" I snapped. "He's always tried to run my life! I make my own decisions! I'll decide when I don't want to ride anymore! I'll decide when my profession is too dangerous! I'll decide—"
"Sarah
!" Matt interrupted, "Stop taking everything as a personal offence!"
Abashed, I stared at him speechless, trying to form words.
Matt continued, "Race riding is dangerous for anybody. Don't you remember Michael Rathen who quit riding to work as a sales agent. His wife had just had their first child."
"But, Matt," I said, "I'm single, an only child, and my parents are dead. I have nothing to go home to."
"Someday soon I think that will change."
"What? But I'm—" I started to say.
"Sarah, your problem is that you only think about yourself. Observe the people around you." He finished by saying, "You may learn a lot."
Finally rendered speechless, Matt left me to absorb and think about what was said.