Longshot: A New York Times Bestseller

by Mike Rogers

  Cage Fighter practically pranced down to the track. Showing off his glistening coat to the myriad of photographers lining the path. Once on the track though, he turned to all business. Striding out into a trot, he was so patient just waiting for my slightest signal to increase his speed. We had finally come to an understanding.

  On the backstretch, I finally let him accelerate into a slow gallop, stretching his muscles in preparation for the breeze. After one uneventful circuit, he was ready for the half-mile work. Nearing the half-mile pole in the backstretch, I gathered the reins indicating it was time to work.

  When I asked for more speed at the pole, he gladly gave it. Striding out, he glided along, hugging the rail. Continuing around the turn, eh gained speed, matching his strides perfectly to the trajectory of the turn. Sitting chilly, I was motionless seeing no need to ask for more than he was willing to give.

  Into the stretch, Cage Fighter fluidly switched leads, accelerating into another gear. Continuing to leave him to his own devices, I was just a passenger as we whipped by the eighth pole. A big black blur as we passed the finish line, I stood up slowly bring him back down to a tot. That was a black type work if I ever witnessed one!

  At the gate, Harry was jumping up and down in excitement as he held Longshot behind Lucero. Lucero, was trying to hide his pleasure at the work, but failed with a slight upward quirk to his lips.

  Jumping off, I heard Harry exclaim, "He hasn't even taken a deep breath!"

  Smiling, I patted Cage Fighter's slightly sweaty shoulder and turned my attention to Lucero.

  "That was a…fantastic…work…there's really not much else to say besides that he is so ready…" As you can tell, he was rather at a loss for words. Once Cage Fighter was out of sight, however, he was able to turn his attention to Hear. "A good work, Sarah. I don't think anyone could out do Cage Fighter today."

  Nodding, I turned Longshot to the track. Warming him up, I was thinking, I don't know Lucero, Longshot may just surprise you. Longshot's workout was longer, six furlongs, so I was going to start on the first turn to avoid the chute.

  As usual, he just glided over the track, gobbling up ground with is efficient strides. Nobody, not even Cage Fighter, compared with the efficiency of Longshot. Experience was definitely the key. Years of racing honed Longshot's stride to its most efficient length and movement. Also, he was so smart and mentally mature compared to any other horse.

  Sweeping along the track, I didn't have to do a thing. This was such old hat, Longshot knew exactly how fast to go at every stage. The whole way through, he was well within himself, but saw the need to push himself slightly in the stretch. As always, a perfect workout.

  We returned to Lucero's smiling and nodding face. There was really nothing to say. It was all so obvious.

  Hopping down, I gave Longshot a pat on his slightly sweaty neck. Now on to Rodney. The bay colt's coat gleamed with health. He was really filling out and looking like the stallion he was.

  After I was boosted up, I turned to warm him up, but Lucero called me to wait. Up behind him was Chrissy, riding Rodney's workmate. I allowed her to catch up, but did not speak right away. I wasn't mad at her, per se, but I was a little irritated with her. As it turned out, she decided to speak first.

  "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. I wouldn't take it back." Glancing over at me, she waited for my reaction.

  Smiling, I said, "That's fine. I ended up getting what I wanted!"

  We laughed all the way through the warm up. Then, chatted coming up to the six furlong starting point. At the start of the breeze, Rodney was a good six lengths back, gathering his momentum, preparing to launch his attack.

  Rounding the far turn, Rodney was within a length of his workmate with no urging from me. Just like the rest of the horses, crossing the wire, Rodney was well ahead of the other horse.

  Once again, there were several oohs and aahs from random people along the fence. So those horses' last workouts were all huge successes. There was just one to go, Graceful Minuette. Noelle's filly would work tomorrow.

  Noelle was pacing around nervously when I found her the next morning. Understandably so! There were reporters milling about everywhere. Word had leaked out that I was the chosen rider for Graceful Minuette for the rest of the year, even if she makes to the Juvenile Fillies. If she would happen to win, that would make up the first woman trainer/jockey combo to win a Breeder's Cup race.

  So amid the slightly organized chaos, I saw the approaching form of Grace. Her ears were pricked forward as she studied the crowd. Nothing seemed to faze her, not the camera flashes, taking, or admirers. She looked like a pro.

  And then there was Noelle, who was wringing her hands in nervousness.

  Touching her arm, I said, "She looks like a pro, Noelle. She's eating up all this attention."

  Noelle smiled wanly back at me, "I guess you're right. Eh does seem quite relaxed…Now, Sarah, I want a stiff half-mile work, galloping out to five furlongs. That will set her up perfectly for the race."

  By now, I was on top of the prancing filly. As we jigged out onto the track, I saluted and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

  Allowing Grace to jog, we set out the wrong way around the track. The filly bowed her neck and lifted her feet high until we were well around the far turn.

  "Finally ready to get down to business, hmm?" I murmured to her. Then, I turned her around, and urged her into a gallop. She strode strongly down the stretch to the flashing of cameras. Around the clubhouse turn we went, nearing the half-mile pole. Gather her together, I prepared her for the beginning of the breeze, then urging her into it.

  Immediately, I noticed a difference in the filly. She didn't feel as dainty as in her first race. Her aggressiveness was amazing. Her professional attitude and powerful stride carried us over the track. Nothing bothered her. Not a horse freaking out along the outside rail. Not birds chirping and flying in front of us.

  Entering the far turn, she fluidly switched her stride, really leaning and working the turn to her advantage. I sat chilly, as she blasted into the stretch. Everything was a blur as we powered down the stretch and across the finish line. Standing up in the stirrups, I allowed her to gallop out another furlong before pull her up fully.

  Jogging her toward Noelle, her stride was long and flowing. Noelle couldn't contain her grin. She was practically jumping up and down. Grabbing Grace's bridle, she kissed her on the nose and patted her neck. Sliding off, I helped Noelle field questions about Grace's workout.

  So the weekend had finally arrived. Rodney was shipped off to the Fair Grounds while Longshot and Cage Fighter remained at Belmont Park. But before those races, was Grace's attempt to win the Frizette on Friday. She wasn't the morning-line favorite, but who knew who would end up being the race favorite by post-time.

  Most of the morning, I spent with Chrissy just trying to distract myself a little bit. She was talking animatedly about her recent discussion with the Rogers.

  The Rogers had confirmed that Longshot would be retired at the end o the year, win or lose in the Breeder's Cup Classic. Yes, I was sad, but Longshot was seven-years-old and was starting to show some wear and tear from six years of racing. His medical records were almost as tall as I was with his various illnesses and physical problems. Everyday, his legs were checked multiple times to ensure that there was no filling or heat. It was any wonder that Longshot had any time to rest at all with all the hustle and bustle during the day. As much as I knew he loved racing, I also knew he would enjoy retirement.

  So for most of the morning we talked about her plans for her farm, building plans and such. Then, I headed to the jockey's room to sit in the sauna and meditate a little before the races. Even now, ,when I look back on that day, I don't remember the races before the Frizette. It just all seemed to fly by…

  "Ok, Sarah," Noelle said glancing at Grace, "I want her in a stalking position, but if the pace is fast, don't be afraid to take her back. And if she comes out on top take her to the outside to allow someone else to pa
ss. Then, just use your own judgment." She folded her hands together to stop them from shaking.

  Wrapping an arm around her, I gave Noelle a quick hug. Stepping away, I started to study Grace. Just like in her workout, she was showing maturity beyond her years. Neither the other fractious fillies, nor the screaming crowd penetrated her inner being. She exuded poise and confidence.

  Less than five minutes later, I was boosted up into the saddle. Tuning in to the pre-race warm-up, I blocked everything else out. On the track, Grace warmed up beautifully. From what I could feel, she was the horse to beat.

  At the gate, she loaded smoothly into the number seven post of nine. Noelle was very happy with that position because most of the horses were toward the inside. I could easily watch what was going on and get Grace out of trouble. Readying myself in the gate, I leaned slightly forward and stared straight through Grace's pricked ears. Hearing the last gate slam, we only had to wait a second before the bell tolled and the gates slammed open.

  Just as I expected, Grace, "gracefully" leaped out of the gate, naturally placing herself in the perfect stalking position with her tactical speed. Looking over to my left, I shifted her inside, seeing that the coast was clear.

  Down the backstretch, we were sitting third, just behind the two front-runners. She was eager to go, but attentive to my wishes, only applying pressure on the reins to communicate to me. Glancing around, I deduced that it was a fairly moderate pace. The field was closely bunched as we neared the far turn though, I could feel the rest of the field easing up on us. To ensure racing room, I shifted Grace to the outside.

  Letting her out a notch on the far turn, she geared up for the fight. There was a definite change in her. Stretching out her neck. Grace pumped her head lower and with greater force. She almost seemed to rock back on her haunches, propelling herself forward with ever powerful thrusts.

  Her maturity and professionalism were just amazing me. As we neared the top of the stretch, I collected her a bit in readiness for acceleration I the stretch. Just then, the leader to my inside dropped off drastically. Immediately after, a filly to both the inside and outside ranged up.

  Knowing I had to go now, I gave Grace the signal to go. Even though she gave a burst of speed, the other two had momentum on their side keeping them a tenuous half-length ahead. I knew Grace would get by, but I didn't know if she would get the chance. I could just see these two inexperienced two-year-old fillies shift to close my gap. Even a slight shift could cause Grace to lose her confidence. It wasn't easy to split two horses in deep stretch.

  Trusting that grace wouldn't give up, and that the hole would stay open, I gave Grace the to-head. Pinning her ears back, lowering her head, and lengthening her stride, she seemed to square her shoulders in determination. With an explosion of speed, she bulled her way between the pair with an eighth of a mile to go. Hitting her a couple times, we cleared the hole. In the last hundred yards, I rode her out just to keep her mind on business. We crossed the wire three lengths ahead.

  Wrapping her up, I brought her down to a jiggy walk. The outrider reached us, taking hold of the bridle to escort us to the winners' circle. Once we got in site of it, I could see Noelle, practically dancing up and down in excitement, waiting for us. I could see that she was talking to reporters, obviously singing Grace's praises.

  Entering the winners' circle, Noelle turned and beamed at me. I think she had been smiling like that for at least ten minutes. And…for the next ten minutes, it was total chaos! Hugging Noelle, the picture, weighing in, an interview, and random slaps on the back.

  I almost couldn't wait for time to myself. Finally, it came, but not until I was out of sight in the corner of Longshot's stall. Really, I'm so glad to win, but I'm not much of a partier. Too much fuss in my opinion. They should be having a party with the horse, not me. I was just a passenger.

  For half an hour, Longshot and I rested in companionable silence. Then, he aroused from his half-asleep stupor to prick his ears toward the door. Glancing toward Longshot's closed door, I watched the top half slowly open.

  Lucero's head poked inside surveying Longshot to make sure he was comfortable before he left for the evening. In the semi-darkness, he failed to notice me up against the wall.

  When his head disappeared, the door only closed halfway before it whipped open again. Lucero looked straight at me and said, "Why didn't you say something?"

  Instead of answering I countered, "You rally need to be more observant."

  Giving me a cross look, he opened the bottom door, came in, closed everything, and say down beside me. For a while, we sat in quiet silence just watching Longshot loaf about in his stall. Clearing his throat, he thought a moment before speaking.

  "That was a nice race on Graceful Minuette. The press are talking about how you could make a triple sweep this weekend. All you have to do is win the Futurity and the Jockey Club Gold Cup…"

  Again, he was silent for a while. I felt like I was supposed to read his mind. Men!

  Taking a stab in the dark, I said, "So, did you want to talk about the races tomorrow or anything?"

  Glancing toward me, he gave me a rather blank look…"Wha? Oh, it doesn't matter. You know what to do, unless you have a question?"

  Shaking my head now, I waited for him to say something, but he continued to sit in silence. We really didn't have to say anything to each other. Just to be able to relax and let the world pass by was enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For once in my life, I was a little nervous. It seemed that there was so much more pressure. Even though everyone said there wasn't any more pressure, that wasn't true. Once you become a little successful, everyone expects you to never fail again…even though success can't last forever.

  In the paddock for the Champagne, Cage Fighter was being his usual feisty self. There was a light sheen of sweat over his muscled black body as he jigged around the paddock, every once in a while kicking out with his back legs. Whenever he passed the rail, the people seemed to ooh and aah in admiration.

  "Rider's up!" echoed through the paddock. Cage Fighter approached, and Lucero moved to give me a leg up, easily boosting me up.

  Gathering my reins, I quietly surveyed the crowd, collecting my thoughts and absentmindedly smiling at fans.

  On the track, Cage Fighter was acting like a gentleman, not bothering other horses and not being bothered by them. Some of the others, though, couldn't stop misbehaving. They were constantly swinging their butts around, squealing, and biting the lead pony. Really, it was a rather immature group.

  Surprisingly, when the group reached the gate, most became fairly calm, and were loaded with ease. Cage Fighter also proved to be little problem and once in, stood quietly, waiting for his chance to shine.

  Within seconds, the bell tolled and the gates slammed open. All, except a couple, sprinted out of the gate in a mad stampede. Rush hour on the backstretch was a more realistic term. Taking a firm hold of Cage Fighter, I eased him back from the mad rush.

  All I could see was a big group of snorting, pounding animals, on the verge of self destruction. Down the backside, there was little to no positioning.

  Nearing the far turn, the speed duel was beginning to take its toll on some of the youngsters. Several drifted back and separated themselves from the front group. Navigating toward the outside, I allowed Cage Fighter to pass them on his own. Under his own power, he breezed past the other tiring colts. As we rounded the far turn, the leaders continued to blister out the fast fractions.

  Chirping, I asked Cage Fighter for his next gear. We closed a bit more on the leaders. Glancing back, I saw a couple very confident jockeys who had used "my" strategy and restrained their mounts to pass tiring foes to win the race. Arthur spotted me and gave me a little smirk.

  Redirecting my attention back towards the front, I felt that Cage Fighter was still striding smoothly and had some gas left in the tank. At the top of the stretch, we were four wide when I asked him for full speed. Accelerating, he fluidly
switched leads and opened a three length advantage.

  Now, I just had to hope the run didn't take too much out of him. I wasn't even sure if two-year-olds were meant to make a big sweeping move and hold on to win. It was hard for any horse, much less a two-year-old at Belmont Park.

  Cage Fighter and I continued to hold the front, albeit five-wide, but we were there. Urging him on, I gave him a couple firm slaps on the rump. I knew my challengers would come flying on the inside. He accelerated and flattened out well for me, but the big run on the turn had taken something out of him.

  On my inside, the assault began. Two colts burst up on the inside. Arthur looked over at me, vigorously riding his colt. Riding Cage Fighter harder, he was able to maintain a half-length advantage. Every time one of the other colts accelerated, Cage Fighter did too, so that he was always in front. Straining every last step, he reached for the wire and crossed it first.