Daybreak at Inglewood Park - Part 4

Original article written by The Steward posted 11 years 4 weeks ago

Wednesday marked the last day of turf training before the tracks would close early both Thursday and Friday. All those who were running in a grassy Steward’s Cup race had an open invitation to train from 10-10:30 in the morning. Matthew McMahon’s pair of Triller and Tingles hit the track together, jogging and galloping with big, bouncy strides over the lush green turf.

“I wish it looked more like the course back home in England,” Amanda O’Brien complained, eyeing the short clipped, hard grass. “Or anywhere else in the world except here in the States.”

“I agree,” Cleo Patra lamented, watching how her mare Limitation took to the grass. “In Australia the grass always looks lovely. Here it looks like concrete.”

“Don’t diss the best coast,” Emma Lochran said firmly. Although she had no interest in the turf course condition as her lone Steward’s Cup entrant ran on dirt, she was not a fan of hearing griping about her home state.

Despite the fact that Limitation was galloping around the turn and up towards the five-furlong marker, photographers wheeled around upon hearing the approach of Bob Oliva’s mare Rockstaroftomorrow. The undefeated filly was set to take on a strong field in the Filly and Mare Turf.

“She’s gotta be second choice, right?” Amanda asked. “Behind Alysse’s horse?”

“You would think,” Cleo agreed, “but my girl my surprise them. She’s only a quarter length away from having the exact same record, and the same respect!”

The last group of horses on the turf course included Hope Bentley’s brilliant homebred Held High, Max Winterson’s game old mare How to Success, and Joe Smitt’s juvenile filly Ring Around Rosie.

“Looking fantastic!” Cleo called to Hope, as her colt moved effortlessly over the grass.

“Thanks, I’m so nervous!” Hope confessed.

“Don’t be,” Amanda groaned. “You’re going to be lucky if you’re fourth or fifth choice in that race. That’s the perfect place to be, not the favorite and not a longshot!”

--

Happy Trails leaned her cheek gently against the forehead of lovely roan mare, Charades. The mare sighed softly, expelling a whuff of air through her nostrils.

“Are you making out with that horse?” Fogell McLovin asked loudly, walking down the aisle leading his colt Spiderman.

“We’re just having a quiet moment,” Happy muttered, irritated at the interruption. “You should try it some time.”

“My quiet moment came when I was sitting around in the office at home planning the mating of his dam to Jaser,” Fogell said sarcastically. “I had an epiphany, and poof, now I have Spiderman.”

“He could win,” Happy said conciliatorily.

“I know!” Fogell said proudly. “My only fear is that he’s on a pattern. Win, loss, win, loss, and he won last out.”

“That’s why you need a backup plan,” Doug Kidwell said, appearing from behind the webbing of his one entrant’s stall. “Or should I say, Backup Plan? My filly won, lost, and then won just like yours. I hope she wins again, but the backup plan is two preps next year to get the win and loss out of the way before the Oaks.”

“That just hurt my head,” Happy complained. Doug bowed.

--

She might not have the best record of any horse on the grounds, and she certainly hadn’t cost the most, but Gerry Hardie suspected that No Alleluia might be the most attractive filly on the backside. She walked with exceeding grace, and the way the late-morning breeze ruffled her mane made his heart stop.

She was bred to get even better as time went on, but that hadn’t stopped her from being a grade 1 winner already as a mere three-year-old. Gerry knew he could get more for her now than the $6 million he’d paid two years ago, but he doubted he would ever sell.

“Because you’re so pretty,” he said aloud to the filly, who dropped her exquisite head to graze. “And because you’re going to be a nice momma some day.”

“You’re lucky you get another year or two with her,” Carolyn Eaton lamented, joining him outside the barn. “This is the last dance for Flightful.”

“Yes but just think about the lovely Flightful foal you will have out in the fields in a year,” he said soothingly. “Another filly to keep the family alive!”

“I am excited about that,” Carolyn admitted. “There’s nothing like seeing a new group of babies born each year; one more thing to look forward to!”

--

Afternoon schooling opened at noon and lasted throughout the race day. The first race schoolers filed in line behind the small claiming field. They included Steward’s Cup entrants A Darker Day for Andy Gold, his Juvenile Turf rival City of David for Julie Kluesener, and the leggy bay son of Believe the Hype Kobe, a Kenneth Gordon-trainee.

Steward’s Cup fans that had taken earlier flights crowded the rails and snapped photos of the schoolers, often calling out and asking who the horses were.

“Can’t they figure out how to look up markings on their own?” Andy complained.

“Too much effort,” Julie grumbled, just before someone yelled, “Julie! Julie! Who is that!” “You would think I’d have ten horses entered,” she groaned, “but I only have the one! Pick up an overnight!”

Kobe skittered nervously throughout the ring, his nostrils flaring and his mane bouncing back. Kenneth himself took the lead shank from the groom and placed one hand on the colt’s shoulder. “Settle, big guy, this is only the beginning,” he whispered.

Thirty minutes later, the whistle blew and they were to leave the ring and allow the next set of schoolers to arrive. Benny James’ Maximize led the way, followed by Iggy Timeeczech’s Aerobatics and John Arzuaga’s Bus Ticket. The chorus of cries from the paddock rails started all over again.

--

“Who do you think left the gift in Emily’s tack box?” Anna Leroux asked the small group gathered in the racing office. They were picking up overnight sheets from the racing secretary.

“Don’t you know?” Karen Shields asked, incredulous. “I thought everyone knew!”

“Even I remember,” Brenden Marcotte admitted, scanning his sheet. “But no one is supposed to tell, right?”

“I don’t think I was in on it… oh! No! I remember,” Anna lit up. “Sheesh, that all started like four months ago, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s when I first heard about it,” Karen affirmed. “I think that was right after the penguin thing was announced.”

“I wish I’d thought it up,” Brenden said. “It’s been fun to see her going crazy!”

--

And crazy Emily was indeed, as Wednesday night had fallen and she still had no idea who had left the gift. She had harassed Melissa Mae and Angus Clab as they stood grazing their horses in the dying sun. She had followed Leigh Ann Anderson around, convinced that she had been the one until Kyasuriin Matsumoto stepped in and chased her away. “You’re acting crazy!” Kya snapped. “Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

That left Emily down to very few people who could have given the gift. She strongly suspected Larry Burndorf had had nothing to do it. While she had a decent business relationship with him and loved his stallion Triumph, she wasn’t sure they would ever be close pals. LaDonna King had so many horses she doubted she could afford such a thing, although LaDonna’s quarter-century of fame had left her with a sizeable bank account. That left Lee Cara and Megan Grant, both of whom Emily liked quite a bit, but neither who seemed the gifting type.

On Thursday morning, hours before the first Steward’s Cup race, she was willing to concede defeat. “But why?” she begged of Ricky Bobby, who was walking with her through the grandstand.

“Why not?” Ricky said simply. “Did you even appreciate the gift? It was a great one, right?”

“It was,” Emily confirmed. “Is!”

“Then why don’t you just enjoy it instead of having a meltdown over a surprise. Everyone loves a surprise. You don’t have to reciprocate every time.”

Emily sighed. “I know. You’re right. It’s just weird to not be able to ‘fight back’ per say.”

“And how do you know it was just one person?” Ricky asked smartly. “It was worth quite a bit, it could be a collaboration.”

“I didn’t even think of that!” Emily said, her eyes wide. “Maybe I should go back around and…”

“No! You should get up to your booth, study up on silks and horse names, and get ready for the 32nd Steward’s Cup,” Ricky said firmly. “Two long days ahead, and then the winter of getting your mares planned out and bred, and getting the two-year-olds ready for the sale… You’ll be too busy to worry about this anyway. Just don’t forget to go to the thing on Saturday night!”

“Thanks,” Emily said, hugging her friend quickly. “But not for the reminder about my mares. That makes me want to cry!”

They laughed and parted ways at the elevator.

The End

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