Feature Race | Auction | Breeding | General | Hall of Fame | Harness | Interviews | Mixed Breed | New Players | Racing | Site Updates | Steeplechasing | Steward's Cup | Triple Crown

Daybreak In New Jersey - Part 2

Original article written by The Steward posted 15 years 0 weeks ago

Jolene Danner opened one eye and checked the clock: 5:00. She snuggled back down in her blankets, warm and drifting back to sleep almost immediately. Then she frowned and bolted upright. A small lump – Michelle Calderoni – was concealed beneath the duvet beside her. “Michelle…” Jolene hissed and shook the blanketed form firmly. “Michelle! Wake up! Did you turn the alarm off?”

“Hrrm?” Michelle mumbled, not stirring at all.

“It’s 5:00! We’re supposed to be at the track already! Did you turn the alarm off?”

Michelle sat up slowly, considering. “It was set for 4:00 right?” Jolene nodded frantically in the dark.

Michelle nodded in admission. “Yes…it was loud. I turned it off.”

“Aaarrrgghh!” Jolene leapt out of bed and started to dig in her suitcase for jeans. Michelle turned on the light and stepped out of the bed onto the pillow of Steph Wilder, who was curled up on a mat on the floor.

“Your foot is awfully close to my head,” Steph commented sleepily, rolling over and facing the other way.

“Get up!”Michelle urged her. “We’re sooo late!”

Outside the hotel lobby, Amy Schmidt and Brianna McKenzie were waiting on a stone wall. “About time!” Bri snapped, leaping up. “I’m renting my own car next time!”

“Your cell phones were off, you didn’t answer your room phone…” Amy added. “We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago!”

Jolene turned to Michelle as they piled into her rented SUV. “Michelle, did you turn off the room phone too?!”

“That one is all me,” Steph admitted. “I knew we hadn’t set a wake up call on it so I turned it off in case some people tried to call…” her voice trailed off.

One silent, irritated car ride later and the five women arrived at Garden State Park. It was still dark out, but the sun was threatening to burst over the horizon, splaying red rays in every direction.

Their horses were stabled in the centrally located barn for shippers, sandwiched in between the Eric Nalbone and Mallory Claire barns. Mallory’s barn looked clean, but comfortingly it also looked like a barn: leg wraps were unraveled and tossed on the ground, bags of ice melted slowly on the ground, and one lone groom stood outside, lacking a shirt and smoking a cigarette. Mallory Claire herself, a popular and outgoing trainer from California, leaned against the doorway, her back to the setlist behind her, talking animatedly with Emily Thompson, whose Giant Risk was being stabled in Mallory’s barn for the week.

Nalbone’s barn was a frightening contrast. If not for the occasional handsome, hard-muscled and dappled Thoroughbred striding in or out of the doorway, it would be almost impossible to tell that any activity happened in the barn at all. Before each set, the group of five or six horses lined up for inspection by Nalbone, who was already sporting slacks and a dress shirt (and a tie!) at 5:30 in the morning. Not a single sponge was out of place, and pale awnings hid the stalls from outside view. A swarm of media had gathered outside the barn, hoping to catch Nalbone for an interview.

The barn that housed most of the shippers included about 14 different trainers, each of whom had two to four stalls each. Jolene Danner found her pony tacked and tied to the stall wall, her first set (a filly named Lore who would be competing in the Distaff) already circling the shed. Four stalls down, Amy Schmidt moved sharply to one side, avoiding the gnashing teeth of the irritable and anxious Snake, a gray colt running in the Sprint.

Amy’s first set included her two Filly and Mare Sprint contenders, the dazzling chestnut Shine to Guide You and the rather plain Melee. “I thought I told you to trim her ears!” Amy barked at her barn foreman, Patrick, who grumbled something about losing an arm before disappearing into Snake’s stall.

Michelle only had two horses on the grounds, but both of them boasting huge shots in their respective races. Crystal Springs was an undefeated turf filly who was bred to get even better with age, and the popular Artillery was coming off a win in the Mid Summer Classic. A victory in the Steward’s Cup Classic over Sun Raider and Frisco Kid would likely earn him Three-year-old Champion honors. As plain and simple as could be, Artillery was a no-frills, unmarked dark bay with little personality and a lack of speed.

Brianna rested her hands on the muzzle of a loving two-year-old gray filly, Wished. Undefeated in three starts, Wished was one of the favorites for the Juvenile Fillies Sprint. Known for her blistering speed and determination on the front end of the race, Wish was nothing if not angelic in the barn. The filly turned sweet, soulful eyes on Brianna’s pocket, hoping for candy. Brianna obliged.

Steph had no horses in the Steward’s Cup this year, but her stable was firing at such an intense rate, Steph knew it was only a matter of time. While on break from college, she was running between her four friends, helping get shipping documents, entry forms, and overdue accounts in order.

Amy Schmidt followed Melee and Shine To Guide You to the track, turning left out of the barn and following an oft-traveled path up behind the clubhouse onto the backstretch chute. The two fillies jogged off together, matching strides for most of the first quarter mile. Jolene Danner followed shortly thereafter on her pony, Lore’s head resting on her thigh. Lore had one of those long, angular faces typical of foreign-bred fillies, complete with a tiny white triangle on her head. However, Lore was not foreign-bred at all, but New York bred.

Scott Pho leaned against the rail at the gap in a yellow and black polo shirt. His lovely miler filly Semper Fi jogged by, preparing to stretch out in the Juvenile Fillies. He waved at Jolene and Amy before leading his filly off the track.

Shine to Guide You pulled up first, Melee a good twenty seconds later. Lore was almost as plain as Melee, but she looked sound and solid passing the three-quarter pole and finishing up her mile gallop. Jolene mentally admitted that’s all any Steward’s Cup trainer could ask for this week: sound and solid.

**

A little after 6:00 am, Emily Thompson stood quietly in the paddock underneath a massive, ancient tree, watching Layyourarmordown make a few easy rounds, his rider leaning back and gently swatting the lazy horse on the flanks. Last year’s upset winner of the Dirt Mile, Layyourarmordown had run several decent – and one winning – races this year. He had six wins but almost $2 million in earnings. Somehow, the colt wasn’t even the best horse in Thompson’s small barn, that honor went to the star Distaffer Giant Risk.

Layyourarmordown walked through the tunnel and Emily followed him, examining the sway in the horse’s stride. Horse after horse rushed past the wire across from the tunnel’s exit, all adorned in purple saddle towels marked with the Steward’s Cup logo.

Mike Prevost was mounted on his palomino Quarter Horse pony, leaning back with his legs hooked up over the horn of the saddle. He smiled and nodded in Emily Thompson’s direction, then turned his eyes back to the wire where Puzzle Pieces, a tiny dark bay filly with a diamond between her eyes, blazed home in her last preparations for the Filly and Mare Sprint. Worth My Weight, a plucky little black colt, followed in an easy canter in the middle of the track. Layyourarmordown followed in a collected gallop.

A little white mist had settled around the track, and the sky had grown spotty with gray clouds. “Hope it doesn’t rain,” Emily Thompson commented out loud to no one.

“No joke,” Laura Pony agreed, standing on the track in jeans and a t-shirt, holding a compact bay, Left Hand, by the rail. Left Hand rested comfortably on three legs, his right hind cocked under his body. He was coming into the Turf Dash off an eight week layoff, an almost impossible feat, but Left Hand’s sire, Right Hand Man, had been a freak turf sprinter and Pony’s best horse to date.

Thompson collected Layyourarmordown and followed him around the clubhouse turn and off the chute gap. A rooster scooted out of the way and ‘Armor danced a little bit, tossing his black mane. The rooster crowed in response.

**

Desert Wind rocketed off the turn and rushed into the stretch, her tiny legs whipping at the dirt, kicking it up in clouds behind her. The rider pumped and chirped while trainer Jonathan Pac shook his head in frustration. Desert Wind had everything that could possibly be desired in a racehorse: an unbelievable pedigree, a host of stakes wins, and intense heart and determination. She continued past the wire, galloping strongly into the clubhouse turn.

Desert Wind was the filly who could save Pac’s stable. Struggling since the retirement of superstar Adjust the Lens, Pac had struck gold with Desert Wind. She had only earned back 25% of her $2 million purchase price, but her pedigree suggested she would be a star broodmare.

The Steward’s Cup Distaff promised to be one of the best races of the day. As of Tuesday it was oversubscribed with 15 entries, and despite her four-race win streak earlier in the year, Desert Wind would be a longshot in the race.

“’Mornin, Jon!”fellow trainer Matthew McMahon called from his pony, posting on his way by, the three-year-old turf sprinter Auto Brake attached via a leadline.

“Yo, Matthew!”Jonathan called back, walking off the track and back to the barn with Desert Wind.

A crowd of reporters were waiting impatiently outside of Barn 16, waiting for the four-year-old international superstar Ease to exit the barn. Trainer Ara Davies stood outside of the barn answering questions from reporters, decked out in a pink leather jacket dotted with rhinestones and pink boots to match. Ease finally appeared from the barn, a tall but compact bay with a white diamond and snip. His blue bridle and green saddle cloth matched the colors of New River Farm, where he was broken, trained, and wintered each year.

Cameras started to snap excitedly as the Turf Sprint favorite headed up the steep path to the track. Twelve wins in fourteen starts was an impressive record for any horse, but especially awesome for a four-year-old who was just as good, if not better, than he had been as a younger horse.

“Ms. Davies, after being the best breeder of routers in history, how does it feel to be training a sprinter?” a reporter from the Garden State Gazette asked.

“Turf sprinters are wonderful,” Ara answered simply, walking more briskly to keep up with Ease’s powerful stride.

“Will you be buying more turf sprinters in the future?”a girl from the Lexington Herald asked.

“Girls, to breed to Ease, obviously,” Ara rolled her eyes without turning her head away from the reporter. Ease strutted away from the crowd on the backstretch, his neck arched and his hindquarters strong. “Look at him, he’s a handsome boy,” Ara grinned, no longer feeling irritated. “I can’t wait to bring him home and introduce him to his new girlfriends.”

Ease was as cool and quiet as horses came. After galloping he pulled up at the gap and stood quietly, the breeze ruffling his black mane slightly. Ease checked out the grandstand and the other horses passing, including the solid two-year-old colt Home at Last for Chris Carman.

“Come on, Ease, let’s go,” Ara prompted, tugging on the colt’s head. Ease remained rooted to the ground, enjoying his last days on the racetrack.



Back to Steward's Cup articles

Copyright © 2024 SIMHorseRacing.com | Legal