by Mike Rogers
For the rest of the day and next couple of weeks, I fell into a routine in the Lucero camp. I'd exercise in the morning and ride in the afternoon. Soon, the time was approaching to select Longshot's next race.
Chapter Seven
Entering the office, Lucero beckoned for me to sit down. "I have a couple things I want to discuss. First, you know Longshot better than anyone else. Looking at the stakes races for the next two weeks, which do you believe would be in his best interest?"
I picked up an entry pamphlet and started to flip through it. Pausing, I said, "What about the Suburban or Hollywood Gold Cup? Personally, I think the major goal before the Breeder's Cup should be the Pacific Classic and hen the Jockey Club Gold Cup." Blanching, Lucero said, "Isn't that a pretty hefty schedule?"
Confidently, "Longshot can handle it. He'll thrive off the work!"
"We'll see," Lucero said, not looking quite convinced. "I already have Gambit in the Suburban so I think the Hollywood Gold Cup would be best. I just hope Longshot can handle Grade One competition."
"Don't worry about that! So what's next on the agenda?"
"I hope you're ready for a lot of flying time. You'll be riding Countdown in the Haskell Invitational, Gambit in the Suburban, and Cage Fighter in the Ellis Park Futurity-" Lucero was about to continue, but I stopped him.
"There's more?" I said amazed.
"Yes, that's just the schedule for the next two weeks. After that you'll be taking a week reprieve in Europe riding a couple of my best grass horses." He said this all quite calmly as if I shouldn't be shocked at going to Europe.
"Europe?! American trainers never send their horses to Europe!"
"I plan to change that. I want to see for myself if European horses are so superior. American horses are just as good as the Europeans. It's the racing establishment that's the problem. I've studied the European methods carefully and in a few weeks I'll see if it's worked." Apparently, Lucero was only getting himself warmed up. "I'm tired of getting wisecracks that American don't know how to train on turf. Even though some may not. Some-"
"Ok. Ok. I get the picture!" I said cutting him short. "Is the Hollywood Gold Cup this weekend or next? I'd like to know the exact order these races will be."
"All right," Lucero said turning and grabbing the calendar. "The Hollywood Gold cup is Saturday. The Suburban, Sunday. Next week, the Futurity on Saturday and the Haskell, Sunday. Then, you'll leave the following Wednesday for England." He looked up, "That enough ahead of schedule for you?"
Feeling a little overwhelmed, "Yeah, that's fine.but, why don't you get a European rider? They'll know the track." I was looking forward to this answer.
"Because.I know you're the right person for the job. You'll figure it out in no time." I didn't like his answer, but decided to not push the issue.
Chapter Eight
The week leading up to the Gold Cup and Suburban went smoothly. I was starting to fall into a groove each day. First, get to the track at 6:30 AM. Exercise horses until nine. Look over the races until twelve. Have a light lunch. Head over to the jocks' room for the first race or whichever race I ride first. Then, after the races, stop by to see Longshot, get supper, go home, and sleep. That week, for the first time in a long time, I realized I was having fun.
Hollywood Gold Cup day dawned clear and hot. The weatherman predicted the temperature to reach ninety-five degrees. At six-thirty sharp, I entered the barn. I noticed that everyone seemed to be moving a little slower than usual. Sighing I thought, 'The heat must be getting to them.' Bounding down the aisle, I clapped Harry on the back. "How ya doin'?"
Turning around and glaring at me, "How can you be so cheerful when it's already eighty degrees?.Wait, don't answer that.I remember you thrive off the heat." Shaking his head, he shuffled down the aisle.
With a kidding note to my voice, I called, "I hope your manner doesn't rub off on the horses or we're not winning any races today!" Glancing down the aisle, I spotted Longshot being let out of his stall for his race day gallop. Jogging down the aisle, I caught up with him. "Thanks, Matt," I said taking the reins from the groom.
Once out of the barn, I jumped on the horse. Even though it was hot, Longshot caught onto my excitement and started to prance. Again, I reflected on how healthy he had become. When we reached the track, Lucero called out to me, "Just a short gallop. It's really hot."
Nodding my consent, Longshot glided onto the track. I thought, 'To bad the race isn't this morning. He'd blow them away right now.' Before I knew it, the short gallop was over and we walked off the track. I hopped off and Lucero motioned for me to come over.
He started, "I need your help."
"My help? What for?" I couldn't understand why he needed my help with anything, except riding that is.
"Please," he murmured, "Here me out. I'm sure you know about the yearling sale in Kentucky, right? The Rogers want me to buy a yearling for them, but there is no way I can make it to that sale."
"What does that have to do with me?" I said half irritated, half confused look on my face.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he continued, "You see. They won't let my assistant trainer go in my place. So. I suggested that you would pick out their yearling." I was stunned into speechlessness. "Consequently, they loved the idea." Because I didn't respond, he went on, a little more confidently this time, "So, I'm taking you off your mounts next Monday through Thursday to go to the sale and find the Rogers a nice yearling or two."
That's when I decided to cut him down. "You're taking me off my mounts just like that," I snapped. "Just like that!" I almost yelled. "What are you trying to do?! Make me go broke!" I stopped, taking heaving breaths as I tried to regain control.
By this time, Lucero was looking right at me, a look of panic on his face. He had misunderstood my earlier silence, believing that it was acceptance. "Now look," he said trying to make things better, "You're not going to go broke. I would never put you through that again. You'll get a commission for the horses you buy. Don't worry, everything has been covered." He was gripping my shoulders and a pleading note had come into his eyes.
Silence had come over me over his puzzling explanation. 'What did he mean?' I decided to agree to the trip. Never in my whole life had I seen Lucero so relieved.
Quickly, so this part of the conversation could end, he said, "Don't worry about it until tomorrow night. Really, it won't be that bad."
Sighing, I turned and walked towards the barns. Halfway there, I spotted Arthur Baca. I hurried over. "Arthur!" I called, "Do you have a minute?"
He stopped, waiting for me to continue.
"I need to ask you a question and you need to answer truthfully.Do you know anything about why Lucero took me off my mounts all those years ago? I was thinking you might know because you took my place."
Arthur responded a little too fast for my taste. "I have no idea. I was told to ride those horses so I did." Soon after, he made an excuse to leave.
I thought, 'Someday I'm going to find out why. Something weird happened and I'm going to figure it out.'
* * *
I banished all troubling thoughts from my mind to concentrate on my races that day. The only two important ones were the Swaps and the Hollywood Gold Cup. In the Swaps, I was riding the up and coming colt, Mister Rodney. He was a son of Attorney and out of Detech by Caltech. Everyone had doubted his ability to be a good horse because of his pedigree. So far he proved the skeptics wrong every time. During Rodney's early career, Lucero had taken it easy. He didn't race until December of his two-year-old year. Showing that he appreciated the late start, Rodney blasted the competition by ten lengths. Lucero, looking at the history of the parents, decided to bypass the Triple Crown. Why destroy a good horse that will probably get better with age.
Lucero sent Rodney to Florida to get ready. In February, he finished a respectable third in distinguished allowance company. Then, he raced in early April against older horses over a mile and an eighth, just getting up for the place spot late in the race after
having traffic trouble. Lucero decided the race was good enough to merit a try in stakes company. The Sir Barton, on Preakness Day was chosen. From back in the pack, Rodney closed to win by a nose.
Because of his gutsy win, there was a lot of pressure to run him in the Belmont. Lucero refused to even consider it and gave the colt a break. The Swaps would be Rodney's first race back. Lucero told me that the colt should run well, but he was not sure he would win.
Now, on to the Hollywood Gold Cup. As far as I could tell, Longshot had never been better. Both Lucero and I were confident of out chances. Everyone else did not agree. The favorite was World Crusher who had just won the Stephan Foster. He was a five-year-old son of Macho Uno, an up and coming sire, as his foals got older.
A couple of hours later, I was in the paddock for the Grade Two Swaps. Rodney looked superb in the paddock. One of his best attributes was his calm personality in the most stressing situations. That day was a got ninety-degree day in southern California. Rodney, being the smart horse he was, walked calmly and slowly, conserving his energy.
When we reached the gate, Rodney loaded in quietly. Lucero's instructions were to keep him clear and in mid-pack. He had a long powerful kick that worked best when he was in the clear. Just after the last horse loaded, the gates slammed open.
Rodney broke alertly and allowed me to settle him on the outside in about sixth of ten. I could tell immediately that the pace was slow. There were three leaders just loafing around the clubhouse turn. I decided to wait because Rodney was running so easily. It wasn't worth the risk to take him out of his game and then lose.
Upon entering the backstretch, I floated the colt to the outside to see if he would pass any on his own. When he seemed content, I clucked an encouraged him to pass the two horses directly to the inside. Switching gears, Rodney eased past gaining speed. As the field rounded the far turn, Rodney was fourth, five lengths behind and slowly gaining.
I started to scrub because even though we were gaining speed, he would need a huge burst to overtake the front-runners who had been happy to just loaf along. Rodney was running exactly like Lucero had said, steady acceleration. At the head of the stretch, he switched gears again, showing two lengths off the lead.
I did not ride him extremely hard knowing that this was only a pep race so he would not have the same kick. At the eighth pole, we were one length away and closing the gap. Twenty yards from the wire, Rodney hit high gear and stormed toward the leaders. Too bad it was not enough time to close the ground. We crossed the wire a head behind in second.
Just after the wire, Rodney pulled ahead. If the race had been a mile and a quarter, he would have been five lengths ahead. The horse could run all day! When I talked to Lucero after the race, he seemed pleased with the way Rodney ran. He felt the race would set him up perfectly for the Travers.
Heading to the jockey's room, I changed into the silks for the Hollywood Gold Cup. Going into the main room, Arthur Baca came up to me saying that I rode a good ride, acknowledging the fact that he would have been a goner if the race were any longer.
Sitting down beside me, he asked, "What do you think of your chances in the Gold Cup?"
Laughing, I said, "What? Do you think you'll beat me? Even though you are riding the favorite, I think not!" For the next few minutes, we laughed and joked. We headed down to the paddock for the call.
The minute Longshot spotted me, he let out a loud whinny. The sharp sound was so sudden that the horses nearest to him jumped and wouldn't settle down for at least five minutes. When I reached Longshot, I shushed him quietly.
Smiling to himself, Lucero said, "You know what to do." Boosting me up in the saddle, he murmured, "Good luck."
As we headed toward the track, I had all the confidence in the world. He felt even better than before the Nashua. He warmed up easily and loaded quietly in the gate. His muscles tensed just before the gates opened.
Breaking sharply, Longshot settled himself just behind the leaders. We were sitting in the three path approaching the clubhouse turn. Glancing to my left, I met the eyes of Henry Grim. Just by looking at his eyes, I realized he was going to try to float me out on the turn. Not worrying about anything else, I concentrated on keeping Longshot steady and toward the rail. Entering the turn, I took a tight hold on the left rein.
Ignoring Henry, I glanced back to see where Arthur was. He was in his regular spot in the back of the pack. My attention was rudely drawn back by the smack and buffeting of horse hitting horse.
Henry yelled at me, "I can't control him! He's trying to go to the outside rail!"
He was so false! I was not blind! You see, his left rein was flapping in the wind, while the right rein was taunt! I screamed at him, "Halssman, you're full of crap!" Turning away from him, I studied Longshot's reaction to the buffeting.
Ears pinned back, he was not happy, but putting up with it. By now, we were halfway through the backstretch and he pace was starting to pick up. Letting Longshot out a notch, I breezed past Henry yelling, "So long!"
Glancing behind me, I saw Arthur making steady progress. I knew that he would be flying at the end. If worse came to worse, Longshot could hold on with grit. We breezed into the far turn a length and a half behind. Knowing I could pounce on the leaders at anytime, I glanced behind me to locate Arthur and World Crusher.
They were a whole lot closer than I estimated. Arthur was two lengths back and gaining, with a smile on his face. Grimacing to myself, I gave Longshot more rain hoping to get the jump on Arthur. Halfway around the turn, I was sitting pretty a half-length on the outside of the leaders. I looked back again and spotted Arthur easily. A length behind, he was waiting for the perfect chance to pounce.
Deciding to go now, I gave Longshot the cue. Blowing past the leaders, we took the lead at the head of the stretch. Longshot had some gas left in the tank. Maybe the buffeting took more out of him than expected. Looking back I saw Arthur flying up toward me.
Popping Longshot on the shoulder, I asked for more speed. I could hear World Crusher right on my heels. Starting to ride Longshot harder, I glanced over at the other horse's head beside my hip. Glancing at Arthur, I saw that his face was still confident.
Smirking at Arthur, I yelled, "Your never winning!" Reaching back, I slapped Longshot a couple times left-handed and hand rode him the rest of the way. Digging down, Longshot gutted out the last sixteenth of a mile to cross the wire a half-length ahead.
Chapter Nine
The reporters were all over me the minute I hopped off of Longshot. The asked all sorts of questions. Like, what it felt like to be on top again and if I thought I could stay that way. Lucero fielded all the questions including my career. I was only allowed to answer those involving the race.
It was really fun, talking to the reporters about my exact strategy. I hadn't gotten that much attention since the controversy about my downfall. Back in the jock's room, I ran into Arthur Baca. Tapping him on the shoulder, I said, "So…who has the best horse now?"
A laughing note in his eyes, he replied, "You my have won the battle, but you haven't won the war"
Laughing, I walked away. That evening, I had time to reflect on the past day's events. Until that week, I hadn't realized how much my slump impacted me. I was much more worried about my financial status.
The next morning, I went straight to Lucero's office. I needed to know when my plane was due to take off. Knocking on the door, I walked inside Briefly looking up from his paperwork, he started to rummage around his desk.
Finding the envelope, he handed it to me. "In here are two plane tickets. One for 10 AM this morning and the other for 9 PM tonight."
Nodding, I walked out of the office and toward Longshot's stall. Sticking his head over the partition Longshot nickered as I approached. Petting him, I spotted Matt, his regular groom walking towards me. "He ate up last night, right?" I knew what his answer would be, but wanted to hear it anyway.
"Yep, licked the tub clean and begged for more."
Giv
ing Longshot one last pat, I decided to get ready to go to New York.
