Life with Rosie

by Helen Thomas

  The feeling seems to be that if he can turn that boy around, what won’t he be able to do with a brand new baby? The good thing, too, is that this group of owners has no desire to rush the yearling. Much as we all would love to win a $3 million race like the Golden Slipper in Sydney, or even the $1 million Blue Diamond in Melbourne, all involved seem to understand that is not part of the equation. We are in this for the longer haul.

  Having speedy youngsters performing well early in life is no doubt thrilling and that’s certainly how Australian racing is promoted and financially geared these days, with buyers paying astronomical prices for yearlings bred to fly for a year or two and then retire. But most horses who race so early don’t continue much past the age of three, usually because the impact on their young bones is so great they develop problems in their legs before they reach maturity. And that is not what any one of us wants for Rosie.

  A cold, light rain is falling over Cranbourne Racecourse as I arrive for track work. It’s almost the end of winter, just two days after the official birthday of all horses born in the southern hemisphere, which means Rosie is officially a two year old, although her actual birth date is still a good two months away. As I walk towards the stalls where Robbie’s horses are stabled every morning, I can see her standing in a stall midway along the row, rugged-up and relaxed in pre-trainer designated area.

  She is waiting for her morning work to start and as it’s not yet 6.30 am, is still quite sleepy, though happy enough to look for a sweetie or two in my coat pockets before her ears go back in characteristic fashion, when she has had enough socialising. That is it; she makes it clear there is work to be done. I am amazed at her poise, her matter-of-fact attitude about being here amidst the daily bustle of racing life, the hustle of a routine that is at once mundane, yet always laced with expectation and an undertow of concern.

  Horses can reveal great potential as they wheel around the track in the early morning darkness, just as they can damage themselves in the dawn’s light.

  Rosie stretches up and then out, her body lengthening underneath the rug protecting her from the relentless Melbourne drizzle, and pushes back on first her front and then back legs, like a huge cat getting up from a nap. As I stand quietly by her side, I study the transformation that has occurred in the young horse in the past three months. Even under her protective gear, it is quite clear the filly has grown taller even since I saw her four weeks ago. Perhaps most dramatically, her head has changed; she is still unmistakably Rosie, who I have known since she was 10 minutes old, with the same bright eyes and mischievous expression—but it is a fuller version, a predictive identikit come to life.

  And when the rug comes off and the saddle goes on, and exercise rider Karlene jumps aboard to take her onto the track for the morning’s slow work, the picture is complete: this is a young thoroughbred going about the work she was bred to do in professional, laidback fashion.

  ‘She won’t be doing anything much at all this morning,’ Robert Kingston tells me.

  ‘This is what we call a slow morning. The fast work’s all done on Tuesdays, but she knocked one of her front legs and the joint had a bit of heat in it, so we backed off her last week completely and will just take her up slowly again this week.’

  No doubt I look stricken at the thought of a knock to any part of her crucial front legs: ‘joint’ and ‘legs’ are two words no one likes to hear being used in a sentence when it comes to horses. But Robert just laughs as we climb the stairs to the observation tower that all trainers and their connections use to watch track work; actually, it is more office than anything, and provides welcome warmth through these long winter months.

  ‘Nothing to worry about at all,’ Robert says. ‘She probably did it in the sand roll when she was kicking her legs in the air, happens all the time, they’re like big kids. If it had been anything to be worried about, we would have tipped her out into the paddock.’

  I look out over the busy racecourse where a dozen horses are trotting and cantering on various parts of the track as the light spreads and the sun starts to come up. I search for Rosie and her exercise partner, another two-year-old filly, but not one of the youngsters Robbie bought at the sales.

  ‘There they are,’ Robert says, one hand holding a set of binoculars up to his eyes, the other pointing to the middle of this equine epicentre where, sure enough, the two girls have just emerged from the underpass at the centre of the track, and are about to start their slow canter round the dirt track.

  ‘See how relaxed your filly is?’ Robert says, a few minutes later, as we watch them canter around the side of the course. ‘She’s bowling along, calm as you like, head on her chest.’

  It is a pose she holds for the entire circumference, clearly happy within herself, and even to my eye she looks composed and strong.

  ‘She looks good,’ I venture.

  Robert agrees. ‘She’s just taking it all in stride and at this stage of her career, that’s a very good sign.’

  When she returns to the tie-up stalls, I ask Karlene how she actually felt during the work.

  ‘She felt good,’ she replies. What does that actually mean, I wonder, keen to know more about how a regular rider judges such an ordinary hit-out like that.

  ‘She just feels balanced in herself,’ Karlene replies. ‘She’s got a really good action and even though I wasn’t asking her to do much at all this morning, she just goes about everything easily within herself.’

  Robert also points out the difference in demeanour, as well as physique, in the two workmates now standing side-by-side again, their work over.

  ‘Look how the other filly is much more tucked up in her tummy and on her toes even after working,’ he says. ‘Your King of Roses filly is a much better doer and holds the condition she puts on, plus she’s not at all worried about what’s going on around her here. That’s not to say the other filly won’t run at all, or that yours will. But attitude is incredibly important.’

  He gives Rosie a pat and laughs out loud as her ears go straight back on her head.

  ‘All talk, she is,’ he says, running his hand down her chest. ‘Another thing, look how good her skin is, very healthy.’

  Robbie Griffiths agrees with all the Irish foreman has been saying over a cup of tea at his stable office.

  ‘She is thriving,’ he agrees. ‘But the thing with all these babies is you just don’t know how long any early preparation will last. Rosie’s certainly taken us a bit by surprise, because she has stayed in work much longer than we expected. For a yearling to stay up as long as she has, straight from the paddock and looking like a pony when she was at the breakers, she is doing very well.’

  But he makes clear this is not to say she will be able to keep this up for much longer, nor should we expect her to.

  ‘One morning, she could get a bit shin sore at track work, or just go off her tucker; these are the little signs we watch for with these young horses and the minute they develop, they go straight out to the paddock. She’ll tell us herself when she’s had enough, don’t worry.’

  Conversely, as Robbie has explained before, the longer Rosie can stay in work through winter, the better it is for her overall physical development. By the time she does go out for a well-earned break, spring will be just around the corner. Robbie predicts it will be another two weeks before she has had enough.

  Given how well she is going, how forward she is compared to where we thought she would be at this stage of her first preparation, it’s probably time to give her a racing name. Rosie is what we call her at home and around the stable, of course, but it’s hardly distinctive. She needs a much more significant moniker when she hits the racetrack, a stage name for her public life career. And while the Cups King and I may have mused on it 18 months ago, the time has come for my co-owners to decide on her name.

  So I call for suggestions, explaining the basic concept of naming racehorses to the uninitiated. Traditionally, it should have some connection to the names of the youngster
’s sire and dam, in this case King of Roses and Poetic Waters. It can join up parts of both their names, it can be inspired by the meaning of one or both of them, or it can have nothing whatsoever to do with lineage at all and just be a name or phrase we all like. But it must have a ring to it, a sense of purpose, a certain dignity.

  Harry’s racing name, for instance—News Just In—is a good example of one that just came to me after hours of trying to think up something that related to Express. And it has nothing to do with my being a journalist or manager of ABC NewsRadio. Most of the good expressions using the word Express have been used before and are locked away for 20 years or more in the Australian Registrar of Racehorses’ database.

  One morning as I stared at a news site on the internet and saw the column headed for the most up-to-date stories, it hit me: news just in. There it was. A catchy phrase that means ‘express news’. Perfect! So coming up with names for horses can be challenging and fun, although it sometimes proves a perplexing assignment, especially when there are a number of people involved in the process. At least Rosie’s family names give us all some room to move.

  Without reverting to the blindingly obvious—Poetic Reign the clear example—we should be able to come up with a good one. To kick things off, I throw two of my own suggestions into the ring—Rainswept and River Run. They don’t please everyone (anyone really, to be honest) and over the next month, my six co-owners add their own ideas to the list we will eventually vote on. Some have nothing to do with anything equine at all—Circular and Present Tense, for instance—and given it’s the height of the Aussie Rules season, a few footy-related names even get sent through to be ditched quietly.

  Weeks later, with the men clearly tiring of the exercise and all of us set to take a vote, a late entry takes everyone’s fancy. Pure Poetry.

  Good grief! Are they crazy? Knowing Rosie as well as I do I am aware just how inappropriate this is. For a start, it doesn’t suit her at all, and it will be extremely hard for race callers to get right in the heat of a call. She simply can’t race with this name, I think, pondering the fickle nature of small democracies. And since when do blokes want to call anything ‘pure poetry’?

  Luckily, one other co-owner doesn’t like it either, and a flurry of emails start.

  ‘My apologies for not contributing yesterday,’ Nanette writes. ‘I was stuck in casting lockdown. Hate to be a fly in the ointment, but I am not hugely fond of Pure Poetry. Having said that I will bow to group pressure.

  ‘My favourite (given none of you like my suggestion, Ode To Po) is Poetic Justice, as I feel that Po deserves some acknowledgement, as she is such a lovely mare. I also have a theory that if you pick pretty names every mug punter who punts by the sound of a name could jump on board and reduce our odds. But that’s just me …’

  Following Nanette’s entry into the fray, I write a short note admitting that I don’t like Pure Poetry much either and suggest we throw the six most preferred names into a hat and draw one out. I add, for what it’s worth, I’m now leaning towards Ocean Reign, while Fran likes River Court.

  The boys are swift and brutal in reply.

  ‘God please …’ writes Tony. ‘Anything but River Court … it sounds like a housing development put up by a shyster developer in a place that’s bound to become miserable! Or am I over-reacting?’

  Duncan responds. ‘Tony—no, you’re not over-reacting. I can see the Volvos parked in the driveways now …’

  Two funny guys, I think, who will come in handy when it comes time to make winners’ speeches!

  ‘What happens if we still don’t like the one I pull out?’ Fran, our nominated name-drawer, asks, her brow crinkled in consternation later that morning, when we meet to do the deed.

  ‘I guess we just keep going till we get one we like!’ she says, answering her own question with a smile, a devilish sense of power going to her head as she realises that we’re the only two present doing the honours and can essentially wreak havoc!

  She reaches into the baseball cap I have unearthed for the occasion and pulls out ‘Quiet Storm’.

  ‘OK, I really like that,’ Fran says, before picking a couple more, just in case there is a wave of protest over this scientific process. The next in line are Rainswept and Poetic Rain, always a bit of a favourite with the group.

  I fill in the necessary forms and send them off to the Racehorse Registrar. And within a week, Rosie is official, with her own entry in the Australian Stud Book and a Thoroughbred Identification Card that reads:

  Quiet Storm (AUS)

  2007: bay female (30/09/2007)

  Sire: King of Roses

  Dam: Poetic Waters

  Life No: AUS00955179

  The flipside notes the brands on her near (left) and off (right) shoulders, as well as all her ‘white markings’—in Rosie’s case, what they term a ‘star’ on her head. It is not quite that shape, but the description is fair.

  As this card will travel with her everywhere she goes, her microchip number is also listed on it. And that microchip will be swiped by stewards every time she races. The days of the great ring-ins of Aussie racing—the Fine Cotton affairs—are long gone.

  Chapter 14

  Drama at the track

  Midway through August and much to everyone’s surprise, our filly is still showing no signs of tiring.

  Unfazed by stable life, the pace of her work in the morning has been slowly increasing, and she is happily handling the pressure, all good signs. Finally, the morning she is to have her first proper fast gallop, running the last 200 of 600 metres at a prescribed time against the clock, Robbie runs his hands over her front legs and finds a problem. A big one.

  ‘I’ve got lots to talk about and none of it’s good,’ he says, after the briefest of greetings on the phone.

  ‘We discovered that Rosie has inflammation in one of her knees when we were checking her over before stepping her up in speed. She wasn’t sore at all, and she wasn’t the slightest bit lame, but her left front knee was inflamed.

  ‘We got the vet in to have a look and the X-ray shows the bone quality in that knee’s not good and there’s evidence of what could be a tiny hairline fracture—but it’s old, quite old, and the vet’s not really sure what it is. She says it’s either a defect or deformity from birth or an injury she’s had when she was really young.’

  I have started pacing the floor of my Sydney office, walking between the desk and the window to try to keep up with what Robbie is saying, when I realise he’s actually paused for breath, and is waiting for some response from me. I assure him that, to the best of my knowledge, Rosie has never injured that or any one of her four legs in the first year-and-a-half at home, either on my farm or where she was born. One thing I’m even more definite about is that she has never been lame.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter, because we just have to deal with it now. So we’ve drained the knee, got rid of all the crappy fluid in it and she’s on a bone-strengthening treatment called Tildren. Once that’s finished we’ll put her in the paddock for three months and let nature take its course before checking her again. To be honest, I don’t know what the knee will do. I’ve never had a horse with this particular condition before. The bone quality doesn’t look good … But there’s a fair chance that if we do everything right now, it will improve. It’s not good news, but by stopping now and being aggressive in our approach, we might turn it around … The good thing we’ve observed about Rosie is that she’s always had a good action. So the positive thing I’m taking from it is (the knee’s) not concerning her at all. And from what you say, it never has; in fact, that inflammation might come back again when we bring her back to work, and never bother her.

  ‘It might just be one of those things that is just Rosie, part of her physical make-up we have to be aware of and manage. She’s always been a busy bee, she’s certainly never backward in coming forward, and she hasn’t missed a beat along the way,’ Robbie says, a chuckle coming back into his voice.

&nbs
p; ‘She wants to be a racehorse and she’s not had a chance to show us her level of ability yet. So we have to give her that chance.’

  When we stop talking, I stare at the small mobile phone in my hand that has been the conduit for this crushing news, as if trying to conjure up a solution to what could be an insurmountable setback.

  The first thing anyone who has anything to do with horses learns is that legs are everything. Simple as that. No legs, no horse. And that means all four legs must be good.

  At the same time I have to admit to almost a sense of relief. In all honesty, I think I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, some hiccup to occur. Knowing horses even as little as I do, some ‘thing’ was bound to happen. Even though Rosie was doing everything right, it was like we were all having too smooth a run.

  I am also aware that this development, while certainly not good, is not as bad as it could have been. She could have chipped a bone in her knee (worse), or damaged a tendon (much worse), or run into a fence post somewhere out on the track, or—and this is the more likely scenario—gone out in the morning and run on her inflamed knee and damaged it more severely. All things horses do, in and out of work, especially young horses.

  But at this stage, Rosie isn’t even sore to the touch, let alone lame, and that has to be an indication of an issue that nature and proper recuperation might just be able to fix. I resolve not to panic, at least not until I see her and the suspect knee again in just a few days time, when I’m next in Melbourne.

  Still, I alert her little band of owners to this latest news, only to be immediately heartened by their response. Adam, the most experienced team member and already a highly successful racehorse owner, sends back an email within minutes that says simply ‘Goodo’, before mentioning another horse that he has a share in is running at Randwick that afternoon and that ‘should win by 10 lengths’ (it doesn’t)—while first-time owner Tony rings up demanding his money back.