Man O'War

by Walter Farley

  Danny watched as his colt went postward, prancing closely beside Major Treat. He felt Man o’ War wouldn’t let any of his followers down. The track was sloppy from an earlier rain but that wouldn’t bother him. He’d be able to handle himself without trouble. He might do even better than he’d done in his first race. He hadn’t been so nervous in the paddock and seemed to be getting used to all the noise and hullabaloo. He was almost keeping in time to the music from the track band, his heels dancing in the mud. He was as eager as ever. He knew where he was going.

  Danny hugged Man o’ War’s cooler. “C’mon, Red, show them again,” he muttered to himself. Oh, he’d like to have been up on him, all right. But the big colt was the thing. Nothing else mattered much, so long as Man o’ War raced the way he could. “C’mon, Red. C’mon,” he repeated loudly.

  He knew Johnny Loftus again had orders to break Man o’ War from the barrier slowly and to go only fast enough to win. Everybody, including Feustel and Mr. Riddle, didn’t want to overdo Man o’ War. He had too much racing ahead of him.

  “Keep a good hold of him once you’re out in front,” Feustel had instructed Loftus.

  Danny watched the field line up behind the barrier. Man o’ War was quiet for a change, and the others were steady too. There was no delay. The barrier went up and the yellow flag fell. The Keene Memorial was on!

  Ralco came out of the pack first. Danny searched the surging mass of horses for the black-and-yellow colors of Man o’ War. He found them well back in the middle. Another horse moved up beside Ralco to the front. Johnny Loftus had Man o’ War three lengths behind, but the big colt was steady and out of trouble.

  “Now, Red. Now!” Danny shouted.

  Man o’ War came forward with great, ground-eating strides as if he had actually heard Danny’s call! For a few seconds another colt stayed alongside and Danny recognized On Watch. But the other couldn’t stay with Man o’ War as he swept down upon the two colts leading the field. He bounded past them as if they had come to a dead stop. On Watch swept by the two spent leaders too, but he was no match for the big red colt. Man o’ War moved easily away, and when he passed under the finish wire Johnny Loftus was again standing in his stirrup irons in an attempt to slow him down. Once more Man o’ War had won in classic style, making his competition look like “cheap” horses rather than the high-class stock they were.

  Danny watched his colt come back. Like everyone else, he was beginning to wonder how fast Man o’ War could really go. There was no doubt that he could race much faster than he was being allowed to. But how fast was that?

  Now Feustel was convinced more than ever that he had the best two-year-old of the season. He nodded in complete agreement and understanding when Mr. Riddle said, “Don’t overdo him early, Louis. I want him at the top of his form for Saratoga, still over a month off. His possibilities are immense.”

  “I know,” the trainer answered, “but after today’s race it won’t be so easy. They got a better line on him now. He’ll never go to the post so light again. They’ll start throwing the weight on him to slow him down.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Mr. Riddle said.

  “I know,” the trainer said.

  The meeting at Belmont Park closed, but racing resumed the next day at the Jamaica course just a few miles away. There it was planned to start Man o’ War again although the stable remained at Belmont. To get him used to the Jamaica track and crowd, Feustel received permission from the officials to work him one afternoon between races.

  Danny watched his colt closely. Perhaps the public workout would show how fast Man o’ War could really run. Loftus took him five furlongs under a snug hold, but the big colt acted as if he were in a race. He took the bit and fought for his head every stride of the way. His eagerness to run electrified all who watched, and when he flashed under the wire, his time equaled the track record!

  Man o’ War, the newspapers reported that evening, was the equal of any of the older horses in training. But Danny knew that, powerful as the colt seemed to the public and the press, he still had a lot of growing to do. Only fate knew the full potential of Man o’ War. Only time held the answer.

  Man o’ War raced on, meeting only youngsters his own age. And, as Feustel had predicted, to make the races fair the track handicappers added more weight to his back. Lead plates were inserted in the colt’s saddlebag with each successive race.

  But the leaden weights failed to keep him from winning. He carried 120 pounds in the Youthful Stakes and won in an easy gallop. Two days later Feustel sent him postward in the Hudson Stakes, and on his broad back was the heaviest impost of his young life, 130 pounds! Still he won easily. It seemed that no matter how much weight the track handicappers assigned him, there was no slowing him down.

  Feustel told the press, “The only problem we got with him is to keep him from wolfing down his feed. He tries to eat like he races. I put a bit in his mouth to slow him down some.”

  Danny didn’t consider the colt’s habit of eating too hastily their only problem. What bothered him more than anything else was that Man o’ War was using up more energy behind the barrier than ever before. And with the heavier weights the handicappers were assigning him, it was only a question of time before it would tell on him.

  No two-year-old in history had carried so much weight so early in the season. Everyone knew it, including the other jockeys, who were doing everything possible to increase Man o’ War’s restlessness behind the barrier, hoping the heavy weight would wear him down.

  Danny also wished Feustel would stop racing Man o’ War so often with so little rest in between. Of course, he was a big colt and could take hard racing as well as work. But he was still only a two-year-old. His next race was just as few days off and in it he’d be meeting for the first time the top two-year-old filly of the year, Bonnie Mary.

  Danny let his hand slide over Man o’ War’s neck. He supposed he shouldn’t question Feustel’s program when the big colt seemed to be thriving on his frequent races. He was gaining weight and growing like a weed. He was full of spirit and he was sound. What more could anyone want from a young colt? There was no reason to worry about anything.

  But the following day Danny, as well as the others in the stable, had cause for concern. Man o’ War became uneasy in his stall. He got down, rolled, and got up again. He began sweating profusely and bit his flanks. He was in pain, and the signs pointed to a colic attack.

  Louis Feustel sent for the veterinarian. “It’s from wolfing down his feed,” he said anxiously. “I knew it would come sooner or later. Get the colic medicine, Danny.”

  Watching his colt paw away at the straw bedding, Danny hoped Feustel was right. Man o’ War might just have a stomach ache from eating too fast. But he knew, too, that colic could be the outward sign of something far more serious than indigestion. The abdominal pain could be caused by twisted intestines or something even worse. The veterinarian would know.

  Danny found it hard waiting for the doctor to come. He recalled the hard races this growing colt had run and his fractious antics at the barrier. Had Man o’ War hurt himself without their knowing it? He knew that he was worrying needlessly, that there was no reason for so much concern. The colt was big and strong. He had thrown off influenza earlier in the year. He could lick this, too. Colic attacks were nothing new or unusual around a stable.

  The veterinarian arrived and, after examining the big colt, confirmed Feustel’s diagnosis. “It’s indigestion, all right.”

  Everyone in the stable relaxed and the veterinarian added, “The pain is leaving him already. He’ll be himself soon enough and clamoring for feed. Go light on him for a few days, Louis.”

  “Sure, we’ll drop him out of the Great American and wait for the Tremont Stakes the following week.”

  So Man o’ War stayed in his stall while Bonnie Mary won the Great American carrying 127 pounds, only three pounds less than Man o’ War would have carried had he gone to the post. What was even more impres
sive, Bonnie Mary lowered the race record a full second by doing the five furlongs in 58 ⅖ seconds, faster than any of Man o’ War’s races over the same distance!

  A week later, on July 5, Man o’ War emerged again to reclaim his share of two-year-old honors. Fully recovered from his attack of colic, he went postward in the Tremont Stakes. Despite the fact that Bonnie Mary was not in the race, the great stands were overflowing with people who wanted to compare this colt to the brilliant filly. Only two other stables would send their charges against Man o’ War, and the spectators quickly made him the favorite, even though he was carrying the heavy impost of 130 pounds. His very presence on the track excited them and they watched his quick movements with wonder. Here was a horse that was all Thoroughbred … and something else. They had no doubt about the outcome of the race and yet they awaited the start breathlessly.

  Man o’ War did not let them down. He put on his usual performance behind the barrier, almost unseating Johnny Loftus. But once the barrier whipped up, he broke on top and ran the six furlongs under a strangling pull to win. His time was unimpressive, a slow 1:13. But it did not matter to the crowd. He could have gone much faster if he had been let out the way he’d wanted to be. Here, they knew, was a champion.

  It was only then that Man o’ War was given the rest from racing that Danny thought he needed. The stable moved to Saratoga immediately after the running of the Tremont. Everyone knew that Mr. Riddle liked this track best of all and would cherish every victory his horses won there. The Hopeful Stakes would be his prime objective, just as it was for every other horse owner in the country, for the winner of the Hopeful usually ended the season as the champion of the two-year-olds.

  But the Hopeful and the races that preceded it were still a long while off. The Saratoga meeting would not open until August 1, so for the rest of July, Man o’ War loafed.

  Danny relaxed with his colt. He loved Saratoga for its quiet, natural beauty. The air from the Adirondack Mountains was cool and exhilarating, and yet the pace was slow and serene. He thrived on it, the same as everyone else. No wonder stable owners liked to come here with their horses, he decided. Nowhere was the grass more luxuriant, the water more sparkling, the weather more pleasant.

  Often at night, when Man o’ War was bedded down, Danny would walk the quiet streets of the town, passing the large hotels with their long porches where people sat even now, weeks before the races started. Saratoga was a health resort as well as the site of the oldest track in America.

  He passed, too, the brightly lit white-painted houses set well back from the streets, their lawns level and green. In one rambling villa on Union Avenue the Riddles lived. He would watch guests enter and, with no trouble at all, visualize Mr. Riddle extolling the great speed of Man o’ War to them, the same as he did at the stables. The guests would listen attentively and nod their heads in complete agreement.

  It was easy to say nice things about such a colt, especially with old friends who shared one’s interest in the goal common to all horse owners, the winning of the Hopeful. They would know, of course, that the best two-year-olds in America were beginning to arrive at the track. Jim Rowe was already there with Upset and Wildair, both ready to race. He had another youngster also, John P. Grier, who, according to stable talk, was not quite ready to go but was supposed to be the best of the lot. Mike Daly, too, was due in with Golden Broom, who had fully recovered from the quarter crack he had developed in the spring.

  Danny moved away from the house. He recalled Golden Broom’s speed very well, but he didn’t think the Jeffords colt would give Man o’ War any trouble. Neither would any of the others. His colt was fully rested. He looked more like a four-year-old than he had at Belmont, standing over sixteen hands in his plates and with the weight to match. He was now close to 1,000 pounds, which was big weight for a two-year-old. And there was not a pimple on him.

  Early the next morning Danny walked Man o’ War through the pine woods that surrounded the track. Soon these golden, easy days would be over and his colt’s real work would begin again. Man o’ War was ready for it. He was destined to be a greater horse than his sire, Fair Play, ever was, Danny decided. And for a moment he recalled again his days at Nursery Stud with its stallions and mares and foals.

  Man o’ War was much leggier than Fair Play. Bigger in body, too, and broader across the loins. All in all, this colt was much better balanced than his sire.

  Danny watched as Man o’ War decided to get down and roll. Carefully he lowered his great body and then, turning on his back, thrashed the air with his legs. Finally he stood up, shaking himself.

  Would any of the top two-year-olds he’d meet at Saratoga really make him run? Danny wondered. If Man o’ War was ever extended it would be something to see. Even so, five and six furlongs were much too short for him. He needed more distance to stretch out. But that would have to wait until the following year.

  Suddenly Man o’ War snorted. Danny followed his altered gaze and saw another horse being walked a short distance away. He recognized Bonnie Mary, the brilliant filly who had won the Great American at Belmont when Man o’ War had been confined to his stall. She was scheduled to go to the post against Man o’ War in his first race at Saratoga. Would she be the one to make him extend himself?

  The big colt tugged at the lead shank, trying to move toward her. Danny shook his head at Man o’ War’s eagerness. “A filly,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t you know?”

  Golden Broom Again

  18

  On August 2, 1919, Man o’ War went postward for his first start at Saratoga. It was the thirty-sixth running of the historic United States Hotel Stakes at three-quarters of a mile and worth $7,600 to the winner. Danny stood at the gap in the fence through which the horses had passed. It was the largest and best field his colt had faced, but he had no doubt Man o’ War would win. Neither, it seemed, did the spectators have any doubt, for they had once more made him the heavy favorite even though he was carrying 130 pounds and giving weight to all his opponents.

  Danny studied the field of ten horses, his eyes finding Bonnie Mary. She was the only one carrying close to high weight, 127 pounds. The crowd had made her second choice. Could she carry her heavy impost against such a colt as Man o’ War? A few minutes more and Danny, along with everyone else, would have his answer.

  The others in the field were lightly weighted even though they came out of some of the best stables in the country and were being ridden by outstanding jockeys. Upset was the third choice of the crowd, but he had been beaten by Bonnie Mary in the Great American. He carried the same weight as he had in that race, 115 pounds, but today’s distance was six furlongs, an eighth of a mile farther. Would the extra furlong and weight advantage mean that he could catch Bonnie Mary?

  Man o’ War was the idol of the overflowing stands, and Danny’s skin tingled as he heard the applause for him. Would his colt’s name be added to the names of the famous winners of the United States Hotel Stakes … Hanover, Old Rosebud, St. James, Pompey, Scapa Flow, and Jamestown? Danny had read about them all.

  He watched the field round the far turn and go up the back-stretch, where the barrier awaited them. Racing around a turn didn’t bother Man o’ War any more than a straight course. He had proved that in his last three races.

  Danny was more fearful of the other jockeys than of their mounts. Eddie Ambrose was up on Upset; Buddy Ensor on Bonnie Mary. McAtee was riding David Harum, while Fator, who could rate a horse better than any other jockey in the country, was up on Carmandale. Those were the fellows to watch, he decided, for they were out to put an end to Man o’ War’s victories.

  “Just get him clear, Johnny,” Danny muttered to himself. “Get him clear and running.” But he knew Johnny Loftus would have a difficult time. He had drawn eighth position, and there was a good chance the others would jam him at the start.

  The field had reached the barrier and Man o’ War was already giving the starter a lot of trouble. He was eager to get off and Loftus wa
s shaking him up still more. Twice he broke through the barrier, taking several colts with him.

  Danny’s eyes never left them. There was no doubt that Johnny Loftus wasn’t going to wait until the others got off today. He meant to take Man o’ War to the front right away, afraid perhaps of the traffic jam that might develop ahead of him if he broke too slowly. But he was having his hands full restraining the big colt, and as he broke through the barrier once more Danny wondered how much the heavy weight was telling on his colt.

  It was all of six minutes after post time when Mars Cassidy, the official starter, had the field lined up the way he wanted it. Only then did he press the lever, making the barrier spring upward. The race was on!

  Danny saw Man o’ War plunge forward. He was out in front and running! The deep breath Danny had been holding was expelled in a great sigh of relief. The way was clear for Man o’ War. There would be nothing to stop him, nothing more to this big stake race but his colt.

  Everyone else at the track knew it, too. They all sat back and watched in silent awe as Man o’ War drew easily away from the rest of the field until Loftus started pulling him back. From then on it was only a case of watching the red colt fight for his head and a chance to run the way he would have liked. At the end of the race Loftus, smiling in his moment of triumph, was looking back at the others strung out far behind him. Upset was the horse nearest to him, followed by Homely and then by the filly Bonnie Mary. The winning time was a good 1:12 ⅖, made under the strongest kind of restraint.