Page 35 - December 2006 The Game

Canada’s Thoroughbred Racing Newspaper The Game, December 2006 35
Continued from Previous Page
.......Scott Fairlie horse named Matthew’s Gold.
“It wasn’t an overly memorable ride,” she says of the low-priced claimer, “I got around.”
Rainford’s first win did not take long. She won on Tracy’s Tonka Toy in just her third pari-mutuel race and Rainford found the mile and quarter quite a challenge.
“I was not very fit,” she admits, “The horse won by almost ten lengths, so he made it easy on me. The trainer, Scott Fairlie, asked me why I didn’t get down low and pose for the picture as the horse went by the wire and I said I was too tired and my legs wouldn’t bend that much.”
On November 30 of 2005, Rainford brought home her third career win on a horse called Diamon Sue, which surprised everyone at 134-1. After a fourth win, she stopped riding that year to allow her apprenticeship to extend for most of the 2007 season.
This year though, as a bug rider, she has gained terrific momentum, working her way up the jockey standings in an environment that didn’t necessarily have an opening for a successful apprentice rider. What’s quite eye-opening is Rainford’s winning rate of about 15% - only four Woodbine jockeys beat her in that category. They would be Emma- Jayne Wilson, Patrick Husbands, Jim McAleney and Todd Kabel. That’s right - in her first full year of riding, Rainford’s win percentage is better than that of Corey Fraser, Justin Stein, David Clark, Jono Jones and Emile Ramsammy.
Over half of Scott Fairlie’s training wins have come with Rainford riding so, needless to say, he’s become a big fan.
“For a bug rider, she’s very smart and she finishes strong.” He says, “I don’t think many people know it as much as I know it. She’s got the technique and her skills are vastly improved.”
Astute horse-players will notice that Rainford has a tendency to repeat her wins on horses. She’s won four times on Tracy’s Tonka Toy and has special affection for a couple of horses she’s been photographed with multiple times.
“Greeley’s Flame, trained by Mac Benson, is a filly that I’ve won three on this year,” says Rainford, (note - the pair won another race on November 18 at Woodbine) “And Seal of Moulin, trained by Scott Fairlie, I’ve won three in a row on her in allowance races - she has a lot of potential to go even further than that.”
As far as potential goes, trainers at Woodbine are learning that Michelle Rainford does good work on a horse and this is making life a lot rosier for her agent Al Raymond who picked up her book in June.
“She has an excellent work ethic, she’s very professional,” says Raymond, and when pressed about her penchant for winning on the front end, he adds,
“She’s great out of the gate. I don’t think she’s one-dimen- sional, but coming out of the gate, apprentices don’t general- ly catch on that quickly.”
One trainer who has shown interest in Rainford’s services is Mac Benson.
“I can’t say enough about riding for Mac Benson. He’s a class guy,” says Raymond, “I guess there was something he saw about her that he liked.”
The Game Interviewed Michelle Rainford on November 8, 2006. That night she had six rides. In the second race, on 18-1 longshot Dakota Freeway, she trailed by several lengths at the head of the stretch, yet rallied amongst horses to finish second. In the third race, Rainford and Buckandance had one horse beaten going into the far turn, but Buckandance came flying up the inside to be a bang up second at 12-1. Then in the eighth, on the favourite Dreams in Paradise, Rainford again found herself well back with three furlongs to go and again her horse came surging up the inside. With an exuberant run in the final 200 yards, Dream in Paradise, trained by Sue Leslie broke her maiden by almost two lengths.
So what is it about Michelle Rainford that she’s able to do so well with horses off the pace?......
Holiday Racing
In the summer of ’74, New England racing shifted from Suffolk Downs in Boston to Rockingham Park, New Hampshire. I was still based at SuffolkDowns, galloping horses for my apprentice contract holder Bobbie Venezia, and several other trainers. Dreams of being in the winner’s circle with The Heckler were put on hold because the New Hampshire track was fast and hard and not to his liking. We took advantage of the time to hone his conditioning and to keep his bowed tendon cold and hard.
One of the trainers I rode for, Bill Barnes, was as determined as I was to enjoy the holiday mood of Rockingham Park and entered a horse he had recently bought, David’s Harley. The gelding was training very well and, unlike The Heckler, loved a fast track. The morning of the race, I left Boston long before sunrise. On the long drive to New Hampshire, I visualized myself on the handsome bay mount gliding under the wire ten lengths in front, inspiring the other trainers to fight for the riding services of the hot new woman apprentice.
As I turned onto the road to the barn area, my imagination was busy creating the fantasy when my ears caught the familiar sound of pounding hooves. Suddenly, a horse exploded out of the morning mist. I slammed on the brakes and sat stunned as the horse flew by. The narrow white stripe on the gelding’s face was very familiar – it was David’s Harley. A pony rider was right behind in hot pursuit. With the help of several other motorists, we managed to corral the runaway. Unscathed, the fugitive horse trotted back soundly to the receiving barn while I
revised my earlier fantasy to a mere half- length win at the wire.
By mid-afternoon, the saddling paddock at Rockingham felt as stiflingly hot as the sweatbox back in the jockeys’ room. My natural weight was 103 but my horse was listed at 116. Even with the heavy saddle, I was carrying significant lead. As I walked to the saddling stall, it felt as if the lead plates were attached to my feet and my reflexes seemed to be following at least five strides behind. (Is this what the guys feel like after a half hour in the sweat box? I wondered.)
The unscheduled gallop seemed to have sharpened Harley who looked bright and eager after his morning escape. I hadn’t had an opportunity to gallop on the Rockingham track and used the warm-up to familiarize myself. Harley behaved him- self, galloping beside the pony and he seemed to like the surface. I did my usual breathing exercises as we approached the gate. Normally, deep breathing and inner focus gave me renewed energy, but the sensation of breeches and silks plastered to my body in the oppressive heat made me feel as if I was smothering inside a wet, woolen blanket. It was the charge from the gate that awakened my reflexes and I swung into action with the horse’s galloping stride.
Harley broke well enough to get into fourth position, a good spot for the six furlong race. We held our own down the backstretch and into the turn. When a horse came up on the outside, Harley was determined to keep his head in front and easily outran the challenger. At the head of the stretch, on cue, he changed his lead and was ready for the final run. Exhilaration surged through me as David’s Harley head- ed for the lead. Suddenly, in midstride, he lost all momentum and began to stagger as if he’d suddenly lost his balance. Alarm bells rang in every part of my body as Harley’s head disappeared below his knees. I pulled for all I was worth, struggling to
keep him on his feet. I was fighting not only for my own life, but for all the horses and jockeys behind me. We teetered between staying upright and collapsing as the horses flew by.
Miraculously, no one hit us.
Harley was now at a jog and felt as if he could topple over at any moment. That was when I noticed my white breeches were splattered in blood. I leaped from the saddle, adrenaline giving me the strength to land solidly on my feet and hold the horse up. Harley swayed as blood poured from his nostrils. Help arrived just then as the pony rider galloped up and took over.
Shock combined with the unfamiliar surroundings brought me to a heightened state of disorientation and I started to follow my blood-drenched mount when a valet appeared, steering me in the opposite direction. He walked very close to me and I wondered if he thought I was the one injured. As people lined the fence along the grandstand, the valet turned slightly sideways, shielding me. It was then that I realized he didn’t want the fans to see my bloodied pants. Simply not the best image for horseracing.
Harley’s career wasn’t enhanced by his New Hampshire experience and he soon moved on to the show ring. As for me, the mention of Rockingham Park elicits an image of a horse galloping out of the morning mist as a wet woolen blanket envelops me... And then I see red.
A Head at the Wire
The tenth in a series of real life stories by Paddy Head majeek05@hotmail.com
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