Page 34 - March 2007 The Game

34 The Game, March 2007 Canada’s Thoroughbred Racing Newspaper
A Never Changing Tradition
by evenSteven
Opening day dawned cold and sunny at Hastings Park. Horses were already pacing in their stalls when I walked through the gate and onto the backstretch. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face; this was spring training, even though spring was still weeks away. Stubbled with the white bristles of a heavy frost, the track felt light and crispy, and I hopped around testing the surface like an itchy-footed colt. Already the backstretch buzzed with activity as familiar faces emerged from their winter hibernation. Brave birds, sticking out the winter, sang their praises to the unseasonably fine weather. Across Burrard Inlet, the snow-capped mountains of the north shore dazzled white in the sunlight. The track had been closed for two months, but not until this moment had I realized how much I missed it. My return to the backstretch felt like a kind of homecoming, but I wonder, what is it about the race track I find so appealing?
Well, first and foremost it’s the horses. But even though working with these magnificent animals may be the biggest attraction, it’s by no means the only one. Horseracing fosters a connection to a bygone era. I suspect not much has changed in the last hundred years. The backstretch has always been a feast for the senses. Mornings begin the same as they always have, with the mingled sounds and smells of horses anxious for breakfast, the greedy nickers and anxious whinnies, the sweet, grassy scents of hay and manure. After feeding, the horses still get brushed and tacked and escorted to the track, their necks arched smartly in the dim light, heads bobbing in time to the clip-clop of hooves on pavement. But on the track, horse and rider evolve into something greater than the sum of their parts. The exercise rider collects his horse, curves its neck and pulls its chin into his chest, draws him taut like a bow. Around the clubhouse turn and into the backstretch, the horses inspire each other to greater speeds, driven on by the sound of their own hoofbeats, the locomotive snorts of oxygen exploding through flared nostrils.
There’s something about every racetrack that evokes a sense of history, of belonging to a tradition greater than yourself. I love looking at old photos of races from the early days, when thousands of people jammed the stands, and horse racing was the only show in town. The photos confirm that I was born in the wrong era. People in those days knew how to dress; the men with the sharp geometric cut of their suits and the jaunty angle of their hats; the women with their dresses and shoes and matching handbags. Back then, a man was only as good as his hat and a woman as good as her purse.
Something about the racetrack invokes a feeling of nostalgia as powerful as anything from my childhood. This is
rather ironic, given I never attended a horse race until the ripe age of thirty-one. But much of my childhood was spent devouring every book I could find on the Sport of Kings. By the age of ten, I knew the names and vital statistics of many of history’s most famous runners. At school I regaled disinterested classmates with tales of classic races and burdened strangers on the street with my new-found knowledge. Years before I made my first visit, books taught me the language and lingo of the track. I read how trainers would put a goat or a pony in the stall of a nervous horse to help him relax or how faithful grooms would live in tackrooms or even sleep outside the stall to be closer to their horses. So impressed was my ten year old psyche by these marvels of dedication, I immediately announced my intention to move into our barn in hopes of improving relations with my Dad’s team of Belgians. My mother rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to argue. Horses or not, she knew I was afraid of the dark. Mom figured correctly I would never last a single night.
These days, horseracing symbolizes a lingering hallmark of a bygone era. Much of what I hear from the people who’ve devoted their lives to the horseracing industry is a lamentation for what has been lost. Some of them remember when the track played host to thousands, when horseracing was not only the sporting event in town, but the social hub around which all walks of society revolved. Many long for the days I can only dream about, when spectators thronged the stands and their shouts and cheers helped rally the horses down the homestretch.
There are some moments in life that are so visceral, that touch so many senses at once you can’t ever forget them; they become stamped indelibly on your sub- conscious. I feel blessed because, thanks to the racetrack, my life is filled with these moments: A coyote loping along- side my horse on the dew-slicked grass in the early morning; A horse appearing out of fog so thick it swallows the sound of hoofbeats, then disappearing again, and I wonder if it was a real animal or only a ghost? How do you explain to someone what it feels to see something so beautiful it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up?
For nine months of the year, every day the sun rises, I greet it on the back of a galloping horse. I believe it’s as close as I’ll ever get to God.
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Thirtieth Birthday Party for Remote Ruler
The crew at thoroughbred breeder Susan Y. Foreman’s farm celebrated the thirtieth birthday of Susan’s mare, Remote Ruler, with a yummy carrot birthday cake as well as a bountiful bouquet of carrots.
Remote Ruler was born April 20, 1977 and is from the first crop of Windfields Farm’s Maryland stallion, King Emperor (Bold Ruler).
ShewasaGrade3winnerat2inthe Golden Rod Stakes and had career race earnings of $105,000.
In 1985 Remote Ruler sold as a broodmare in foal to In Reality at the Keeneland November Sale for $485,000.
Out of the mare, Secret Verdict, Remote Ruler comes from a nice female family, with her 1/2 sister selling the year prior for $1.2 million in foal to Storm Bird. In Remote Ruler’s first 2 generations (first and second dam) there are 34 stakes winners which include 8 G1, 12 G2 and 11 G3 winners. There are also 7 Champions, 1 Broodmare of the Year and 1 Horse of the Year.
Throughout the years, Remote Ruler has produced foals by Coastal, Danzig, Fappiano, In Reality, Graustark, Miswaki, Regal Classic and Silver
Deputy. Her 1993 foal by Afleet, was the yearling sales topper at Woodbine and was sold to Japanese interest and made more than $465,000 in earnings.
Other offspring of note are: Mama Mucci, a Regal Classic filly who was third in the G1 Oakleaf Stakes at Santa Anita and seventh in the G1 Breeders’ Cup Juvenile Fillies at Churchill Downs. Mama Mucci’s career earnings were $79,000; Close In, by Fappiano was a multiple stakes winner who earned $190,000 in her career. She had finished 4th in the G1 Breeders’ Cup for Juvenile Fillies at Hollywood Park.
Susan Foreman purchased Remote Ruler after the mare’s owner Pat Ballantine passed away in 1998. At the time Susan was the manager of Ballantine Stables who purchased the mare privately in1991.
“She was a hard luck mare and only produced one foal for me.” says Susan, “Now she gets to babysit the weanlings.”
Susan says the mare is healthy and strong and adds a good general spirit to the barn with her zest for life. “Thirty year old thoroughbreds are few and far between. We are very happy to have her.”
Pictured here with the mare Remote Ruler at her 30th Birthday Party are (left to right): Uli Paulischta, Katie Browne, Susan Foreman, Sarah Wood, John Nespolon and George Ashmall (better known as Pops) along with Katie’s dog “Molly”.
Photo Right: This colt born February 7 has been nicknamed Vincent by owners Bev Lewis and Susan Foreman. The colt is a first crop foal for stallion Value Plus who is a son of Unbridled Song. His dam is an Artax mare, Art of Desire, and this is her first foal.
Photo Left: Stable hand, Uli, get acquainted with this Royal Academy filly out of the mare D’Ohana (by Candy Stripes).
The filly was born February 5 and is owned by Empress Stables.