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Post by S u N f r O s T ~ on Jun 3, 2009 21:08:13 GMT -5
He had nine furlongs to prove his greatness and prestige. Nine, against five other horses, including his half sister Once Upon A Dream [winner of the Breeder's Cup Juvenile Fillies]. This race could make or break the racing world's opinions of his chances in the three Triple Crown races. The Blue Grass Stakes would decide everything for juvenile champion Impressario. He had a lot to prove and a lot to reconfirm about his greatness.
The black son of Merry Bay King and Bank On Silver danced onto the track excitedly, taking long, swift strides as he pranced side to side and eager, as always, to go. It was his usual morning attitude, one that I appreciated. The horse that enjoyed his work usually did better, after all. Tossing his head excitedly, he waited and then followed my command to canter along the rail. Each stride reached out and sought more ground to cover; he was a machine hungrily eating up the ground and looking to eat it up faster, and faster, and ever faster. There was no such thing as too fast for the black three year old.
As we continued to journey through our warm up lap, I noticed the stillness in the air. No birds chirped, as though an enemy was nearby. The sun's rays, usually made warm and cheery by the calls of birds, had a cold feel to them. But it was not unwelcoming; it was as if the world was hushed in the presence of Ario, in the presence of a winner. If the colt noticed, he only reveled in it. He held his head up higher, though this caused him to slow a little bit. Down it went again, down so he could maintain and then push his warm up pace at his leisure. Complete and utter control was what he preferred; that was why he was a front runner. Controlling the pace and making sure none got ahead was a specialty of his. If he was completely in control, anything could happen. That was his one big strength - and one big weakness - in the Bluegrass Stakes. But he had supreme control over his strategies, having perfected them through his losses, and he had attained a high level of understanding and strategy when the bells rang and the gates opened to show him the open track to glory.
He was becoming looser now, his strides fluid. He didn't move with the predatory grace of an overly analytical horse, but the grace that was there was unmistakable. Each stride made you want to wait and see if the perfection of it would stay for every stride. This caused more attention for the Triple Crown prospect, and Ario loved attention. It was one of the things he had grown up with. At prospect races he was appraised for his legendary bloodlines, and after his juvenile season he was appraised not only for that but for his past successes and future promise. He was the next big thing. The real deal, pointed for the Triple Crown and then the Breeder's Cup Classic. And the scary part was - not to me, but to others - he had a darn good chance of beating any in his path.
We were halfway down the backstretch, and we had five furlongs stretching between us and the wire. He was loose enough now for the gallop, and I quickly vaulted into the crouch, at the same time loosening the reins. His response was instantaneous; there was not a moment of hesitation. Why hesitate when he got the very thing he craved right alongside attention? Speed was his calling now, and he revved up his strides to a speedy beat that spelled the glory of his reign onto the dirt track. He was king, like his sire. Merry Bay King. How fitting, seeing as they were both Kings. It ran in the family. And Silver, Silver had been Queen. The King and Queen, producing their heir to the throne; Impressario.
The first furlong passed quickly. Ario was running at a very comfortable pace, just off his top gears of speed, and he could keep at this for a while. He had been schooled gently and often to improve his stamina and vitality, as well as an occasional sprint workout for his speed. His manicured black coat slid easily over his muscles, the perfect picture of the natural leader. His head was down, his ears flat to better streamline his body through the air that lay in front of him, invisible but suspended the most at his level just above the earth's surface. The dirt moved up in small clouds, staining his legs for a brief period of time until the wind whipping past blew them off. He remained a perfect creature, and glided through another furlong effortlessly.
The turn had now arrived. He curved his body slightly, and then continued to curve in increments as we flew around the turn, hugging the inside rail. He sensed that the wire was coming, and flared his speed up a notch. If the first two furlongs had been fast, it was nothing compared to this. He simply burst invisible wings and began to slowly, almost lazily beat them. He was moving fast, but seemed to be expending almost no effort at all. and there was more speed down below, waiting to be used, harbored for the foolishly brave horse that would try to catch him at the wire.
He jumped into his second fastest speed naturally as we came off the turn. His head began to extend and then come back in a furious bobbing motion, the movement of my hands on the reins enabling him to do this easier. He needed the extra power for the final cruise to victory, under the red wire and then into the flowering breath of glory in the winners' circle. The heir to the throne, quietly breathing in great bursts that was more than enough for him, finally hit top speed.
We were floating high above the ground, flying across the dirt, beating all that lifted a hoof to stop us, flying, flying, flying......and then under, in a black blur representing a mythical creature known as the black leopard that was merely invented to describe this spectacle. Such greatness needed the imaginary to describe. We slowed after the wire in a piecemeal fashion, and when we finally reached the trot it was to find us both panting in time with each other. I smiled, assured of our chances this year. Impressario, son of Bank On Silver and Merry Bay King, was heir to the throne of their greatness, and no queen - even no princess, such as his half sister - would stand by his side when he crossed the wire in the Blue Grass. [/blockquote]
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