The Backside Of Good Breeding

His name is Boston Glory - and no, this has nothing to do with the World Series. He's a little chestnut colt with a white blaze down his face. He's only two years old and I'm not aware of anything particularly impressive about his breeding, though I admit I haven't looked.

He ran against Roman Ruler in the Norfolk. Roman Ruler is the son of the acclaimed Fusiachi Pegasus and Roman Ruler, like his dad, looks like silk - silk rippling in the wind - when he runs. He runs effortlessly. He doesn't even seem to be breathing hard as he flies past other horses.

The race started this way. Roman Ruler was running in second. Boston Glory was running dead last. Roman Ruler was half a length from the leader, being held tight until the stretch run. Boston Glory ten lengths back and not a horse around. Into the last turn, Corey Nakatoni lets out a notch and Roman Ruler glides past the front running horse, moving like silk, effortlessly and comes into the stretch in front. Boston Glory is let out to run and moving through the last turn, he picks off horses until he enters the stretch in third.

And that's when I notice him.

I didn't pay attention to the little chestnut with the white face in the back of the pack. I wasn't that I dismissed him for running last. One of my favorite three year olds this year was Imperialism, who only ever saw the rear-ends of his competitors, with the exception of the very start of the race and the notable exception of the end of the race, when he'd run by them all.

I didn't pay attention to Boston Glory because I had come to see Roman Ruler. I came to see a horse who had all the markings of a champion. He has the pedigree. He has the connections. He has the stride. He has the speed. He has the endurance. I came to see Roman Ruler.

But I found my champion somewhere else.

I worried about Boston Glory when I first took a good look at him, coming around that turn. I worried that he might bust his chin open on his knees. I don't believe I have ever seen a race horse who ran more like buffalo. I was concerned for the poor jockey as well. He didn't seem to know what would be the best policy - to urge on his horse or to hang on real tight.

And so there it was - Roman Ruler away by four lengths. You'd swear they must have oiled his joints and put shocks on his shoes. Four lengths back, Boston Glory - running with his head cocked sideways, trying to keep his eyes locked on the target in front. His jockey bouncing around...his knees up around his ears...

No.

He didn't catch him.

But I don't think a horse like that ever forgets the backside of good breeding.

posted by Headless-in-GR @ 10/29/2004 01:22:00 AM