For Hard Way and Elbow Beach, it's back to the racetrack

Prix René Couétil, Lisieux April 15
Tania des Ongrais

Perhaps it was the stiff, cold wind blowing across Normandy from the north. The horses were nervous before the race. We knew Hard Way was a handful -- Lisa got permission to have his gentleman rider mount before entering the presentation circle and get him out again before he had completed a full turn, and still he bounded out and put Guilain Bertrand through a rodeo to remember --, but they nearly all were.

Twisting, turning, rearing and rocking, determined to rid themselves of their riders, or just let something out, something to do with the excitement before the race, the wind, and the smells carried on it, but it only lasts a moment, and then everything is in perfect order. A warm-up followed by the orderly procession of 14 obedient and civil horses to the tape start, and they're off.

Hard Way got a good start and then sat out near the front in second or third position for most of the race with a steady race pace. Guilain moved him into the rail coming into the last turn, and they came out and into the homestretch in front, but the most experienced gentlemen riders were just behind, and made their bids. Maxime Denuault up on Sandinnar, the Aga Khan Stud mare and half-sister to Deep Ocean, saw the hole to thread between Guilain and the rail, while Florent Guy up on Quadriller, trained by Jehan Bertran de Balanda, squeezed him on the outside while the winner, Sabletory, ridden by Jean-Philippe Boisgontier, came up strong on the outside with the Gérard Augustin-Normand horse, Saint Aubin ridden by Mathieu Brasme threatening from behind.

Cire du Fray thought about it, but Hard Way wasn't going to let another horse past him and finished 5th, 4 3/4 lengths behind the winner, Sabletory, followed by Saint Aubin, with a nice showing, coming on strong from behind and overtaking the leaders through the homestretch, Quadriller, and Sandinnar.

It was Guilain's second race ever. A chance to gain race experience, while for Hard Way, it was a training session in his preparation to hit the Paris racetracks after 18 months in a retirement he decided he didn't want. Seeing him in his box at Gina Rarick's yard in Maisons-Laffitte, or in the training center of a morning, I didn't get it, but watching Hard Way spring out of the presentation circle and race was a revelation: the cream puff turned into sound and fury, a whirling dervish only to settle right back into his lovable, affectionate self off the racetrack again.

A crushed vertebra wasn't enough to stop Hard Way. He'd encased it in calcium and set it aside, making it clear to his trainer that he wanted to be in his old box in the stables on the rue Champaubert, and, preferably, on the nearest Paris racetrack.

He'll have his chance in about three weeks at Longchamp.

For now, I have to get in the car and go see another horse race. One Elbow Beach in whom I have a half share. Elbow is running her first sprint since her arrival in January from England, and today will tell if she is what her pedigree says, a sprinter at 1100 meters, or if she is the exception to her family's rule and a miler. She'll start in the third race at Maisons-Laffitte with one of the best values, but variably rated, depending on whether you're consulting Geny.com and Paris-turf.com, which have her at 11:1 odds, or ZEturf.fr, which has her at 26.3. Geny gives her an outside chance. I'd be delighted with a great and safe race, and a place.

We'll be running, like yesterday, against horses -- the two top favorites Gandalak and Dampierre -- owned by His Highness the Aga Khan and Gérard Augustin-Normand, respectively. Jockey Fabien Lefebvre, who knows her well, will be on board. I  have butterflies in my stomach.

There was question of lunch at the racetrack before the race, but this is the most nervous I have been before a race, and I think I'll scratch that and hope for reason for a little champagne after.

For the photos from around the racetrack at Lisieux yesterday, click here.
For the battle up the homestretch in Hard Way's race at Lisieux, click here.
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Hard Way and Agata, after the race

Deep Ocean wins one

Trainer Gina Rarick on Deep Ocean,
Maisons-Laffitte, December 22, 2011

I nearly opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate, but, since I am alone, I decided to opt for Hard Way's nutritional supplement of choice, a Guinness in honor of the son of Sinndar, Deep Ocean's victory today at Lyon Carré de Soie in the 8th, the Prix Président Buffaud. And not just any victory: a victory by four lengths.

If you're going to win, you might as well do it in style. 

Deep's usual jockey Gérald Pardon was on board and stayed warm and safe just behind the front runners until the final turn, when he asked Deep to step on the gas on the outside, and Deep made it look like a romp in the park, accelerating easily and overtaking, little by little, everyone in front of him, like a stealth bomber, until there was no one between him and Gérald and the post and room for three good-sized horses between him and everyone else. 

He looked like Usain Bolt in the last few meters, and if he were a man and not a horse, I swear he'd have looked over his shoulder and pumped his fist on his well-muscled chest as he loped over the finish line. 

It was Deep's day, and whether Paris-Turf keeps up with all the horses or just the several solid favorites, we in and around trainer Gina Rarick's yard at Maisons-Laffitte knew that it was but a matter of time before the four-legged and feisty ATM carried the day and brought home the biggest check. 

Let's take a look, though, at Paris-Turf's prognostics. 

In a field of 15 runners, 7 were given favorite. In order of finish, they were: Caroz, trained by Jean-Pierre Gauvin; Le Falgoux by Cédric Boutin; El Mulino by Thierry Larrivière; Successful by Bernard Goudot; the venerable El Vettorio, a 9-year-old German gelding trained by Cédric Boutin; the nearly as venerable L'Impressioniste, both in terms of age and prize money won, by Fabrice Chappet; and the equally venerable Théorique by Mathieu Boutin.

And, what did Paris-Turf have to say, quite precisely? I translate:

Caroz has had a chance to rest up since his last race and seems capable of fighting for the victory. Le Falgoux, who's back on a race track on which he has never disappointed, the regular El Mulino, and and Successful, capable of good things on his best days, can get in his way, barring his success. The eldest, El Vettorio, L'Impressioniste and Théorique, also deserve credit. Blamar and Poletto are not to be neglected.

And Deep Ocean? Where is Deep in all this? 

Deep, as it concerns him, was mentioned as a "regular chance". He and I snort in their general direction because Deep, as it concerns him, did indeed leave them all in his dust.

And, Paris-Turf, what did they have to say about this, once everyone had a chance to taste Deep's dust? 

For Caroz, favorite for the win, and who didn't class: "Among the front runners until just after the last turn, conceded midway up the homestretch and was clearly dominated."

Le Falgoux, in 9th place: "After waiting in the middle of the pack, didn't finish badly on the inside, just behind the leaders."

El Mulino, who did not class: "Front runner after the first turn, maintained his lead until the last 400 meters and then fell back."

And, Successful? He finished 2nd: "After waiting in the middle of the pack, on the rail, had some difficulty breaking out in the homestretch, and then finished fast, but well behind the winner Deep Ocean."

As for El Vettorio, L'Impressioniste and Théorique, they finished 3rd, 8th and 6th, respectively.

Reserved for Deep, the winner: "Coming up on the outside line, in Livia Noire's wake, took the lead just coming into the homestretch and flew to the post, winning brilliantly."

Deep Ocean and jockey Gérard Pardon pass the post

So, do not, I say, forget this fils de Sinndar, Sinndar, qui, portant les couleurs de l'Aga Khan, a été vainquer de l'Arc de Triomphe 2000, beating the favorite Montjeu and denying him his chance at back-to-back Arc victories. 

My partner in Elbow Beach, for her time racing with us in France, pointed out that Sinndar is racing under the number 5 in the Arc, like Deep Ocean and three other of the horses who won in the nine races yesterday at Lyon Carré de Soie.

I can recognize that there are many horses out there racing, many horses with excellent papers, some who have exploded onto the scene, others who have more quietly taken their place, racking up the places without lighting up the boards with victories like so many diamonds in a rivière, who have, nonetheless been oh so thoughtfully paying their bills and making a little extra to slip under the straw bedding, but, now, Paris-Turf, and everyone else, take notice: Deep Ocean, on the right track -- ideally, right-handed --, in good form (which he is, make no mistake, trained by Gina Rarick) and ridden by Gérald Pardon is no "regular chance"; he is a favorite.

Still, this is a horse who, at 5  years old and in 2 years and a month or two, has run 20 races, won 3 and placed in 10, which means he has won or placed in 13 of 20 starts for a 15% win percentage, 50% place and has a 65% chance overall to bring home his oats, straw and trainer's fees.

Enjoy his dust. 

In the story of thoroughbred racing, it's royal dust. Pure gold.

....

Ghost mist

Mist moving across the field

I suspected only afterwards that it might be dust from the tractor I could hear somewhere out of camera range, but I don't think so. It was too white, too light, and it had that particular ghost-like quality, spiraling up from the field in columns of vapor as it drifted, rapidly, from east to west below my balcony and terraces.

It is all gone now, at 11:30 am. The sun is warm enough to have burned it all off, the trees screening the Seine from view have reappeared, and I am going to see if the cold snap in January killed my motorcycle battery or not.

Wish me luck.
....

Morning mist

Bareness in the morning mist

Pleinchamps.com says that it is 9° with 81% humidity this morning in our department. I don't think, however, that they are using our neighborhood as the reference point. I stepped out the door this morning to take the photo, and I saw the mist swirling in front of my eyes, like the finest rain. It was probably moving down toward the ground, but I can't be certain.

There is also a field backed by a line of trees out past the ones you can distinguish in my photo. I know they are there because they were yesterday. And all the days before. And, it was quiet last night. No one came and bulldozed them into the general whiteness that contrasts so strongly with the bright sunshine of only two days ago.

The birds are quiet, too, concentrated on building their nests with whatever is lying about. I am hoping the new, bright blue tarp on the lovelier named petite maison than it is in reality, protecting the walls and furniture from the rain that collects in the soggy, ruined roof, won't catch their eye like the old green one did. I thought it was just the combined elements of rain, wind and sunshine that destroyed it, until I found so many birds' nests made of it as I pruned last year. It was ideal camouflage for them, up in their trees and shrubs. Bright blue, let us hope, might be a recognizable thing to avoid in their nest building habits.

Although, I have found red thread, or string, in another's moss nest. Christmas decorations, no doubt.

The narcissus is nearly in bloom over in its corner, seen through the swirling fine mist. I cut down the largest branches of a small tree, shrubby sort of thing just beyond it that produces lovely flowers in May, leaving the stump in place. Partly because it is hard to remove. Partly because I am sort of hoping a reasonably sized bush will develop and offer us its flowers again.

Today, though, I am heading off to take a horse to the farm where she will continue the convalescence of a foot bone she broke, kicking her wall after a good exercise session and a vigorous roll, some ten weeks ago,  so she can get back to the business of training and racing. For now, she is frisky, having spent all that time shut up in her box, with a special shoe to protect her healing bone. I am looking forward to stopping by the yard, even for a few minutes; the garden and guilt from the lack of accomplissement of my various home renovation duties have kept me away from the people, the horses, and -- while I can still say it -- my Elbow Beach, or half of her, anyway.
....

The Collared Doves favorite trees,
a Tulip tree for sitting and Bay Laurel for nesting

First frog, and a foal for Zenyatta

First frog of the spring

The sun lit the slats in the metal shutters of my bedroom window with the brightness and intensity that announces a beautiful morning, encouragement to get out of bed, in spite of the aches and the pains from yesterday's labors in the garden. It has been 3 years since the last time I pruned the linden trees down to the ham-fisted main branches, and so it was time to do them again, lest the linden trees overtake us and leave us in the dark. I did one in the morning, and the other in the afternoon, going up and down my wooden ladder and wielding a 3-ton 45-inch chainsaw at arm's length.

I now have two very large stacks of 3 to 4 meter long branches of which to dispose, and I need to find someone who can come and feed them into a wood chipper for a modest fee.

Come summer, there will be a whole new crop of wand-like branches growing from the bumps at the end of each solid branch, sending forth a dense canopy of large leaves.

Taking note of my bruised state, little didn't hurt, I rolled gingerly out of bed and made my way, stiffly, to the coffee machine, but the lure of the warm March sunshine was too strong, and I got the fish food instead and headed out to feed the fish and see how nature had been faring since my first exploration and photography session earlier this week, after I had lifted finally the soggy mat of linden leaves off the planting beds, prying them gently from the fresh green spears of the new tulip and hyacinth leaves to expose everything that the warming soil was sending up for another round of the eternal display of nature's simple glory. 

These are the days when you can feel the activity in the soil and the leaves, the energy unfurling progressively more vegetable matter, the chloroform machine working at full tilt, catching the sun's rays and radiating the purest, most joyful green from the effort. I hum right along with the plants and the blades of grass of my garden and all of nature beyond; I began my day brimming with energy and enthusiasm. 

I bent down and called the fish over for breakfast, waiting for the one large female I know is principally responsible for the healthy growth in population since the devastation wreaked by some cracks in the converted fountain's low walls and a sudden, terrible freeze one January, when the water level was too low killed dozens of fish, leaving 4 miraculous survivors. 

She eats first, and she and everyone else know it. She swims right up to my outstretched pinched thumb and forefinger, a koi stick presented to her, and we struggle to get it in her puckering mouth. Some mornings we get it on the first try;  other times, she's either too hungry or too overexcited to get it on anything like the first try, and we nearly give up, but that would be sending a poor message, and so I never admit defeat. She will get it or no one will eat, which is out of the question. 

This morning she was a little late arriving, and my attention drifted off to the others, swimming about in front of me, others heading across from under the old stone sink where they have their hide-away, and which has served as the favorite spot for the frogs, who have come to make the fountain-turned-fish pond their home. She caught me by surprise, suddenly there in front of me when I lowered my gaze again, and ate her koi stick on the third try. I turned the container, sprinkled a generous serving for everyone else, and watched it float out from the center. I love the "fish pond". 

Yesterday, a neighbor's little girls discovered it; I told them there were frogs, too, but they were still asleep, down in the sediment from the decomposed leaves that fall into it and the aquatic plants. They asked when the frogs would wake up, and I said soon. Perhaps in a couple more weeks of this warm early spring sun. They are not like the other neighbor's children, little boys, who run around the fountain and stick their arms in, pulling on the plants. They nodded and returned to watching the fish swim about, and I had a feeling that soon was maybe sooner than I had said; it was the right weather for the frogs to wake up.

Squatting next to the fish breakfast party, I saw movement over near the mossy edge of the stone sink. It didn't move like a fish; the plant leaves disappeared below the water and surfaced again along with the head and large, globular eyes of the first frog of the spring. As if the day did not promise enough wonderful things, with the aubrietta in flower on the tall wall behind the gazebo, the transcandentia sending up its first purple-edge leaf swords, and both the biathlon and the nordic-combined world championships on television, the frogs had woken up.

I said hello, quietly, and asked it please not to move while I went for my camera. They take fright easily, some eventually learning to relax around us, others never failing to dive into the water directly I or anyone passes by them. He, or she, granted my wish, for a moment. In another second, he had ducked back into his watery place to hide, and I went off to see what was sprouting in the garden.

Now, it was time for my coffee and my morning email, Twitter and Facebook correspondence, and to upload my photos and consider a blog post. My old laptop takes its sweet time to boot, time to check the day's events on Eurosport, and when the first Tweets scrolled past, there was news of Zenyatta. She had given birth! A dark-bay colt, the spitting image of his lovely mother. 

As if the day needed another miracle to remind me of how beautiful life is. Sweet, intelligent and wondrously gifted and large-spirited Zenyatta, The Queen, had given birth to her foal with Bernardini, just hours ahead of her due date, under a full Kentucky moon, and her fans were rejoicing a new hope, another racing phenomenon to love and admire and cheer on, born of the intermingling of proud parents' proven genes. 

For now, it was quiet in her box, a mother kissing her long-legged, gangly, adorable newborn child, full of the promise of his family history, everyone who loves and cares for her daily at Lane's End Farm nearby to witness another legend opening its next chapter, and the season of foaling beginning with the greening and unfurling of the grasses.

....

http://www.zenyatta.com/diary/diary-post-454

For Surrey Storm, the handicap might be her size

Surrey Storm's lovely backside, Cagnes

She's a lovely 3-year-old with papers to make one dream, justifiably, but she's small, and that changes how you have to pilot her through the field.

I haven't been following this closely enough long enough to know just how much this is going to figure in the trajectory of her racing career, but it doesn't seem to be irrelevant. On the other hand, I have been following this just closely enough long enough to realize that first impressions have to be analyzed and parsed far more minutely for the information that really matters.

You didn't win, and you didn't place, well, it feels like a loss, even if you weren't the very last one past the post. You placed when you really thought you had a chance to win, and it feels the same way. You placed, but less well than you expected, yeah, the same. It's a horse race. It wouldn't be a race if the outcome were certain before the gate opened, otherwise, you could all just save everyone a lot of time and travel and just stay home, have the check deposited into your account with France Galop. In a race, things happen; what's important is what happened, and how that compares to the past and your expectations, and how you will develop the game-plan to get everything possible out of the horse.

Today, Milly, the yard name for Montjeu filly Surrey Storm, ran against some horses she has met on the racetrack here in France before, and she met some new ones. She did not better her performance against her old friends, Coolita and Tangoka; but, on the bright side, neither set the track on fire, either. Coolita finished some two lengths ahead of Milly and one out in front of Tangoka, but three and change behind the winner, Joly Berengere with Ioritz Mendizabal up for trainer Maxime Cesandri. By no means shaming to Milly.

Incidentally, it was Joly Berengere who delayed the course by several minutes when she broke from her stall before the gates opened, following the track employee who ducked away before the start. Cesandri's explanation of his filly's behavior was amusing: it's a bit of a family trait, not "méchant", or "bad", just a little, he shrugged, "bébête, "silly".

So what happened in this race? What does it signify for the next decisions to be made in training and in racing for the sometimes Fleet Fairy? Not having it from the proverbial horse's mouth, I can only hazard my own semi-educated guesses, but I'll take a stab.

I watched the video, stopping it and moving it backwards periodically to look at details again to try to get a sense of what was happening throughout the race. One drawback with camera angles is their tendency to flatten depth of field at critical moments; it's very difficult to judge distances and see the details, since un cheval en cache un autre, rather like, we are warned at train crossings here in France, trains; one horse hides another and her jockey. It's clear enough from the grandstand to the backstretch, and then when they switch cameras to a side or slightly to the rear angle in a turn, and once again when they are closing on the post, but a lot can get lost in that analysis.

Breaking from the gate, Milly ran easily enough with a nice action, overtaking several horses. Jockey Fabien Lefevbre settled her in behind the front runner and favorite, Zoe, flanked by Shiny Dream on the inside, with Distant Symphony a nose ahead on her outside in 3rd, followed right behind by Aponi in 5th. Coming out of the first turn, she's still in 4th place running alongside Distant Symphony, in "good position", as the announcer says, and a half length in front of Aponi.

The announcer remarks on the relatively easy-going pace of the race with Coolita showing a "brilliant" early effort, and Lady Ohara sitting patient on the outside at the rear of the pack. Joly Berengere begins to make her bid, overtaking Coolita and coming up on Zoe, who is still out in front, followed by Aponi in her wake. Right behind Joly Berengere is Distant Symphony, followed by Milly.

Just before the middle of the race, though, things begin to change, right about the moment that Fabien Lefebvre turns around in the saddle to look over his right shoulder at the horses behind him. There appears to be a jockeying for position. Held against the rail, it looks like Fabien is looking to see if he can move toward the outside without interfering with the horses just behind him and on the outside. It looks like there's a little contact and shuffling with Distant Symphony, whose jockey is looking for a way out, as well. Finally, he holds his place, and Milly drops back to the 8th or the 9th position, tight against the rail, where she stays, unfortunately, out maneuvered by the horses and their jockeys on the outside.

Where, in fact, she is pinned, until it's a moot point, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Coming into the backstretch, it's still Zoe in the lead by two lengths ahead of Coolita followed by Joly Berengere with Shiny Dream on her inside, followed closely by Aponi and Lady Ohara on her outside and Distant Symphony a half length behind. Then come La Jeremiah with Milly on her inside another length back, with Tangoka putting the pressure on them a half length behind.

The field is stretching out, and when the pace picks up 350 meters from the finish line, it's Coolita who makes a bid to outrun Zoe, with Joly Berengere and Lady Ohara on the far outside coming on strong. With 200 meters to go, it's three battling for the lead: Zoe, Coolita and Joly Berengere, followed tightly by Distant Symphony on the inside, Aponi in the middle and Lady Ohara coming up fast on the outside. Milly's still there, just behind Aponi.

Coming down to the post, the leaders continue their drive to the finish and gain ground on the rest of the entries. Milly loses some to Tangoka and Distant Symphony, some five lengths behind Zoe out in front, and then Fabien raises the whip twice as Joly Berengere takes the lead, followed by Lady Ohara on the outside, a nose ahead of Zoe on the inside, Aponi's a half length back, followed by another two lengths by Coolita a length ahead of Shiny Dream on the inside and Tangoka on the outside, just ahead of Milly, Surrey Storm in 8th place. She holds her pace, continues to stretch, and while she didn't overtake any horses, she wasn't passed, either. She simply didn't have it to pose a serious threat to the five crossing the finish line first, while Tangoka still looked to be within her reach. The question is why, because she wasn't exhausted.

The draw of the second position from the rail might have played into it, but she drew the number 1 spot last start and finished fifth, but it was with a smaller, more stretched-out field, in a race in which she was never seriously blocked against the rail and could have made a move to the outside at almost any moment, and did when the hole presented itself in the homestretch. It was an entirely different geometry. The only serious possibility of attack in this race came from the outside, as Lady Ohara demonstrated, and Milly couldn't get there.

The surface might have played a role, as well. Her last race was on the fibersand, whereas today was on a turf track judged soft by France Galop, and, then, there was the distance at 200 meters longer.

And, finally, or perhaps not finally -- I might have missed some things --, weight could be a factor. Little Milly carried an additional kg, equivalent to one place, over the distance, moving up from 56kg to 57kg, the weight most of the entrants was carrying. Only Aponi and Zoe were carrying less, at 54.5kg and 53.5kg, respectively.

The good points to take away were that she didn't give up, she held her own in the final stretch, and she was in the race, and Milly's 3-year-old season is young. She might suddenly become a big, strong filly, but she'll get stronger and she'll draw luckier places in the larger fields, and with each race, her trainer Gina Rarick will know better what to ask of her, and of her jockey, given the way the dice have fallen on race day.

Being the Fleet Fairy that she is, Surrey Storm requires a smaller hole to thread than a larger horse, and can perhaps do it more quickly, even she doesn't get "shuffled back" first.
....

Maybe Milly today: Surrey Storm races in Fontainebleau

Surrey Storm, "Milly", leaving Cagnes, February 17

This afternoon, the Fleet Fairy, Montjeu filly little Milly, or Surrey Storm as she's known on the racetrack, gets another start.

She'll be wearing the number 4 and has drawn the second place off the rail in the Prix de Samoreau, the 5th race at Fontainebleau, a 2200 meter race for 3-year-old fillies who have never won. Like like the last time she raced, three weeks ago in Cagnes-sur-Mer in the Prix des Glycines, jockey Fabien Lefebvre will be up. She'll be facing Night Tango filly Tangoka by trainer Mathieu Boutin, who passed the post just nostril hairs ahead of her in their last race, and One Cool Cat filly Coolita, who finished ahead of her in the sixth spot in her previous start, the February 8 Prix du Bord de Mer. Neither of these fillies' papers can hold a candle to Milly's, with all her promise as a racehorse.

Then again, not many thoroughbred horses' can.

Milly's last start was a breakthrough for this dainty little girl, the beginning of the Surrey Storm that's been expected to break over a racetrack. Coming out of the last turn and onto the homestretch, Fabien asked her to decide to race, and she did. She returned to her home, trainer Gina Rarick's yard in Maisons-Laffitte, two days after that race, and this time she had a luxury spot on the STH transport truck and received the consideration of not being unloaded last of all.

Right now, she is walking, warming up for post time in less than an hour. She knows why she's in Fontainebleau, and she understands what the other horses walking around and around the warm-up ring are there to do, too.

As for Fabien, his dance card is nearly as full as Ioritz Mendizabal's, racing in 5 of the 8 races. Mendizabal will be up in the 5th, as well, on Policy Maker filly Joly Berengere, who finished fifth and third in her first two races in Lyon in 2011, but finished "non classée" in Cagnes in January.

As for I, I will neither be taking nor making any phone calls from here until the race is over. I plan on rooting loudly for our Fleet Fairy from in front of the television.

As one of her owner's would say, Inshallah.
....

The STH transport to Maisons-Laffitte leaves with Milly