Visiting at Derby Time

[Wandering Eyes]

May is my favorite time of year at Liberation Farm in New Jersey. The harshness of winter on my San Diego toes and fingers has given way to the smiling faces of daffodils and geraniums and fuchsias and to the rejuvenating feel of my hands digging in the softening earth.

And of course, it’s Kentucky Derby time, the culmination of every breeder’s dream.

It’s a bittersweet time for me, now five years away from weekly trips to the Bluegrass. I don’t miss the airports or hotel rooms, but I greatly miss being around the mares and foals…especially in May…when the newbies jump and dance around in the field experiencing things for the first time, inquisitive, exuberant, inebriated by feeling their own quickness and power like a teenage boy stepping on the accelerator for the first time in his own hot rod.

And I miss looking at them and imagining what they’re going to look like when they’re under tack, and whether they’re going to have that same exuberance when they are asked the question at the head of the stretch.

This year’s Derby has some nice horses, a much deeper group than we have seen for many years. Two of my personal comforts are represented and both have a big chance…music (Mendelssohn) and red wine (Vino Rosso)…they make a pretty solid hunch exacta. But it looks to me like any one of eight could win if they show up with their “A” game or improve as young 3-year-olds can do.

As much as I love this time of year, it nonetheless tugs at my heart and at a semi-buried part of me that would like to have bred a Triple Crown winner before I stepped away. The best I could do was several “early favorites,” a Belmont winner, the dam of two other Belmont winners, and a third in the Derby (and two Kentucky Oaks winners).

That said, the thing I miss most is what brought me into the business in the first place…a plain old love of the horse…much like many a schoolgirl’s crush on their first pony. The highlight of my doctoral experience at Berkeley was the day that I discovered nearby Golden Gate Fields and fell in love with the elegance and majesty and athleticism of these special creatures.

I miss the tactile connection now, almost as much as I miss a few of the wonderful people who share that same love. I was blessed to be around some very talented horses over the years–champion Meadow Star and over 250 stakes horses and 20 Grade I winners that I helped bring into the world with my knowledge of handicapping and pedigrees.

But my favorite was this little guy who never raced. I brought him back from the other side of eternity and it took me six months of daily (sometimes hourly) TLC to help him stabilize and find his own legs after nerve damage during foaling. I fashioned PVC pipe braces with lambs wool inserts and changed them three times a day and dressed his sores that developed from rubbing, waiting for damaged nerves to repair in excruciatingly slow micro-degrees. He had such a will and a playful, determined eye and demeanor, so I persevered and one day he just jumped up and pranced around the stall…so pleased with himself and happy. That for me was much better than any garland of roses. And still is.

 

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