Still a Shining Star...The Immortal Cigar!

The immortal, Cigar!

    
     For each of us, in our own very personal fashion, life is an ongoing battle, a struggle to balance responsibility and necessity with chance and desire, to temper the appetite for risk and adventure with a substantial dash of tincture of reality mixed gingerly with a dose of common sense.  In our youth, with ten thousand sunrises upon our horizon, balance allows the foolhardy adventure, the taking of frivolous chance, the quest of the improbable if not impossible dream, for surely at this juncture time is our friend and ally, giving ample opportunity for pursuit and, if need be, also for recovery and realignment.  As the memory of youth fades and the certainty of tomorrow's sunrise lessens, this balance for most now shifts towards caution and conservatism, for while the dreams remain ever strong and demanding, time is no longer perceived as the friend of the player.  Perhaps it is awareness of such reality that fuels the fires of nostalgia and a yearning for some bygone era which, seen through aging eyes, appears as a better and more meaningful time in the annals of our endeavor.  Perhaps.

     It is through such aging eyes that my vision seeks to reflect upon a great horse from a time past, not so very long gone, but nonetheless a time to which the young of today cannot reflect through personal recall, but can partake through the wonder of digital technology.  The concept of equine perfection has been a not uncommon topic of late, with the exploits of grand Zenyatta captivating all, and now Frankel and Black Caviar giving fodder to such conversation.  Such has not always been the case, however, that exceptional horses, the very best of a generation, would so regularly flirt with perfection, at least not over any extended span.  The reasons for this are uncertain and most certainly multiple but perhaps it is not unlikely that the lack of true "handicap" races in our modern era contribute to these currently witnessed prolonged winning streaks.  In a bygone time of true handicap racing, the vastly superior horses of the day were assigned weights of such magnitude that eventually the playing field was equalled to the point where the hero would finally succumb, not to opposition, but to the intolerable burden of weight and weight discrepancy.  Over the years the concept of true handicap racing became unacceptable to horsemen and they began declining invitations to race under such tremendous weight disparity.  Racing secretaries, under pressure to have their track remain competitive, progressively succumbed to the demands of the horsemen and the days of the true weight carriers were soon history, the exploits of the likes of Kelso and Forego never likely again to be witnessed. 

     The period of the 90's witnessed this evolution, and fewer and fewer horses were allowed to answer the bell when asked to give significant weight to their challengers.  There remained, however, the occasional holdout, that trainer and owner who believed that glory lay in the challenge of overcoming adversity and, if such undertaking resulted in defeat upon the racetrack, there was honor in such defeat.  Such men were Bill Mott and Allen Paulson, trainer and owner respectively of the mighty Cigar.  From October 28, 1994 through July 13, 1996, this magnificent bay horse was the very essence of racing perfection, winning an incredible 16 consecutive races while competing against the finest horses in the world.  As victory followed victory, participation in successive handicap races demanded more and more weight and more and more weight discrepancy between he and his opponents.  His final two starts in this string saw him carry 130 pounds while dispatching his over-matched opponents with apparent disdain.  His streak finally came to an end at Del Mar in the G1 Pacific Classic, defeat coming not because of weight, but because of an unfortunate and infrequent riding error on the part of his Hall of Fame jockey, Jerry Bailey.  That he was able to put together such a string of perfection, in so doing matching that of the immortal Citation, stands as a testament not only to his courage and brilliance, but also to the sportsmanship of his owner Allen Paulson and the training expertise of his trainer Bill Mott and his outstanding supporting team.

     Cigar retired in 1996 after failing by a short head to win consecutive runnings of the G1 Breeder's Cup Classic.  With career earnings standing at a then record $9,999,815, and an astounding 13 Grade One victories (plus 3 others that merited G1 ranking but did not meet the day's criterion for such recognition, including the inaugural Dubai World Cup), Cigar was retired just $185 short of the seemingly magical $10,000,000 earnings mark.  It always spoke volumes to me about those handling his career that they said, "he may have lost just a little step," put his best interests first, and retired him so close to this number.  It is well documented how Cigar sadly proved sterile.  His infertility resulted in him becoming the property of his insurer and they, in turn, retired him to the Kentucky Horse Park where he has been available to the public on a daily basis for so many years now.

  
      I have made it a habit to make the short journey to see Cigar at least twice yearly, often more frequently, ever since his retirement.  I gaze upon his grandeur as he blissfully ignores me leaning on his fence, me uttering some silly words in a futile attempt to catch his attention, he all the while I'm sure silently chuckling at the old fool calling to him from the fence.  I like to think of it as a little game we play while he, for his part, gives me little or no thought at all.  As I gaze upon him, one of the truly great horses in the history of the American Turf, I wonder why many others, enlightened and highly knowledgeable horsemen, fail to appreciate his true wonder.  There are accomplished horsemen who have never even once visited him, yet they will race around to every stud farm in Central Kentucky to stare upon stallions who could not have even warmed Cigar up on their very best days.  For a horse so magnificent in appearance and so accomplished in his career, it amazes me that he is so seldom mentioned when discussion turns to the best of the best.  Let me assure you, and of this have no doubt, when a horse takes on the very best the world has to offer over a two year period while overcoming burdens of weight, international travel and a multitude of racing surfaces, and in so doing is victorious in 16 consecutive races while winning effectively 16 Grade 1 races in his career, there is no horse...NO horse... that ever set foot upon a racetrack that had best not fear him!

     This past Wednesday I attended the Kentucky Racing Commission's meeting pertaining to the phasing out of Salix (Lasix) in Kentucky.  Leaving the meeting, and so tired of racing politics and the perpetual bad mouthing of the racing industry, I felt the need for an uplifting experience and so went to visit my old friend.  I drove the 1/4 mile to the Hall of Champions where he resides, arriving just in time to see the great horse being shown to an adoring public, a public I might add that averaged around 60 plus years of age.  After watching him being shown I quickly moved to his paddock fence and readied myself and my camera for the moment he was turned loose.  As you can see from the accompanying photos, the old boy at 22 years of age still looks tremendous, moves as smooth as silk, and remains a tremendous figure of a Thoroughbred.  As I look upon him I reminisce about his greatness and cannot help but wonder if I will ever see such accomplishments again in my lifetime...and I wonder why the old hardboots can't see and appreciate his wonder to behold, all in their own backyard.  I always intended to go to Maryland to visit Northern Dancer but always put it off for some reason until it was too late and the old fellow had died.  Cigar looks great but he's not getting younger.  Do yourself a huge favor and take the trip to the Horse Park, bring your camera, and gaze upon true greatness and one of the finest horses America has ever produced.

                    

Some Kind of Doll

     I've been  a fan of Buff Bradley and his racing family for some time now, stemming without doubt from my respect and affection for his wonderful campaigner, Brass Hat, a "Bradley" from top to bottom.  Anybody who has ever raced a home bred well understands how such an experience is always just a little more special, a little more intense, than racing one that you've become involved with a little further down the road.  Don't misunderstand, now, racing is absolutely thrilling no matter the circumstance, but there is something about seeing one of your own babies being saddled in the paddock then prancing in the post parade ablaze with your racing colors, a near paternal or maternal pride that comes from gazing upon your creation, that special one who would not exist had it not been for your vision.  Unfortunately, from purely a pragmatic perspective, the reality of racing is such that more often than not the racing world might be better off without your creation, for one truth of breeding is the trend for generations to maintain mediocrity, the tendency for any species to return to the norm, towards the center of the bell-shaped curve.  Alas, breeders are a fool hardy group if nothing else, and it is with the hope, prayer and firm belief that they might prove the exception to the rule that they remain steadfastly encouraged.  Such confidence allows them to pay mostly exorbitant breeding fees to proven stallions who in truth give little hope for reasonable return on investment or, alternatively, to support unproven studs with at best questionable credentials, these offering even less hope of striking the equine pot of gold.  It is, however, this dream of the "big horse," the understanding that, although rare, the special horse can and does happen, that feeds the dream and fuels the fire of all who love and breed the Thoroughbred.  This, and the appreciation for the wonder of all horses, champions and not, magnificent beasts who by their mere presence make our life more fulfilling and wonderful regardless of racing success or failure...but it sure doesn't hurt if they can run more than a little!

Brass Hat, with my very good friend and racing buddy, Willie Koester (he also with a great hat!)

Brass Hat, Churchill Downs, Buff Bradley barn

Brass Hat

    

     Surely Buff and his father Fred had lived the relative highs and lows of both the breeding and racing worlds before the arrival of Brass Hat, and one can only wonder at the pride and appreciation they felt for this outstanding horse.  It was my pleasure to see Brass Hat race on a number of occasions and also to be present when he was paraded in the Keeneland paddock at the time of his retirement.  Surrounded by their many friends, all of whom were clearly included within Brass Hat's legion of fans, this was a time of mixed emotion I'm certain, a sadness that no more would they thrill to his courageous performances, great pride that he indeed was one of their own, the joy and happiness coming from the knowledge that the rigors of many long and arduous racing campaigns had been survived and he was retiring upon his own terms, and most assuredly a peace that comes from a great weight of responsibility being lifted from tired shoulders, for with a favorite such as Brass Hat comes a burden of responsibility to his many adoring fans. 

Fred Bradley, Brass Hat, and Buff Bradley, retirement ceremony in Keeneland paddock

Brass Hat with Buff

Brass Hat with a very proud Buff Bradley

     I've never spoken to Buff about this, for in fact we are more correctly acquaintances than close friends, but I would suspect that he never expected another Brass Hat to enter his life, or at least not so immediately after the retirement of his old warrior.  Good fortune, however, has a way sometimes of continuing to smile upon good people, and the Bradley clan was so blessed.  She came in the form of the now very accomplished filly, Groupie Doll.  Beginning her racing career around the time Brass Hat was winding down, Groupie Doll broke her maiden in her 2nd start at Churchill Downs, winning a straight maiden by 31/2 lengths while travelling 6 1/2 furlongs in 1:16.56.  Seventeen days later found her at Ellis Park where she toyed with non winners of 2 rather easily, drawing off to win by 81/2 lengths while covering 7 furlongs on a sloppy track in 1:23.53.  Without doubt by this time Buff and his family knew they had themselves another serious race horse, and any doubts about this were emphatically removed when she next defeated a very fine field of fillies and mares while winning the 1 mile, G3 Gardenia Stakes at Ellis in 1:37.37 on August 13, 2011.  Thus, in the short time span of little over 2 months she had rattled off 3 consecutive victories and had become a graded stakes winner to boot!  Certainly, a rather auspicious beginning to her career.  To hope for more is normal human nature...to expect more, however, borders on unrealistic...

     ...but, when you're on a roll, you're on a roll!  The youngster faced the starter on four subsequent occasions during her sophomore season, these efforts resulting in further stakes placings including a narrow defeat in the prestigious G2 Raven Run at Keeneland.  Her season culminated in victory in open allowance company at Gulfstream in December of 2011, where she dominated her competition while getting the mile in a very good 1:35.29, this resulting in final season tallies of 8-4-2-0, G3 SW, G2 SP, and earnings of $272,536.  Not bad for a young lady following in the footsteps of her much vaunted and adored "step brother," Brass Hat, and, like fine wine...

     ...she got even better!  Oh my, how she got better.  With no real break from the rigors of training, she surfaced again at Gulfstream on January 27 in an allowance race against the boys, and here just failed to hold off the well thought of Boys At Tosconova, losing a very hard fought battle by 3/4 length.  Not ducking any man's horse, Buff threw his rising star in against the best females in the country in the G3, 1 1/16th mile Sabin, where she put forth tremendous effort.  While finishing a well beaten 3rd to Awesome Maria, she was defeated by last years champion 3 year old filly, Royal Delta, by only a short head for second money.  This was really a stellar performance, at a distance perhaps slightly beyond her very best, and against a mare that was unlikely to be defeated by any horse of either sex on that particular day.  Next, dropping back to 7 furlongs 3 weeks later, Groupie Doll again put forth an outstanding effort in the Inside Information Stakes, closing well throughout the stretch while ultimately losing to defending sprint champion, Musical Romance, by 1 1/2 lengths.   This was a victory well deserved by the winner, she giving a significant 4 pounds weight concession to Groupie Doll on this occasion, but the outstanding performance continued to serve notice that this little "doll" had become a very serious race horse! 

     With winter now becoming a memory, Groupie Doll moved with the Bradley horses to their home base at Churchill Downs, where she trained strongly in preparation for the G1 Vinery Madison.  Run under allowance conditions, Musical Romance was again asked to give weight to Groupie Doll, 123 to 118 pounds, but on this occasion the combination of the weight discrepancy and an obviously improving Groupie Doll proved far too much for the defending champion, as Groupie Doll put it all together at the right time, exploding down the long Keeneland stretch to draw off and win by 3 lengths.  I was fortunate to be there for this exceptional performance (I'm not kidding anybody, am I...I'm always at Keeneland!) and was captivated, first by the performance of this fine filly, and second by the outpouring of affection and happiness shown the Bradleys upon this occasion of their very special victory at this grandest of race tracks.  Tears flowed immediately after the race like I suspect wine flowed later that evening, and rightly so.  Another very good thing, happening to very good and deserving people.

Groupie Doll, paddock at Keeneland

    

Groupie Doll

coming on to the track at Keeneland

post parade, Rajiv Maragh wearing the Bradley colors

    

anxious moments before the race, Fred and Buff Bradley

taking command in the G1 Vinery Madison

widening

not to be denied

big screen tells the story

 

an ecstatic Buff with good family friend and outstanding horse woman, Susie Oldham

"...worth a thousand words!"

Fred Bradley, the joy of victory

congratulations all around, Buff with Groupie and Rajiv

      Attention now turned to Churchill Downs and Derby Day in Louisville, Kentucky.  A stellar card preceded the running of the 138th Derby.  Among the most highly anticipated match ups was the G1 Humana Distaff at 7 furlongs and a third meeting, the "rubber match," between Groupie Doll and Musical Romance.  The latter was back at the site of her greatest victory, that coming in last year's Breeder's Cup Filly and Mare Sprint.  Here she was to again face her Madison conqueror but this time without weight concessions, each lady sharing high weight of 123 pounds.  The anticipation was that of another close, hotly contested finish, but on this day none of the aforementioned appeared to matter.  On some days, in a rare circumstance, a horse will simply enter into some sort of "zone," an unexplained and poorly understood place where everything simply comes together as if by divine command, perhaps akin to a symphony, struggling to be as one, suddenly coming together in total unison, each component perfectly complementing the other, resulting in the creation of ethereal music beyond man's comprehension.  Such things happen also to athletes, sometimes just for an instant, sometimes for an entire competition, occasionally for a prolonged period of time, an unexplained interval of absolutely superior performance against which others are helpless regardless of their effort.  Great horses will do such things and are forever remembered for the effort, here recalling Secretariat and his still unbelievable Belmont Stakes, or old, arthritic mighty Forego defeating Honest Pleasure in the Marlboro on a sloppy Belmont track that he despised while giving that champion 18 pounds, 137 to 119, and running the 1 1/4 miles in 2:00 flat.  Wise Dan, not yet a proven great but clearly one of great talent, had such a moment very recently at Keeneland in the Ben Ali...and Groupie Doll had her moment on this special day in front of 160,000 screaming fans as well as before the hushed, venerable Twin Spires, they gazing down from their lofty perch, surely smiling in quiet approval.  Challenging the pace early, Groupie Doll was absolutely not to be denied this day, and by the 5/16th pole had grabbed total control of this race and this excellent field, from that point steadfastly widening, never faltering, her tremendous foundation of racing and training giving strength as others weakened, poles flashing by as she widened and quickened her fluid stride.  Reaching the wire some 6 lengths ahead of the gallant Musical Romance, the timer was stopped in NTR time.  The splits for the race were 22.42, 44.57 (22.17), 1:08.04 (23.47), with the final time of 1:20.44 (12.40)!  Over many years of racing at this old track, many great...truly great...horses have run this distance.  None has ever before run this fast!  No small accomplishment for a home bred from the Bradley family farm.

    

Groupie Doll,post parade, G1 Humana Distaff

Totally in control approaching the 5/16ths pole

widening in stretch



Groupie Doll...in full flight!

the wire looms...

...and no competition to be found

Grade 1 victory, Fred Bradley leads Groupie Doll, while Buff walks to his side

     Now a duel Grade 1 winner, Groupie Doll is currently being given some well earned rest at the farm where I suspect she's doing a little bit of bragging to the resident bragger out there, old Brass Hat.  Love to listen in on that conversation!  I suspect that Brass Hat might just be doing a little bit of "embellishment" while recalling his tales to this wide eyed young lady.  No need to do that, old friend.  The truth of your career is story enough!

     It will be very interesting to see how Groupie Doll progresses from here.  There can be no question she is the leading female sprinter at this time, but as good as she is she has a ways to go to threaten the hold Brass Hat has on the Bradley heart strings...but she's trying.  Has she played her strongest hand, and from here will become one of a number of very talented and competitive older filly and mares, fine racing ladies who will take turns defeating each other?  Or might she evolve into the next Informed Decision, a 7 furlong wonder, near unbeatable at that particular distance but more vulnerable going shorter or longer?  Or could she possibly, as unlikely as it sounds, continue to improve, go from strength to strength, and dominate the distaff sprinting ranks like some of the greats of a former time, those of the ilk of Xtra Heat, Pine Tree Lane, Gold Beauty, or Safely Kept?  We await with great interest.  For certain, if she does no more, she has surely surpassed the highest expectations once held for this daughter of Bowman's Band and Deputy Doll.  We know she is in most capable hands, Buff Bradley having already clearly demonstrated his ability to bring forth talent when it is present.  We simply must now wait and see.

     The real question just might be, who else is Buff hiding in his barn?  First Brass Hat, now Groupie Doll, and we all know what they say about things coming in threes...


Murray West

(again, photos from Churchill were shot from high up in 3rd floor Clubhouse so forgive a little lack of clarity if you will)       












    

        

"The King is Dead...Long Live The King"...ahh, not quite

         In an era of race management when less is considered better, where caution so commonly precludes daring, and where medication and veterinary participation often appears to trump conditioning and old fashioned horsemanship, the careers of Shackleford and Amazombie stand as shining examples of what can and should be great about horse racing. 

     The beautiful Shackleford, now a regally mature 4 year old colt, has thus far faced the starter on 15 occasions, his most recent outing coming in the G2 (surely soon to be G1) Churchill Downs Handicap on Derby day.  Breaking his maiden in his 2nd outing at Churchill late in his 2 year old campaign, this chestnut beauty stepped into the gate 10 times in last season's sophomore season, never once missing a dance.  He participated in each of the Triple Crown races, deservedly winning the G1 Preakness in a stirring finish over G1 Kentucky Derby victor Animal Kingdom, that victory preceded by a head defeat to Dialed In in the G1 Florida Derby and a hard fought, pace setting 4th place finish to the aforementioned subsequent Eclipse winning Animal Kingdom in the Derby.  Testing the very bounds of his pedigree, he finished a very creditable 5th in the G1 Belmont after setting and forcing the pace in the early running of that Classic event, stopping only when his genetic code screamed, "no more."  A brief 6 week freshening found him again back at the wars, participating in the G1 Haskel (2nd, beaten a neck), G1 Travers, G2 Indiana Derby (2nd to Wilburn defeating Caleb's Posse), finally culminating his season with an excellent 2nd to Caleb's Posse in the G1 Breeder's Cup Dirt Mile.
    
     Already this season, in his 4 year old campaign, he had participated in 2 G1 races prior to the Churchill Downs Handicap, having finished unplaced in the 1 1/8th G1 Donn Handicap at Gulfstream in February, followed by a close 3rd, beaten only 1 1/2 lengths, in the G1 Carter Handicap at Aqueduct on April 14th of this year.  It was no surprise, therefore, that his showdown with 2011 Eclipse award winning sprinter, Amazombie, was eagerly anticipated.  Whether he was quite good enough to defeat that champion at his own game was uncertain.  What was very certain was that he would give everything he had, that he would lay it all on the line in his quest for victory, for he appears to know no other way to run.  How can one not love and admire him for those qualities, for these characteristics indeed define the highest in man and racehorse.

     No less could be said about the grand gelding Amazombie, the reigning Eclipse award winning sprinter from California, himself an older version of Shackleford, racing now at age 6 and showing no sign of declining ability nor lessening desire.  He also had previous 2 starts in his 2012 campaign, his return to battle coming in the G2 San Carlos at Santa Anita in late February where he finished a very good 3rd to the highly primed The Factor, followed 6 weeks later by a relatively easy victory in the G2 Portrero Grande at Santa Anita where he covered 6 1/2 furlongs in a blistering 1:14.16.  Sporting a most impressive career record of 25-11-4-6 while competing against the very best sprinters in North America, it was clear that this grand warrior also came to the 78th running of The Churchill Downs Handicap in highest form.  The stage was set, therefore, for a showdown between these two, the younger Shackleford, a Classic winner at 1 3/16ths miles who otherwise battled hard but unsuccessfully at route distances, attempting now to find his proper niche in the racing world, and the older Amazombie, primed to defend his position against any pretenders to his sprinting crown, burdened on this day with a 5 pound penalty for being so good, so honest, so consistent, the penalty based upon some logic that is so illogical and antiquated as to defy common sense.

Shakleford, post parade, Jesus Castenon up

        

Amazombie, post parade, Mike Smith up

     The race exceeded expectation, with Shackleford jumping quickly to the fore with Amazombie in hot pursuit, and around the far turn, 1/2 mile from home, these two were running virtually as one, locked in fierce combat.  Turning for home, 1/4 mile to run, Shackleford to the inside held a short lead over Amazombie who was lapped on his shoulder, and they resolutely widened on the others as they challenged each other and the gruelling Churchill stretch.  They old race caller's term, "stride for stride, noses apart," was never more appropriate, for this is what transpired as these two grandest of Thoroughbreds charged down the stretch... 

     I have often, in my mind, equated the distance of Thoroughbred races to human equivalents.  For the latter I believe that no race is more gruelling, more exhausting, than the 400 meter sprint, 1/4 mile at 95 % top speed, no opportunity to relax, no opportunity to regroup and take a much needed deep breath, no opportunity to gain relief for painful, rapidly fatiguing muscles suffering from lactic acid accumulation resulting from their prolonged anaeobic efforts.  Instead, the daunting challenge calls for them to "Sprint, Sprint, Sprint," constantly under pressure from others equally committed and equally determined, perhaps equally talented, one faltering stride or any indication of weakness resulting in near certain defeat.

      Such is how I envision the 7 furlong sprint for Thoroughbreds, with fractions not unlike those for a 5 or 6 furlong dash...21.96, 44.17, 1:08.18...with the necessity to now finish one more final 1/8th and, if victory is to be yours, finish it fast!  And finish they did, a final clocking of 1:21.06, Shackleford on the rail ever so slowing inching away from the gallant Amazombie to his outside, the margin at the wire perhaps 3/4 length after 1 minute and 21 seconds of near constant maximal exertion, the margin of victory likely the difference of an inside run as opposed to outside, 118 pounds as opposed to 123.  I read somewhere, written by one of our leading trade journalists (who should caution to be more precise with the use of language), that Shackleford "out gamed" Amazombie.  Out gamed?  Nonsense!  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Did he "out finish" him?  Yes.  Did he "outrun" him?  Yes, that must also be fair to say.  But "out game" him, show more courage than he?  No bloody way!  Amazombie ran further by virtue of the luck of post position draw, and carried more weight (5 pounds) by virtue of superior recent accomplishment (and for this achievement was penalized ???).  Defeated, yes.  Out gamed?  What a foolish statement.

     Were these differences enough to account for the outcome, victory for Shackleford, defeat for Amazombie?  No one could say definitively but, given the running of the race and the margin of victory, I cannot help but feel that were the roles reversed the outcome would have been different, for surely 5 pounds over 7 furlongs must equal at least 3/4 length?  But such is the nature of racing, and such comments are in no way meant to diminish the tremendous victory by Shackleford who I believe to be an immensly talented, versatile and thoroughly courageous Thoroughbred, traits which should be in much demand when his time comes to retire to the breeding shed.  Rather, I think that we had best not crown a new sprinting King quite yet, for I suspect the old boy Amazombie will have quite a bit to say yet about such things down the road, especially since the Breeder's Cup will be run at his home track at Santa Anita.  The old fellow might do well, however, what with all the hotshot sprinters around the country waiting in the shadows, to catch Shackleford's ear and suggest to him that he just might want to again consider the Dirt Mile as his year end target.  It could well be that come this Novemeber Shackleford will require no weight concession and post position will cease to be an issue so, if the opportunity were to arise, why not give some free elderly advice to the youngster and suggest he look elsewhere than the sprinting title for his Eclipse?  Never hurts to offer a little free advice, now does it?  Cagey old fox, that Amazombie!     
    

turning for home, Shakleford on the rail, Amazombie outside

approaching the 1/8th pole

a nose apart, as close as courageous Amazombie can get

Shackleford inches ahead, now a head at the 1/16th pole

a head becomes a neck...

then 3/4 length at the wire

replay of finish

a very happy Jesus Castenon and a very tired Shackleford return victorious

     These photos were taken from our seats in row J of 3rd floor Clubhouse, so were from quite a distance.  They are not as sharp as one would like, but hopefully serve well enough to showcase this brilliant race.

Murray West