Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill (17 page)

She began plucking the leaves and scattering them along the
velvet
wind. 
"
Throw your rose petals to the wind on a moonlit night and your wishes will all come true.
"

"
You get on him my beautif
ul girl, just like I taught you.  H
old him tender under your hand, but show him you expect everything out of him…hold him just a bit in the beginning and when you get around the second turn just let his head go and hang on tight.
"

Jolene shivered under the moonlight holding the moment
.  Tears
soaked
her face.  She stood surrounded by her rose petals. 

And whispers of her father.

Dreams of the past, dreams of the future
.

Dreams cast upon the wind
.

"
I
'
ll do it exactly like that Daddy.
"

Chapter
8

Man o'War was not an easy horse to break, showing much of the fiery nature inherited from Fair Play and Hastings, probably enhanced by the nervous
energy coming from Mahubah and
Rock Sand. As a yearling, he had been a gawky, spare-looking individual that appealed to many, including Riddle, as a potential hunter-jumper. Many considered him something short of elegant, but he filled out into a truly magnificent specimen, tall and powerfully muscled, with the high head carriage of the Fair Plays. Man o'War's running gait was unusual, a bounding leap that covered a tremendous amount of ground. He was a free-running horse and despite his size, showed tremendous agility and acceleration at the break.
  Thoroughbred Heritage Portraits - July 23, 2012.

The clear moon had fooled everyone because at 3:00 a.m. the clouds rolled in and it poured
rain
.  Jolene
'
s Granny would have said,
"
It rained cats and dogs.
"
 

Big Storm
pranced nervously in his stall.  The rain
still
made him crazy
even after all his training
.
  Jolene couldn
'
t much blame him. 
But u
nlike him,
for reasons she could not fathom
,
s
he loved to stand on her parent
s
'
front porch and watch the rain come in.  You could see it for miles
before it arrived
.  If the sun was
shining through
any clouds she could almost always see a rainbow somewhere along the rolling hills. 

Patrick
had wanted to
book
hotel
rooms
and take Big Storm a d
ay early like most of the horse owners did
,
but Jolene insisted they would get up early and take Big Storm
the day of the Derby
.  He would not sleep well in a strange barn. 
And apparently the
lightning
storms were even worse in Louisville. 

Storm
had to be seen by doctors and have a few tests, so they got up just at 3:00 a.m. and load
ed
him….he was
fighting them hard
because of the rain
,
lightning and thunder.  But they did get him in
to the trailer
with
a great deal of coaxing by
Jolene.

They were taking a couple of trailers with everything in them
, i
ncluding her Derby uniform.  It was
red
, gold and white and it bore the
coat of arms
of the Earl
of Meath
.
 
Patrick
said the title was created in 1627.
 
It was embroidered on the back of her jockey shirt. 
Patrick
had it special made and Jolene was certain she had never worn anything so fine.  The coat of arms
was red scrolls with a night
'
s helmet on top and three birds across a flag. 

At the top of the coat of arms it read
Vota Vita Mea
. 
Patrick
told her that it meant.

Prayers are my life.

The rain stopped
while they were driving
but
Jolene fretted about Big Storm
continu
ing
to
prance in his trailer even in the small space he
was in
.

Jolene had never been so scared in her life.  Her finger
s
shook
when she adjusted the radio
and her heart pounded the
entire
trip
. 

Patrick
didn
'
t seem much better
though he tried to hide his emotions
.  He was quiet and serious in a way Jolene had never
witnessed
.

Bernie and Herbert
attempted to lighten things by
mak
ing jokes in the big Ford SUV.  They
even
resorted
to
playing
some of
Patrick
'
s favorite Irish ballads
on cd
.

Entering Louisville, e
ven this early in the morning with the sun barely coming up beyond the tall white spires
,
people were already waiving their signs. 

"
Park here for $20.
"
 

C
hildren r
an
around in the
ir
front yards
in bare feet excited about Derby day even if they had only
ever
viewed Churchill Downs from the outside
.  Its
white towers that could be seen for miles like a double
c
hurch steeple
,
shadowed the surrounding neighborhoods.
 
Churchill Downs
was their
lifeblood and the Derby brought
in
the pretty people in suits, dresses and hats parking and walking by
. 
Those pretty people who came to the Derby
were
part of another kind of life that was different and spectacular. 

Barbeques were smoking
and homemade signs were hung with balloons that read
"
Stop here
for b
arbeque and
b
eer
.
"

Nearly all of the little wooden
houses were decorated for the big day. 
Since
Churchill Downs sat in the middle of an older city
of
resident
ial
homes, its tenants
were
an intricate
part of the Derby
.  Ev
ery house had
people preparing for the races. 
 

They were poor houses. 

But not on Derby day.

Everybody
put on their best shine and
made their money on Derby Day.

Even this early in the morning the women who sat on the porches or manned the barbeques wore tank tops and shorts, the wardrobe staple of the south.
  Men wore white
tee
shirts
and jeans s
port
ing
their exotic
tattoos.  S
ometimes
their arms and shoulders were completely covered in ink with symbols, signs and picture
s
intermingled in
a
complex raw beauty to tell a story
that
only they
completely
understood
. 

They watched the scenes
of
the Derby in
individual
vicarious position
s
where they could also dance with
in
the moment
with those pretty people who parked and walked past them to the front gate, or rode in hired golf carts
, waving and
friendly
when on other days they might be afraid.
 

Jolene was always one of them.
The one running in bare feet seeing the world vicariously and not truly understanding what it was to live their lives.

Until
Patrick
.

Until this moment. 

She wasn
'
t just at the Derby.

She was going to be in it.

Riding Big Storm.

Just like her father had dreamed about
the day Storm was born
.
 

Jolene turned her face
away from
the window
shaking her mental voyage
.  She would not take any journey right now
except the one to the finish line at Churchill Downs
.  One thing her father always told her about being a jockey
was
,
"
Y
ou have to focus and put everything out of your head but the horse.  Feel him.  Know him.
  Become him.
"
 

If you are distracted Jolene, he will be distracted too.
  Forget the tank tops and the poor children with short fuzzy red hair running with no shoes.  Don
'
t worry about who is going to park on the lawn or whether they will sell
b
arbeque.  God takes care of all things big and small.

They
had pinned
Jolene's
wild
hair tightly
and her head was already
smarting
from the countless barrette
s
and pins
Mata
had nervously poked all over her
scalp
.  She came dressed
already in her jockey outfit
, not wanting a scene with the other jockeys just in case they shared a locker room.

Besides, she didn
'
t want to talk to any of them anyway
unless it was necessary
.

It was a
nother distraction
she didn
'
t need
.

They unloaded Big Storm and sent
Jolene
off
with the other jockeys
to the waiting room
. 
In the waiting room n
o one
communicated with her other than eye contact and a nod.
  But she couldn
'
t blame them after all.  They all knew each other.  Raced together.  It was a club and she was not one of them.

A few smiled and wished her well. 

She smiled back and
returned the kindness
.

She
soon took to pacing
around the room in her little white pants, thankful she was slender and
not very tall for a woman
because she was certain she was the biggest one in this room.

Good thing Big Storm was
b
ig.

Chapter
9

A
match race had been offered and agreed upon between the 3-year-old sensation Man o'War and the older champion Sir Barton, who dominated his crop at 3 and 4. The previous season, Sir Barton had won the Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont Stakes, before that race became known as "the Triple Crown" of American racing. In the match race at 10 furlongs, known as the Kenilworth Park Gold Cup, Man o'War ran Sir Barton off his feet and won by 7 lengths in a humiliating display of superiority. That said, Sir Barton was giving the year-younger colt 6 pounds and was suffering a flare up of chronic hoof problems at the time. A film of the race shows Sir Barton floundering behind Man o'War the entire trip, looking like a beaten horse every step of the way.

That final victory marked the end of Man o'War's race career, of 20 wins in 21 starts and $249,465 in earnings, a new record. Owner Riddle opted to retire him at this young age rather than face the crushing weights the handicappers had promised to impose on the red horse to make it fair for his opposition. Man o'War retired to Hinata Farm, north of Lexington, Kentucky which Riddle leased while shopping for a farm of his own. The horse and his retinue of mares and youngstock was relocated to Faraway Farm a couple of years later where Man o'War remained one of the biggest tourist attractions in the state until his death.
  Thoroughbred Heritage Portraits - July 23, 2012.