Shedrow (7 page)

GIANNI WAS HAPPY to leave Chet behind and find Jeff Willard in the paddock area before the race. Jeff seemed more nervous than usual, and even Chiefly Endeavor seemed a little more high-strung, his dark bay coat beginning to lather in the sun. Rafael Bejarano would ride Chiefly Endeavor again this time, and Jeff put his arm around the jockey and said, “Leave him covered up, behind some horses, but not too far back. If he’s running mid pack on the backstretch, I’ll be happy. You’ll know when to make the move.”

By the time Chet waddled into the paddock, the jockeys had already taken their mounts and the horses were parading around the cramped Gulfstream paddock. Chiefly Endeavor pranced in line with the others, then exited the paddock and prepared to join his lead pony out on the main track.

As Chiefly Endeavor left the paddock, a fan shouted loudly, “Go Rafael, you’re the man.” Bejarano smiled at the fan and raised two fingers in a “V” sign.

Gianni and Chet followed their trainer to a box just off the finish line, near the sixteenth pole. As Chiefly Endeavor walked by for the post parade, his rear legs gave a sideways cow-kick in the direction of his pony, causing the pony and rider to trot away.

“He’s never done that before,” Gianni said. “What the hell is wrong, Jeff?”

Jeff said nothing and remained focused on the post parade of horses, alternating his gaze from binoculars to the track. Chiefly Endeavor seemed to settle once his lead pony trotted away. Five minutes later, the relatively small field of seven horses lined up in the gate, and the announcer began his call of the race.

THEY’RE ALL IN LINE. AND THEY’RE OFF AND RUNNING IN THE FLORIDA DERBY. BROTHER BIRD BREAKS WELL, FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY ATONED…OH, NO— CHIEFLY ENDEAVOR HAS STUMBLED AT THE GATE, HE STUMBLED BADLY AND IS NOW WELL BACK BEHIND THE OTHER HORSES.

“Damn it! Is he all right?” Gianni said. He stood up and continued to follow the horse’s every stride through his binoculars.

SO IT’S BROTHER BIRD, CONTINUING TO SET THE PACE WITH ATONED JUST TO HIS OUTSIDE. THEN A GAP OF TWO TO REVENGENCE AND SACRED DANCE, WITH RIVERADO SAVING GROUND ON THE RAIL. AND THE QUARTER WENT IN 23 AND 3. ONLY EIGHT LENGTHS SEPARATES THE FIRST AND LAST HORSES NOW, AS CHIEFLY ENDEAVOR HAS RECOVERED NICELY AND STARTED TO RALLY AT THE BACK OF THE PACK.

“He’s moving well, now,” Jeff said.

“Goddamn,” Chet hollered. “Goddamn.”

THE HALF WENT IN 46 AND 3. SO THE PACE REMAINS STRONG, AND THEY’LL ALL HAVE TO CATCH BROTHER BIRD, WHO HAS OPENED A FIVE LENGTH LEAD AS THEY ROUND THE FAR TURN.

The announcer then screamed a guttural…

AND DOWN THE STRETCH THEY COME! BROTHER BIRD CONTINUES TO LEAD. JUST BEHIND HIM ARE SACRED DANCE AND REVENGENCE, THOSE TWO NECK AND NECK, HEADS BOBBING AS THEY NEAR THE EIGHTH POLE. AND NOW CONTINUING TO RALLY FROM THE BACK OF THE PACK, HERE COMES CHIEFLY ENDEAVOR, PASSING HORSES AND SUDDENLY FLYING TOWARD THE WIRE. CHIEFLY ENDEAVOR HAS JUST MADE A REMARKABLE, A SPECTACULAR LAST TO FIRST RUN, RECOVERING FROM A STUMBLE AT THE GATE TO WIN THE FLORIDA DERBY… AND THE TIME IS 1:47.82, A NEW TRACK RECORD ON THIS VERY FAST TRACK HERE AT GULFSTREAM PARK. BROTHER BIRD HELD ON FOR SECOND AND REVENGENCE WAS THIRD.

In the winner’s circle, a horseshoe shaped blanket of lavender orchids, seven feet long, was draped over horse and jockey. Gianni and Jeff Willard congratulated Rafael on his masterful ride, and Gianni patted the horse’s neck, wiping away some of the foamy lather.

While it was certainly a proud moment, Gianni cringed when Chet, more full of himself than ever, rumbled, “On to the Kentucky Derby.”

The 88 year old man was wheeled into Dr. Gianni’s office and ushered to a treatment room. Matt Kantor, the senior resident, was observing Gianni in his office for the day, and he had ordered the elderly man transferred from the emergency department.

The man had extensive bruising extending from his forehead to his neck, and the sclera of his right eye was bright red with blood. He had a stubbly white beard and thinning white hair, partially caked with dried blood. His chest and shoulders were slumped forward in the wheelchair, and a wide Velcro strap kept him partially secured in the chair.

Kantor was eager to take over in his evaluation of the new patient, and Gianni let him do so. Standing beside the man’s wheelchair, Kantor asked, “So what happened, Mr. Farrell?”

“Fell out of a chair,” the man said.

“And I see you are on Aricept, Diovan, Colace and aspirin? Anything else?”

“Whatever they give me.”

“Whatever who gives you?” Kantor asked.

“You know, the folks at the home.”

Kantor began to palpate the man’s cheek bone, while Gianni looked at a CT scan of the facial bones on a laptop computer that sat atop an adjustable stand in the corner of the examining room.

“How are his eye movements?” Gianni asked.

“No sign of entrapment, he’s following my finger just fine.”

“Any impingement of the coronoid?” Gianni asked.

“No, the jaw moves well, good excursions.”

“So what do you think then, Matt?” Gianni asked.

Kantor spoke to the patient. “Mr. Farrell, have they told you that your cheek bone is fractured?”

“Nope, nobody told me that.”

“Well it is, on the right side. We could do an operation to fix it.”

Gianni looked up from the screen, surprised to hear Kantor discuss surgery for the frail, elderly gentleman.

“It would be mainly for esthetics, though,” Kantor said.

Farrell looked up at Kantor, gave a sideways glance over at Gianni and said, “It’s a little late for that.”

Gianni laughed and said, “I think Mr. Farrell has just given a very informed refusal for this operation.” He went over to Farrell, crouching to a stoop and meeting the old man’s gaze at eye level and said, “We can check you again in a week or two, just to make sure everything is okay.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Do you have any family with you that you’d like us to speak
with?” Gianni asked.

“No, just me. Wife died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry. Any sons or daughters?”

“I have a son in California, but…I don’t get to see him much. They say I’m still competent to make my own decisions, you know.”

“I’m sure you are,” Gianni said. “We’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Sure, next week.”

Gianni turned to his resident and said, “Let’s go into my private office, Matt. We can review this CT together.”

While Gianni waited for Matt to discharge the patient and join him in the office, he took a waiting call from Stu Duncker. “Morning, Stu.”

“Anthony, I’m calling about Chiefly Endeavor. You know that he came out of that race quite sore, and there’s a little heat in that left front shin. We’ll do an ultrasound, though the vet doesn’t really suspect any structural issues. The bottom line is that he won’t be ready for a race in two weeks. We all had our hearts set on the Kentucky Derby, but I’m afraid it’s not meant to be. I’m terribly disappointed.”

“Naturally, I am too. But I understand, and would never want to chance something that wouldn’t be in the horse’s best interest. So maybe with a little rest, he’ll still make it to the Preakness, right? Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”

“Do you know the Winston Churchill quote about blessing in disguise?” Duncker said.

“I don’t.”

Duncker said, “Following World War II, when he lost the general election in 1945, his wife said just that. ‘Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.’ To which Churchill replied, ‘If it is, then it’s certainly a damn good disguise.’”

Saratoga Springs, NY
Two months later

Gianni and Jeff Willard sat at one end of the L-shaped bar in Chianti Il Ristorante, beginning a debate about who might be the greatest race track announcer of all time. It was exactly two days after the running of the Preakness Stakes.

“So who was it?” Jeff said. “Who was the greatest track announcer of all time?

Gianni looked up at a rack of assorted glasses above their heads, extending nearly the entire length of the bar. A row of small light fixtures was suspended from the ceiling, sending flickers of soft light through the glasses. “You mean in my lifetime?” he said.

“In your lifetime,” Jeff said.

“My God, there have been so many. I always remember Fred Caposella as a kid, then Chic Anderson and Marshall Cassidy. Tom Durkin is fantastic— I love his calls, very theatrical. I miss Vic Stauffer at Gulfstream. Remember his call at one of the California tracks when an earthquake erupted right during the race. Collmus is
good too, but… ”

“Okay, okay,” Jeff interrupted. “Let me rephrase the question: What was the best race call of all time for you personally?”

Gianni smiled. “No question about that one. The best race call of all time for me personally was when Dave Johnson bellowed: ‘
...AND DOWN THE STRETCH THEY COME IN THE PREAKNESS AND CHIEFLY ENDEAVOR IS DRAWING CLEAR.
’”

Jeff grinned and raised his glass high. “To the best race call of all time. Chiefly Endeavor’s win in the Preakness Stakes, last Saturday, Pimlico Race Course.”

Their wine glasses clinked.

“So now what?” Gianni asked.

“Well, he’s been somewhat plagued by sore shins ever since he came off the turf and switched to dirt. It’s an evolutionary flaw, really, that’s left the thoroughbred with these delicate, trifurcated suspensory ligaments that sit in spindly legs, with a ton of solid muscle working above.”

“Can he go back to the turf?” Gianni asked.

“I don’t know, Doc. He’ll be coming up here this week. Let’s just hope his ultrasound doesn’t show any holes or tears in the ligaments. We’ll give him some time off, and as long as the ultrasound is clear, we’ll let him gallop on the main track, or maybe even use the half mile oval in Claire Court. It’s soft, and usually kind on the horses, good for a gentle gallop. I certainly wouldn’t rule out a move to turf either.”

“Duncker mentioned that he’d like to think about running in the Travers Stakes,” Gianni said. “If he can stay sound running on dirt that would be fantastic, but there are certainly plenty of good
opportunities on turf too.”

“The Travers is certainly a possibility, and we have a good three months to decide. Then too, even if he never races again, he’s a son of Dynaformer and a Classic winner, so he has tremendous potential as a sire. After Barbaro, and with Dynaformer getting on in years, Kentucky would love to see Chiefly Endeavor in the breeding shed.”

“No doubt, that day will come,” Gianni said, “but I sure would like to see him campaign as a four-year-old. Right now, I’m starving. Shall we get a table?”

Five days later, Gianni’s spirits were still soaring from the Preakness win when he passed through the security gate on Union Avenue in Saratoga, entering the backstretch area of the Oklahoma training track. He drove towards the rail of the track and parked on the grass facing the stretch run.

A huge Hummer H2 drove up to the rail a few car lengths away, and Gianni noted the vanity plate…THE LUZ.
Who the hell would that be
? Gianni wondered. The door opened and out dropped Mike Luzzi, complete with helmet and flak jacket. Anyone would have looked small standing next to the mammoth SUV, but the compact jockey seemed particularly eclipsed by the vehicle. He was greeted by a chorus of “Hey Luz” from several of the dozen or so who stood along the rail watching the horses.

Well I’ll be damned, I never knew he was “The Luz
,” Gianni thought, though he certainly knew of his ability and popularity as a rider. His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill of a siren, a warning
usually indicating a loose horse that had either unseated a rider or become otherwise unmanageable. A frisky looking two-year-old was on the loose, bucking and galloping in the wrong direction, weaving around the few horses whose riders had not yet brought them to a secure stopping point along the outer rail.

Gianni raised his binoculars and looked across the track. He recognized the unseated rider as Manuel, one of Jeff Willard’s most experienced exercise riders. Manuel walked with a slight limp, but appeared mostly unscathed by the fall. A year earlier, an equally experienced rider from another barn hadn’t been so lucky, sustaining a fatal head injury after a fall on the same track.

Gianni then recognized Jeff Willard, galloping by on Amigo, his stable pony. Trainers sometimes watched their horses from the viewing stand, or sometimes joined the exercise riders on horseback themselves, to take advantage of that unique vantage point and the greater mobility. Jeff galloped up behind the loose two-year-old, and with the aplomb of a rodeo star, he rode alongside the horse, grabbed the loose rein and slowed both horses to a trot, then to a walk. The crowd that had gathered along the rail let out a cheer.

One of them yelled, “Hey Willard, if you weren’t so damn big, you’d make a hell of a jockey.”

“Easier than roping a calf,” Jeff yelled back.

A second siren signaled the all clear, and Jeff passed the reins off to another one of his riders, who walked the colt slowly off the track and back to his barn. Manuel walked along the grass outside the perimeter of the rail. He seemed fine now, with only his pride possibly hurting a bit.

Jeff stopped Amigo alongside the rail, close to where Gianni
was standing.

“Nice work,” Gianni said. “Is Chiefly Endeavor slated for a work today?”

Jeff appeared flustered. “You mean you don’t know?” he said.

“Don’t know what?”

Jeff grimaced and said, “I’ll be damned, you really don’t know.”

“Jeff, what the hell is it?” Gianni said.

“Chiefly Endeavor shipped back to Kentucky on Wednesday.”

“Jesus Christ, when was someone going to tell
me
that?”

“I’m sorry, Doc, but you know Duncker likes to deliver all the bad news himself. I had no idea that you weren’t in the loop.”

“So what’s the problem?” Gianni asked.

“We did another ultrasound here and it seemed to show an actual tear in the suspensory ligament, the front left. So naturally, Stu wanted him to go right to Rood and Riddle to get their expert opinion.”