- December 11, 2019
- Sean Clancy
Contributions from TIHR co-founder, editor and writer Sean Clancy.
It was too good to be true. Veterans’ chase. Right-handed. Nine entries. Valuable prize. High weight. Fresh off a win. I’ll be there.
So, where were we?
Rough day at Callaway Gardens Saturday. Jockeys and horses hitting the ground. Stellar racing. With a cost.
There is nothing like the separation, the sequester, the purgatory of a plane ride. Especially one from overseas. London Heathrow to Washington Dulles. I lost the timeframe in the pilot’s opening salvo…delay…headwind…make up time in the air…eight, hour hours, some amount of minutes. I’m on my third movie, after a fitful nap, maybe two, and a serving of pancetta macaroni and cheese (actually not bad) and wondering what I’m missing down below.
No jet lag here.
I’ve been trying to put Far Hills into words and will at some point this week. Here and in the Irish Field.
“Can you come on the show…?”
She was the first first responder.
I would not have become a jockey without Paddy Neilson.
Before school, my last two years of Unionville High School. Monday to Friday, one set. Eight dollars a horse, plus breakfast. Neilson’s wife, Toinette, toasted cinnamon rolls, I’d run up the steps, take a quick shower, pull on a slightly cleaner set of clothes, eat breakfast and listen to lectures and lessons from my mentors. Toinette, I had known her since she galloped and rode races for my father starting at Delaware Park in the 1970s, a great rider, a great cook, a great friend. She offered subtle points.