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Sean Clancy My friends at HRTV asked me to come on the show and talk about the Eclipse Awards for steeplechasing. They asked me to talk about the three finalists – this was before the finalists were announced – and I quickly told them there were only two. Demonstrative and Divine Fortune.
Jockeys smeared Vaseline over their hands, then baby powder, then Latex gloves, then insulated gloves and headed to the paddock at Laurel Park Thursday. The temperature hovered at 15 degrees, at least that’s what was registered. Wind chill, ‘feels-like’ temperature, forget it, that was Shackleton.
Jockeys smeared Vaseline over their hands, then baby powder, then Latex gloves, then insulated gloves and headed to the paddock at Laurel Park Thursday. The temperature hovered at 15 degrees, at least that’s what was registered. Wind chill, ‘feels-like’ temperature, forget it, that was Shackleton.
Night check. Every night, after dinner, we trek to the barn. Some days, it’s comforting, almost therapeutic, a stroll, past the apple tree on the left, winding between the fence rows of the front field and back field, along the stone driveway, down the incline to the bank barn built in 1890. Tonight, it’s anything but comforting, the wind whips like it’s finishing a grudge, my nose instantly drips, on command. I don’t dare check a thermometer. I pull my wool hat down, over my ears, and zip my down jacket to my chin. A stray cat, well, once-a-stray cat meows – more like a screech – from his makeshift bed next to the door. I walk head-on into the wind, the sky is bright for this time of night, one lone light shines from across two cow fields, I wonder if our neighbor is doing night check too.
Glad that’s over. Christmas is gone, New Year’s Eve complete. The only thing left to do is drag the Christmas tree to the woods and pay the credit card bills. The former is bittersweet, the latter is bitter. But think of all the fun we had.
It’s the last Saturday before Christmas, the second-to-last Saturday before New Year’s, it’s time to make the money to buy the presents to keep your family and friends joyous and fulfilled.
Willie McCarthy earned his first jockey championship this year. The 31-year-old Irishman won 23 races from 91 rides, stamping a nine-win margin on former champions Paddy Young and Ross Geraghty.
Hello, neighbor.
I found Wicked Strong. Finally. For months, I had been talking about going to see the Jim Dandy winner. I hate to say it, yes, months. As the crow flies, he’d been living about two miles from me at Centennial’s Middleburg farm. I’ve jogged past his barn, driven past his paddock, talked about going to see him, planned on going to see him. Finally I stopped to say hello. Evidently, I even need deadlines to visit horses, as I knew he would be leaving soon. Better get there.
Every once in a while, in mid-sentence or mid-battle of mid sentence, when the words aren’t coming and I’m toiling, I lean back and grab a book off the shelf to the right of my desk. It’s a wide variety – the Red Smith Reader, Paul Theroux’s To the Ends of the Earth, Kerouac’s On the Road, The Art of Fielding, Tesio’s Breeding the Racehorse…some I’ve even read.
Miles turns 6 today. What a journey.
Before Miles, I used to think there was a chance of getting hurt, of feeling pain. Now I realize the true potential of getting hurt, of feeling pain. When he was born, everything changed. I guess it’s like this for all parents – I hope it’s like this for all parents. I remember lying on a hospital cot, next to Annie, the night after he was born, I folded my hands across my chest and recited this crazy prayer that I had recited for so many years. I started it and it had changed, just like that, the first person I blessed was Miles, didn’t think about it, just came out. I realized then how different things would be from that day forward.
Over the years, I’ve written about Miles, his laughs, his fears, his sayings. Here are a few.
