Post by Deleted on May 8, 2012 5:10:36 GMT -5
Dark seemed to have hit a winning streak. He had started the year as a grade five and now, six wins later, he was on the verge of breaking into grade two. At this rate, he would reach grade one by the end of the year and start his four year old season off as one of the top racehorses. There was definitely hope, anyway. Who cared if Flashy Wings and Executioners Apprentice had made it their first? To make it as a three year old at all would set them on a good course for the rest of their career and it was most definitely not something they could not achieve if they put their minds to it.
Their win in the Handsome Mile had put a smile on Jacob Donovan's face. Actually, it was more like a grin. The usually shy jockey had got a real thrill when he had nosed past Sunset Crusade at the post in the major race and taken his colt to victory. Sunset Crusade was a horse who was good on the track. Perhaps even too good. But Dark had not shown fear. In fact, the pair had squared up and managed to pull off an amazing victory. The kind of race which thrilled, the field tough, the win meant an awful lot.
Now, they were only one win away from Grade Two. One win, and that was nothing really. Four wins from Grade One. A thrilling and yet scary thought. Jacob knew him and the colt had a long way to go, but he also knew that they had what it took to make it. It would take work, but they were getting so close now. Excitement tingled at the back of his neck as he walked down to the track for a scheduled workout. Their next race could be their last at Grade Three. The August Dirt Stakes.
So far, their were eight horses registered for the race, and there was still time for more to be added. However, so far it was not a very worrying field. TDI Live This Lie, Gold Storm, Native Gold, Limited Bluez, The Goodness and Afterglow. Horses they had faced before, horses they had beaten before. Afterglow was probably one of the biggest threats, and she was from their own stable anyway. If they could get a one-two in this race it would be amazing.
Gating was a simple thing. The colt strode, calm and confident, into the box. His head held high, his auds pressed forwards. Focus shone in his eyes, his tassel flicking behind him. He knew the track, and he knew how to handle it. With no competition this work would ensure that he was ready for the race, and if he was made ready the chances were he would perform well. Even if he did not win, everything would be good if they got a top three placing. After all, those were the results that mattered.
As soon as the gates were open the colt broke, clean and effective. It was not a crazed start, like that of a front runner, but more held back. In a race, the slower start enabled the colt to take a position in the center of the field, which was where he would stay for the majority of the race. He handled well, he dealt with being crowded with ease. His mind was level, and he just enjoyed the feeling of the dirt beneath his hooves and the wind in his mane. As he moved forwards, he remained calm. He was not excitable, just thoughtful.
Today, they were running over six furlongs. Not a full race for the colt, but long enough to allow him to stretch out and get his mind in gear. As he moved forwards, the sound of his hooves greeted Jacob's ears. The jockey set his jaw, looked forwards, as the colt continued. Powered by strong limbs, muscles churning as he continued further up the track. A superstar in the making, and with a truly sharp mind. Jacob was counting furlongs, occasionally urging the colt forwards, but at this stage their was little work to do.
They continued forwards and Jacob started to urge the colt more, preparing for the stretch when things would become a true competition. The colt picked up, responding well to commands, and started to pull wide from the rail - a habit he had picked up from racing, when it was easier to come around the field wide that fight through them. His eyes flashed, he moved forwards at an increasing pace, and he was more than ready when they reached the two furlong mark.
The crop clapped against Dark's rump twice, and the colt surged forwards. Powerful limbs moved quickly beneath them as they surged forwards, their speed carrying them toward the post. Stride by stride, the colt fought with an imaginary rival. Racing hard, inching forwards. The passed the post and Jacob let out a long breath. They were ready.
Their win in the Handsome Mile had put a smile on Jacob Donovan's face. Actually, it was more like a grin. The usually shy jockey had got a real thrill when he had nosed past Sunset Crusade at the post in the major race and taken his colt to victory. Sunset Crusade was a horse who was good on the track. Perhaps even too good. But Dark had not shown fear. In fact, the pair had squared up and managed to pull off an amazing victory. The kind of race which thrilled, the field tough, the win meant an awful lot.
Now, they were only one win away from Grade Two. One win, and that was nothing really. Four wins from Grade One. A thrilling and yet scary thought. Jacob knew him and the colt had a long way to go, but he also knew that they had what it took to make it. It would take work, but they were getting so close now. Excitement tingled at the back of his neck as he walked down to the track for a scheduled workout. Their next race could be their last at Grade Three. The August Dirt Stakes.
So far, their were eight horses registered for the race, and there was still time for more to be added. However, so far it was not a very worrying field. TDI Live This Lie, Gold Storm, Native Gold, Limited Bluez, The Goodness and Afterglow. Horses they had faced before, horses they had beaten before. Afterglow was probably one of the biggest threats, and she was from their own stable anyway. If they could get a one-two in this race it would be amazing.
Gating was a simple thing. The colt strode, calm and confident, into the box. His head held high, his auds pressed forwards. Focus shone in his eyes, his tassel flicking behind him. He knew the track, and he knew how to handle it. With no competition this work would ensure that he was ready for the race, and if he was made ready the chances were he would perform well. Even if he did not win, everything would be good if they got a top three placing. After all, those were the results that mattered.
As soon as the gates were open the colt broke, clean and effective. It was not a crazed start, like that of a front runner, but more held back. In a race, the slower start enabled the colt to take a position in the center of the field, which was where he would stay for the majority of the race. He handled well, he dealt with being crowded with ease. His mind was level, and he just enjoyed the feeling of the dirt beneath his hooves and the wind in his mane. As he moved forwards, he remained calm. He was not excitable, just thoughtful.
Today, they were running over six furlongs. Not a full race for the colt, but long enough to allow him to stretch out and get his mind in gear. As he moved forwards, the sound of his hooves greeted Jacob's ears. The jockey set his jaw, looked forwards, as the colt continued. Powered by strong limbs, muscles churning as he continued further up the track. A superstar in the making, and with a truly sharp mind. Jacob was counting furlongs, occasionally urging the colt forwards, but at this stage their was little work to do.
They continued forwards and Jacob started to urge the colt more, preparing for the stretch when things would become a true competition. The colt picked up, responding well to commands, and started to pull wide from the rail - a habit he had picked up from racing, when it was easier to come around the field wide that fight through them. His eyes flashed, he moved forwards at an increasing pace, and he was more than ready when they reached the two furlong mark.
The crop clapped against Dark's rump twice, and the colt surged forwards. Powerful limbs moved quickly beneath them as they surged forwards, their speed carrying them toward the post. Stride by stride, the colt fought with an imaginary rival. Racing hard, inching forwards. The passed the post and Jacob let out a long breath. They were ready.