Post by Deleted on May 9, 2012 6:12:22 GMT -5
It hadn't been a bad year for them so far, despite their disappointment in June. In fact, they had come in the top three in over half of their races, which meant that they stood a chance of improving. With two wins to her name so far this year, Amira was two wins away from grade three and even though it had taken her a while she seemed to have started to come into her own. There was always a chance that she could make it to a good grade by the end of the year, and with her current performance the staff had been considering putting her through another year before retiring her. But that required her to continue performing well, and producing good results.
The bay filly had some good blood. She was the daughter of Hail To Prince, a strong stallion, and out of Perfection who was a grade one mare. Her parents had both been successful, and yet she was struggling. But Jacob was determined to help her improve, to help her with her continued improvements. She was a good, strong mare and she definitely had it in her. She had started the year as a grade five, now she was a grade four and with work she would continue to climb to even greater heights. By the time she was retired, Jacob hoped to have Amira at Grade Three, if not Grade Two.
Their next race was the August Turf Stakes which ran over eight furlongs. A distance they could manage with relative ease, as it was in the middle of the filly's preferred distance range. The mile race would see them against the likes of Winged Romeo, Axis Mundae, Silver Birch, Calle Ocho, Strike A Post and Ignacia. Not the toughest field in the world, but not exactly an easy one for Amira. The mare was not exactly the most talented thoroughbred out their, and this field was one at about their level. It would make for an interesting race, at least, even if the most talented horses were not running.
The field consisted of only Preceders and Closers, meaning that not everyone would be able to run where they desired. Jacob would probably take the initiative and push Amira into a front runners position. There, she would be able to set the pace and while running at a mid-high pace they would be able to form a lead. With a lead, Amira's lacking the ability to have a huge burst of speed would not cause a problem. In fact, she would even be able to make the most of her situation. But such a field would make for a very strange race indeed.
Gating was simple enough, Amira was now four years old and had gotten over her nervous jitters about the starting gate. She understood now, in her third year of racing, that it was not something to fear. Her dark eyes glinted, and Jacob cast his eyes up the turf track. The sun was deadly bright, too bright. It burnt his eyes and he was forced to look away. At least it wasn't rain. He hated rain.
The gates opened and Jacob pushed the filly onto the four furlong stretch. Her legs moved confidently beneath her as she broke well and he pushed her just a little at the start, something he would need to do if his odd racing tactic was to work. Pushing Amira ahead of the group of horses he had pictured in his head he kept himself calm, feeling the movement of the mare beneath him. Stride after confident stride, the wind pulling through her mane and the sun glaring with cruel rays of bright light. Come raceday the sun would not be so bad, for it was currently early morning and the race did not run until a little later.
It was clear that Amira was in quite good form. Her powerful movements carried her forwards and she was handling the turf with ease. Jacob pushed her slightly, but not much, as he waited for the right time to come. One furlong remaining. He cracked the crop and drove her hard, urging her onwards toward the post. She fought as he drove, her speed not increasing and yet not decreasing. A workout half the distance of the race, and the filly had handled it with relative ease. Jacob hoped that it would be enough to put her into the top three.
The bay filly had some good blood. She was the daughter of Hail To Prince, a strong stallion, and out of Perfection who was a grade one mare. Her parents had both been successful, and yet she was struggling. But Jacob was determined to help her improve, to help her with her continued improvements. She was a good, strong mare and she definitely had it in her. She had started the year as a grade five, now she was a grade four and with work she would continue to climb to even greater heights. By the time she was retired, Jacob hoped to have Amira at Grade Three, if not Grade Two.
Their next race was the August Turf Stakes which ran over eight furlongs. A distance they could manage with relative ease, as it was in the middle of the filly's preferred distance range. The mile race would see them against the likes of Winged Romeo, Axis Mundae, Silver Birch, Calle Ocho, Strike A Post and Ignacia. Not the toughest field in the world, but not exactly an easy one for Amira. The mare was not exactly the most talented thoroughbred out their, and this field was one at about their level. It would make for an interesting race, at least, even if the most talented horses were not running.
The field consisted of only Preceders and Closers, meaning that not everyone would be able to run where they desired. Jacob would probably take the initiative and push Amira into a front runners position. There, she would be able to set the pace and while running at a mid-high pace they would be able to form a lead. With a lead, Amira's lacking the ability to have a huge burst of speed would not cause a problem. In fact, she would even be able to make the most of her situation. But such a field would make for a very strange race indeed.
Gating was simple enough, Amira was now four years old and had gotten over her nervous jitters about the starting gate. She understood now, in her third year of racing, that it was not something to fear. Her dark eyes glinted, and Jacob cast his eyes up the turf track. The sun was deadly bright, too bright. It burnt his eyes and he was forced to look away. At least it wasn't rain. He hated rain.
The gates opened and Jacob pushed the filly onto the four furlong stretch. Her legs moved confidently beneath her as she broke well and he pushed her just a little at the start, something he would need to do if his odd racing tactic was to work. Pushing Amira ahead of the group of horses he had pictured in his head he kept himself calm, feeling the movement of the mare beneath him. Stride after confident stride, the wind pulling through her mane and the sun glaring with cruel rays of bright light. Come raceday the sun would not be so bad, for it was currently early morning and the race did not run until a little later.
It was clear that Amira was in quite good form. Her powerful movements carried her forwards and she was handling the turf with ease. Jacob pushed her slightly, but not much, as he waited for the right time to come. One furlong remaining. He cracked the crop and drove her hard, urging her onwards toward the post. She fought as he drove, her speed not increasing and yet not decreasing. A workout half the distance of the race, and the filly had handled it with relative ease. Jacob hoped that it would be enough to put her into the top three.