Post by Dante on Jun 17, 2012 23:33:42 GMT -5
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FORD MODEL T
workout with
MOSES LANCASTER
for the
IASIS STAKES
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The colt was a fireball, albeit not a stunning fireball, but a fireball all the same. The flaxen chestnut - also known as a sorrel - pranced with his jockey upon him - also known as a Moses - was equally excited. They hadn't had much time to take him out to the track, due to the blinding pace racemeets went at this year, but he'd done well when worked. So they were going to work him.
"Give it your best, Mosie." Connor grumbled at the jockey. Connor and Moses were not on good terms as of late.
"I will, thanks." Moses growled back. Six furlongs. Turf. Easy stuff for the spitfire sprinter, who Moses knew could still make it big. One look at White Chocolate's successes told him that. There was still plenty in it for this colt. It was just a matter of getitng it, and it was something that Ford could do with ease. He had won a race despite being the longshot. He'd come out at front like he did, and stayed there. They could - and would - do it again.
Getting into the gate was doubtlessly the hardest part. Ford snorted and stamped and backed up. The colt hated being loaded, and it was only with Connor's help and some extra usage of the stick that Ford went in. Moses could feel the colt tensing up under him. Tensing and ready to get away from the gate as quickly as possible. Moses had to say, out of any horse he watched, Ford broke the fastest out of any of them, and certainly out of PHS. It was as though there was an engine in there, one that could go zero to a zillion in a heartbeat. It was just a matter of sustaining it, and that was the hardest part for the colt; sustaining the energy he had en masse. However, this was a shorter sprint and Moses wasn't too terribly worried about it.
He adjusted his goggled, gritted his teeth, and the gate sprang open. Following the gate so quickly you'd think he might hit it, Ford Model T bounded after it, and they were off, tearing up the turf. Moses couldn't help but smile at the sheer energy of the colt. And now, later in the year? It was being matched by a bigger, stronger frame and power to be reckoned with. Ford might not look a stellar racer, but Moses was sure that this was one of the ones who bloomed late, but bloomed well. Plus, with what seemed to be only a field of one other horse, Ford would have plenty of time to strategize, even in such a short race. Moses was very confident about this, even if they didn't win. The race was going to be worth something to the duo, even if it wasn't visible right away.
The duo thundered down the track, and Moses could feel Ford pulling on the reins. He pulled right on back. Not enough to slow the horse much but enough to keep him steady, slowing him around the turn just enough to keep his balance as well. Moses was a mid-weight, mid-height jockey, and unlike Erin, who's height allowed her to 'swing' the horse around turns, Moses would simply end up knocking Ford over or falling off altogether! That would spell disqualification, and probably a full-time job for the Gallop, as Mr. Muse would likely fire him for such a gaffe.
The "race" itself was short and sweet. The frontrunner managed to hold his stamina fairly well, and Moses crossed the six furlong line while on his mount - always a good sign. Ford was sweating and huffing and puffing, but Moses was proud. They'd managed to hold the corner and, more importantly, stay right up against the rail with no major problems. Flighty horses sometimes hated the rail so close. Ford, however, stayed right up next to it, and in a two-horse race, when no boxing was really possible, staying inside was an advantage that they would need.
"How'd we do?" Moses asked, as Conor came slouching on up to them.
"Decent." Was the trainer's only reply. "It's a two horse race, I don't see the big deal."
"And that," Moses said with ice in his voice, "Is why Skylark is head trainer and not you." Moses wheeled Ford around, and without another word, headed for the stableyeard. They'd show Connor. They'd show them all. Ford Model T might not be a car, Moses reflected, but he had horsepower.
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 797
workout surface| Turf
distance| 6 furlongs
horse| Ford Model T
jockey| Moses Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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