Post by S u N f r O s t ~ on Jun 28, 2012 10:42:27 GMT -5
TDI LIVE THIS LIE AND AMBER BLACK
BREEDERS CUP DIRT MILE WORKOUT
If racing was a game of chess, Falsehood had started out as a pawn, as all chest pieces had. He had remained a pawn for the majority of his racing career, getting a win here and there, but never really attracting the public eye. As a three year old he had just avoided the publicity of a Triple Crown horse by placing third and a fifth in the legs of the acclaimed series. He had then placed second in the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile. That had been the milestone that had helped his ascendancy. He had become not a pawn but a knight. The knight was one of the trickiest pieces in chess; it could come out of nowhere with a sudden win. That was what Falsehood had been like this season. He usually placed out of the radar and even out of the top three a lot, but he had the same capability to surprise as the knight did.
Amber's hopes for this stallion included the Breeders Cup Classic next year to wind off his final season of racing at five. But first, she wanted him to win the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile, the race they had narrowly missed winning last year. Then he would hold the title of a Breeders Cup winner, and the eyes of the crowd would be attracted to this gray stallion. He would no longer be a knight. Perhaps he would be a rook or a bishop. But never again would he be a pawn. And perhaps one day, he would be as powerful as the queen, or as quietly powerful but vulnerable as the king. Only time would tell, and lots of work too.
Falsehood was bred for the racetrack, and he showed that racing was in his blood. He was intelligent, analytic, passionate about his running....he was the very definition of a thoroughbred. He loved to run and was usually a front runner, preferring to take the lead and take his chances and run with it. He liked to have open ground, with no horses ahead of him, in front of his hooves. While he did hate being passed by other horses, he did know how to maintain a cool head if he was overly challenged for the lead. He wouldn't be reckless in his racing, as he had learned that it was no fun to be tired at the end of the race while the rest of your competition soared around you and left you in the dust. He hated that feeling. He had a touch of arrogance that came from racing well or racing not so well. He was as proud of his own small accomplishments as Amber was and didn't take kindly to being lorded over.
Dark Charmer from Silver Stride Stables was their most fierce adversary. The three year old colt had won the Handsome Mile, which was obviously a mile long, and that gave him the best credentials for this race. However, Amber also had to worry about Biohazard from Close Racing, who would be going for the front just like them. He appeared to be a bit high spirited, meaning he could overly challenge Falsehood. Amber made the plan to let him have the lead if he so desired it. Strictly Royal from Kacey Hill Racing was unfortunately another front runner. The colt was a grade four whom they had sold. Biohazard was also only a grade four. Theoretically, Falsehood would have the advantage of experience and grade when it came to those colts, so he should be able to outfight them. It seemed to Amber that Roy possessed a similar no-sacrifice front runner strategy, like Falsehood's. So the plan would be thus; let Biohazard and Roy have the lead if they so desired it and run just off of their flanks and on their inside, sticking a nose out to make sure whoever was the inside up ahead didn't close up their crawl space.
They had a chance here. A real chance. They could checkmate their competitors without them even realizing what was going on.
Amber grinned and swung herself into Falsehood's saddle. They could just let go of those dreams of glory if they weren't going to work for them. She clucked to Falsehood and off they went, trotting a sprightly trot full of quiet energy. Falsehood was obedient on the track. He realized he wasn't racing, only running, and that Amber would make sure he got a good run in. He trusted his rider enough for that, after years of partnership. They were soon cantering, swinging down the track with a long, floaty stride that was effortlessly executed by the gray stallion. It was a wonderful feeling, and Amber looked forward to the gallop. She didn't want to simulate the race as she had with her previous mount - she just wanted to let Falsehood run.
Entering the gallop was always a bit jolting. The sudden acceleration always threw the jockey's weight back in the saddle. The trick was to go with it instead of resisting it. Using that method, you regained control a lot faster. So that was what Amber did as Falsehood accelerated. The brief moment of weakness was more than made up for in a sudden grabbing of complete control. She controlled this horse's gallop and all of the power than came with, and Falsehood was all right with lending her that control for now. She felt the power that she now had as she held the stallion in. They were going easy, yet it felt so powerful and so very fast that it didn't seem easy. Rating the horse was a tough trick to learn, but it had to be learned eventually. Amber had long since mastered it, and she had pounded the lesson through countless rides into her two jockeys as well.
They galloped, and the blurry world around her began to take definition. The dirt track was a brown smear on a green planet, designed for them to pound with hooves of fire. Falsehood's gaze was quietly passionate, and every stride of his begged to have three more. It did not take long for them to finish their quiet workout and slow down to a canter, carefully watched by the press who always watched when a horse was galloping. Falsehood tossed his head once in defiance before trotting. His nostrils were flared as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, and his eyes were bright. Amber looked out at the dirt track and smiled, riding him more to the outside so any other working horses could pass them.
Checkmate.
