Post by Cavallo on Sept 4, 2012 22:17:04 GMT -5
It was like they had hit a wall. No matter where they raced or what they did, they couldn't break this funk. Both rider and horse rode the warmup with a fierce determination and a flair of frustration. They were just one win away from making the next grade, but their last outing was a disappointing third...
Michael just didn't understand what was going on. At the end of their last season...they had been, well..on fire...and now it was like fate kept dumping buckets on water on their bonfire. The embers were flickering, alive and well. They just needed something to rekindle the flame.
The flame hued colt arched his muscled boa and cantered about in good fashion, but Michael could sense the seething mood. Violently the colt played with the bit and waited for the opportunity to vent his pent up emotions.
There was no denying it Firebird was pure colt and like any man, He didn't take losing entirely gracefully, neither was Michael. To have The Wire Finish Cup Turf Mile snatched away from them by Executioner's Apprentice...again had both men in sour spirits.
They were putting the time in...something had to give and something had to spark and soon. Michael had toyed with the idea of letting Kyle ride the Oddside son, but the thought alone just felt like a betrayal. Is it me boy? Am I holding us back? What am I doing wrong? He stated the questions aloud for the colt to hear, his voice he knew would be soothing to the moody chestnut.
Well, one thing he felt comforted in was that all the horses they would be running against would be grade fours....no Executioner's Apprentice to worry about. Fire pulled at the bit and Michael decided that it was time to fully breeze the chestnut. He put his melancholy thoughts aside and turned to the task at hand.
He drew closer to the frame of his mount and fed him the line and pushed him forward. The colt moved forward like a steam roller as his pace quickened and his stride began to flash. Michael felt himself fall into place with the colt...felt his rhythm, his heart, heard the thunder of hooves, felt the spray of dirt. He felt suddenly at peace and knew that at that moment Firebird did too.
Then something peculiar began to happen....the peace began to swell, his heart began to race. The ground was flashing by and the wind was grabbing his clothes and face and whipping the colt's mane like licks of wild flames..
This was why they ran. It wasn't just for glory. It wasn't just for honor. It was simply for the thrill of the race. The chance to shine and if they won, then great, but if they didn't well...then they were only addling kindling to the spark of fire that had just been reborn.
