Inexplicable

[Kenren]

Santana's Legend & Vivien Charron for the Golden Slipper Stakes

Never in their wildest dreams had anyone expected Santana's Legend to have the level of success she was experiencing in her juvenile year. Her pedigree hadn't suggested it - her sire had won but two races in his career, and finished in the money only four times in seventeen starts. Her dam was a bit better in comparison, but even she never rose above grade four status. The filly's conformation was good, but not the most eye-catching. Neither was her movement. Her personality of quirky pleasantness held none of the aggressive tenacity so common in dominant individuals.

However, defying all odds, Santana's Legend had asserted herself as a front runner in the juvenile turf division. Her strength of schedule was hard to top, as she'd raced in many of the biggest fields of the year and often come out unscathed and strongly contesting. She might be forgettable in the post parade, but she definitely made her presence known during the race and down the stretch. It was her completely unexpected and dominant record that had Cole nominating the filly for the Golden Slipper, and here they were at her last work before the big race. She'd been knocking heads with the same competitors all year that would be in this race, and if she could hold her own then and even come out on top a fair number of times, then why shouldn't he give her a shot?

The filly was feeling fresh in the cool morning air, and she was having small outbursts of excitement the whole way out to the track. Minske was alongside on Panther, who stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with the filly but still managed to make her look small. Since she was being rather bold and unpredictable that morning, she went through her warm-up while held by the assistant trainer, the massive track pony not seeming to mind the extra work. "How has she been feeling during races?" Minske asked the jockey, and Vivien got a thoughtful look. "She's surprisingly good, actually. I think she was caught a little off guard with the shorter distance in the last race, but most of her races have been right down to the wire and she doesn't back off." He paused as the filly gave a string of bucks, getting her settled before they moved into a canter. "If she hated that type of competition she'd slack off, but she hasn't at all. She's still driving through all of those duels, so I think this is going to be a good test for her." Minske nodded, satisfied with the description. Ana had been thwarted a number of times by the horses in the Golden Slipper field, often by small margins, but Vivien's confidence told Minske that Ana was quite capable of stealing the spotlight.

Finally they moved into a gallop, and after a few controlled strides from the filly, Minske let her loose from the lead and allowed Panther to drop back. Ana was raring and ready to go, right on the bit and eager for more - a little uncharacteristic from her, but the nice cool weather had everyone in high spirits. When they reached the half mile pole, he loosened up his grip but kept her at a pace that wouldn't over-exert her - however, despite this, he got the distinct impression that he was flying. Ana didn't care if she was the prettiest mover. She didn't care if her strides seemed to flat to really do anything over the turf. All she knew is that her rider wanted her to run, and she would do it for him gladly. They swept easily around the turn and were blowing past the wire, and Minske, in no time at all. Vivien galloped her out, knowing that conditioning at this stage was key when she was game for it, and eventually pulled her up. The filly steamed in the cool air, but her eyes were as bright as they had been before the run. She dropped her head with a sigh when Vivien loosened the reins, chewing the bit thoughtfully and flicking one ear back to her rider. Even now she was attuned to his every wish, and he felt momentarily overwhelmed by her selfless nature. Scratching her neck, he urged her off of the track. There was no doubt in his mind, or any watching, that the filly was about to bring some heat to the prestigious two-year-old races.