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Post by Sam on Jul 22, 2009 2:04:43 GMT -5
Horse No Snow Angel
Jockey Max Lettington
Purpose Normal exercise and prep for Breeder's Cup (Breeder's Cup Juvenile to be exact)
I stood quaking in the stirrups. A shaky breathe escaped me. The biggest race of my life was coming up. The Breeder's Cup. The stress and pressure weighed heavily on my shoulders. It would be my first running in the grand race. My big sister, Sam, said to take it easy. If Jelly didn't win this year then I had a chance again next year. It wasn't like this was his one and only shot or anything.
But still. The pressure was eminence. You ok, there? I heard a voice call, dragging me away from my worried thoughts. My sister looked at me with a half amused and half concerned look. I nodded numbly. She rolled her eyes and smiled at me. You're worried, I know. But like I said, it's ok if he doesn't win. I'm not going to go beating you over the head or teasing you about it or anything, she tried to reasure me, but they barely helped my thoughts.
This was to be me and Jelly's first race together. I knew our competition. I knew the track. I knew the distance. I knew the surface. I knew everything there was to know about this race but I still felt as if there was something I didn't know. Something was missing from this puzzle.
I ran it over in my head. The competition was stiff. All colts, not one filly in the bunch. Jelly has run against all colts before and come out pretty well. But these are just any old colts. These are the colts that can make or break Jelly's career. These are the colts that would like nothing more then to see me choke.
I gulped before I felt a sharp sting in my arm. Ow! I yelped, looking down to see my sister glaring up at me. Crap. She was probably talking just now.
Will you pay attention? she snapped. I just blinked in response, showing my attention now layed on her. Look, just relax and have fun, ok? If you stress about this you'll have more then just one bruise on your arm, she warned, though I wasn't sure if that threat was empty or not. She muttered something along the lines of 'Sandra must be rubbing off on me.' Sandra was a new jockey here to work with some of the new stock. She was something to watch out for.
Run eight and a half furlongs, she said pointing out between the makers. Run like your in the race. Run the exact way you want to run for the race, she instructed. I just nodded and gathered the forgotten reins. Sam's eyes skimmed over the white colt. You're lucky you got Jelly, she said with a bright smile. Her eyes came up and caught mine. He'll take care of ya'.
I know, I responded as we set off at a trot. I posted to the familiar wiggly beat. Despite this race being me and Jelly's first race together, I was more then familiar with the white colt. I'm his main rider, often riding him daily. He was calmer then most and knew his job. He was quite mature for his age, as I was, I suppose.
After several moments of trotting along I asked for the canter. We cantered around the far corner, being careful not to let him take off early.
Soon the nine furlong marker passed. I set where the middle would be and waited. As soon as I passed the mental maker, I eased into position, hands in his short, white mane. Jelly hesitated for a moment, before snapping into his gallop. He bolted for a few strides before settling into his normal pace, his small wiggle always joining it.
Down the back stretch we flew. Nothing interesting. Nothing too interesting ever happens on the back stretch, it all happened after the turn towards home. That's where all the action and fun is.
All the worries were long gone as we came around the turn. Practiced perfect, we went around the corner smoothly, never missing a beat. Never getting too hyped up like most young two year olds. The colt would simply grow slightly faster as he went around.
The corner started to open up to the stretch and I let the colt loose. The whip in my hand flashed, to show that I had it. Jelly surged forwards now, breathing hard and digging deep into the dirt to make sure he got the traction he desired. His legs stretched and buckled under him, gathering before quickly departing constantly. His wiggle was gone as if he was straightening out and concentrating.
As the wire flew over us, I knew what question that needed to be answered.
Who would we beat?
Word Count 800
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