Justify: 111 Days to Triple Crown Glory
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Justify: 111 Days to Triple Crown Glory
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781629377018 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Triumph Books |
| Publication date: | 04/30/2019 |
| Edition description: | None |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Sales rank: | 499,046 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.70(w) x 8.60(h) x 1.20(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
On History's Doorstep
The grandstand at Belmont Park runs a quarter-mile long, rebuilt in the 1960s to accommodate tens of thousands who regularly turned out on Saturday afternoons to see superstar racehorses like Kelso, Dr. Fager, Buckpasser, and Damascus ply their trade of running freely, as long and as fast as their legs could carry them.
When the grandstand filled on June 9, 2018, however, it was far more an exception than a regular occurrence. Today, live attendance at the racetrack is no longer necessary, or even preferred. Television and mobile devices beam the action to fans sitting comfortably on living room sofas; and players can gamble from the beach, mountains, or anywhere else they'd like to spend their weekends, by simply tapping on their phones.
But on this spring day 90,000-plus cram the grand old lady on the New York City/Long Island border because of the promise of a Triple Crown champion. Back behind the grandstand in the saddling paddock, circling under a 200-yearold Japanese white pine tree that was once part of the estate of noted New York attorney William DeForest Manice, is a 1,260-pound Thoroughbred named Justify whose copper coat is defined by inlets of rippling muscles off his shoulders and hindquarters. He has just been fitted with a tiny saddle cinched around his robust girth, and even his nine opponents seem to keep a wary eye on this specimen as he parades among them, waiting for the signal to dispense with these preliminaries and finally get to work.
It is 6:30 of a warm late afternoon, and the general admission masses have moved from the backyard picnic area and the long betting lines to the racetrack apron, craning their necks to capture the 100-foot-wide expanse of rich sandy dirt that stretches before them. Some are alcohol-powered, here for a happening and a good time. Others are horse-crazy young girls of all ages now, and some are young or middle-age men whose fathers and grandfathers brought them here as kids, where they bonded and were instilled with a fascination in the way the majestic Thoroughbred fulfills his nature to run.
Above them, in the box seats, are the industry's current stakeholders, the folks who own the farms where mares graze in vast green fields and foals are conceived and raised, and where the choice few accomplished racehorses and most-productive studs go about the business of trying to replicate themselves. Here are the breeders who plan the matings; the owners who give over hundreds of thousands for a yearling on the pure gamble that he might be able to run, fast and sound, a year or two down the road. The ones with skin in the impending battle mix nervously among the dealmakers and the agents and the racetrack executives from around the world.
From the next level up, in the swell luxury of air-conditioned dining rooms, watch the scions of the game, their names recognizable going back half a century and more, whose great-grandparents started stables and bred their carefully cultivated mare families to the finest sires of the day, keeping their stock to race before the era of the commercial market. Their horses may not make it to the winner's circle with the regularity of days gone, but their influence hasn't waned, nor their ability to occupy the best perches.
On any day but this one, the good clubhouse seats on Belmont's third floor can be had by anyone giving over a $5 bill to upgrade from the grandstand. On a normal afternoon fans lounge about, their Racing Forms and tout sheets spread around on empty surrounding chairs, their feet up, lazily taking in the races that go off every 30 minutes. Most of those minutes are spent grousing to friends or geographically available strangers about jockey, horse, or trainer malfeasance that cost them their wagers on the previous race. Today, though, those chairs cost 500 bucks and are filled by well-heeled fans from across the country, come to the big city for a chance to witness history. Their disappointments are far more muted than those of the regular clientele, and there are significant others accompanying, many of whom have already this week shopped the fine stores of Manhattan, the unofficial trade-off for their partners' day at the races.
Perched on an overhang above all is the press box, a narrow piece of antiquity reached after navigating a long, steamy hallway. It was once the home of fedoras and cigarette smoke and hard-boiled wise guys banging out a living on typewriter keys and ribbon-stained sheets of white paper. Figuring their beat provided them good information, this gang nevertheless gave back a hefty percentage of their wages at the betting window. Today, laptops no bigger than a Manila folder sit on the long tables and the key-tapping is far quieter. What little smoking there is takes place up a flight of stairs out on the roof, and the graying leftovers from the last generation are outnumbered now by young women who bring a new and different energy of fandom to the enterprise of Turf writing. The more passionate have filtered down to ground level to bear witness to the unfolding main event, hanging on the rail and taking cell phone photos.
It is 15 minutes to post time, and great waves of noise ebb and flow from the ground-floor track apron to the levels above. Electricity shoots through the crowd, the sort felt before the opening bell of a top heavyweight championship fight or as the home team takes the field for Game 7 of the World Series. The anticipation, the excitement of the unknown, the chance that history will be forever written and witnessed in the minutes to come, elicits a buzz that cuts clear up through the rafters, as the greatest city in the world hosts yet another signature event.
This business of the Triple Crown carries extra gravity because its potential occurrence is irregular. Barring labor unrest or owner lockouts, the top team sports hold their championship games annually. Horse racing's ultimate day, however, is predicated on one horse winning the first two legs of the classics, the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes, before he can run for the Triple Crown in the Belmont Stakes. Before the great Secretariat came along in 1973, 25 years had elapsed since the Triple Crown was captured by Citation in 1948. And since Affirmed turned the triple in 1978 by fending off Alydar in the final strides of their mile-and-a-half battle in the Belmont, fully 37 years passed — including 13 failures by Derby/Preakness winners to complete the triple here at Belmont — before American Pharoah set off a full-blown hullabaloo by winning the Triple Crown in 2015.
Supply and demand. On average, the Triple Crown has been won once per decade over the past century. It is the difference between watching an annual Fourth of July fireworks show and a once-a-decade meteor shower. Anticipation is heightened; nerves shoot through the assembled; no one wants to sit down.
The public-address system crackles with an announcement: "The New York Racing Association is proud to present ..." The rest of the words are obscured both by outdated speakers and by a crease of noise that bounces off the walls of the giant grandstand. Strains of Frank Sinatra bellowing about "wanting to be a part of it" play over the faulty sound system, and all eyes turn to the action down near the tunnel that connects the saddling paddock to the racing surface. An outrider in black helmet and red vest and his mount slowly make their way toward the racetrack. Immediately behind them is the gleaming chestnut beauty seeking to make history today.
Having drawn the number 1 post in this field of 10 horses, Justify in every way leads the procession out onto the racetrack. His presence, with the Hall of Fame rider Mike Smith aboard him wearing the red silks with yellow stars of the China Horse Club (one of four ownership entities with a piece of the undefeated colt), brings a riptide roar from the assembled, which catches a first glimpse of him in staggered time depending on their vantage point. A historically inexperienced horse to be in this position, Justify, as he has all spring, remains aloof from the cacophony raining down upon him. He is a magnificent specimen of a Thoroughbred — his long body built for speed, a lengthy stride, power, and stamina; his ears straight up taking in the entirety of the scene; a brilliant white blaze narrowing between his eyes before broadening back up higher on his forehead. In any grouping of horses, he is a standout. Accompanied by a pony, he turns left up the racetrack toward the head of the stretch to begin the post parade, the anticipation of which produces another full-throated shower of cheers.
For interpreters of body language, Justify is providing ample hints that this, like his previous five races, will be his day. Through the tests of the Derby and the Preakness, he has maintained his weight and increased his fitness. Such rigors, the first two races occurring just two weeks apart, have ruined many top horses who fail to repeat their Derby triumph. They are derailed by the energy expended or the travel from their home bases or their failure to acclimate, new situations falling outside their comfort level. These Thoroughbreds are hot-blooded, and they can go wrong at the smallest change in their routine. Anything out of place can cause them to fret and worry.
In addition to his massive stride and perfect conformation, Justify has the mental chops of a wise old warrior. Although his first foray into battle at the racetrack came just 111 days ago, he has handled a radically condensed schedule without turning a hair. After running through boggy, sloppy racing surfaces in the Derby and Preakness, perhaps he is thinking, as he walks over the sandy surface at Belmont Park, that he is finally getting to run on a dry track today, eliminating yet another variable in his pursuit of immortality.
"Here is the field for the Belmont Stakes. Number 1, Justify ..." All else over the public-address is drowned out as the crowd whips itself into a frenzy at the mention of his name. The connections of his opponents are less impressed. Justify's margin of victory at the Preakness was decreasing with each mud-filled stride through the fog and muck. Surely his lack of a foundation from not having raced as a 2-year-old was catching up to him, according to those not yet convinced. And with the marathon 11/2-mile Belmont lurking, that shortage of seasoning was bound to run him straight into a brick wall in New York, as it had so many others before him.
Only four had challenged Secretariat and Affirmed in the Belmont Stakes, while seven chose to do battle with Seattle Slew as he tried for the 1977 Triple Crown. But horsemen are lining up to take a crack at Justify as if the racing office was giving away free Caribbean vacations to all who entered. Justify, seeking to become just the second horse to win the Triple Crown while undefeated, is being looked upon as a freak show more than as a finished production. The gamblers are believers, betting him down to below evenmoney odds as the favorite. But the other owners and trainers have visions of sugar plums and that diminishing winning margin of the Preakness dancing in their heads, and each wants to go down in history as the spoiler, the defiler of Justify's perfect record.
As the starting gate is moved into position in front of the grandstand and just before the finish line — a mile and a half being one circuit of the gargantuan Belmont dirt track — Smith jogs Justify up the stretch and around the huge, gradual bend of the turn onto the backstretch, warming him up for the work at hand. Horse races are puzzles, as bettors try to piece together the strategy of each jockey and horse depending on their running style. Which will flash early speed and try to go to the front, which will try to find a position in mid-pack, and which will drop back toward the rear and make their run late in the proceedings?
Justify's speed is no secret. He's run on or close to the lead in all his races, having sat second in the Kentucky Derby waiting for a suicide frontrunner to empty his tank before assuming command. In the Preakness he showed the field his tail right off jump street. Here, from the inside post position, he would want to start alertly so as not to get boxed in by horses to his outside, whose jockeys would be only too happy to seal him off down at the rail and deny him running room. Everyone knew Justify would try for the lead in the Belmont. But would anyone else be able to do anything about it?
Warm-ups complete, the 10 Belmont starters begin their walk back down the stretch. "The horses are approaching the starting gate ..." The three-week wait from the Preakness to the Belmont is finally at its conclusion, and the crowd voices its approval. The ponies who accompany the racers to keep them calm begin peeling away as assistant starters spring into action, each having a designated horse to lead into the starting gate. Justify is led first into his stall closest to the inner rail. The decibel level leaves all else a blur. The field loads quickly. Ninety-thousand patrons stand as one. At 6:50 pm, with the ringing of a bell and a loud thwack as the gates release, 10 heads shoot up the Belmont strip. Justify breaks inward for a step, and then instantly corrects course. He is in front in a matter of seconds, history beckoning a mile and a half farther down the strip.
CHAPTER 2Creating a Dream
It is a typically sticky Ohio River Valley June day, relentless heat beaming mercilessly through heavy, still, wet air. The mercury reads mid-90s and standing outside is enough to cause sweat to seep through clothes. Well past 6:00 pm, the sun is still high in the sky in Louisville, Kentucky, on the western edge of the Eastern Time Zone. It is one week to the moment after Justify's run in the Belmont Stakes, and he is back at Churchill Downs, where his Triple Crown journey started, preparing to be paraded and celebrated out on the track where he sloshed through mud six weeks earlier to win the Kentucky Derby.
There is night racing at "The Downs" on this evening, and more than 20,000 patrons have shown up, many just to catch a glimpse of racing's new hero. At Barn 33, which is used by trainer Bob Baffert when he has horses running in the Derby and other prestigious races at Churchill Downs, Justify is led from his stall to a mat just outside. He is receiving a mini-bath, a washdown before he will be walked from the barn area around the racetrack to the saddling paddock. There, he will be photographed by admirers before being led back out in front of the stands to the winner's circle to be hailed, and his connections given trophies for their Derby victory.
While accepting the cooling water across his chestnut body, Justify receives a visit from a familiar companion. Tanya Gunther, a lithe, sandy-haired woman, moves confidently to him and cradles his head in her arms. She plants a long kiss on top of his nose, lingers there a moment, and retreats back to the precious shade just inside the shedrow at the corner of the barn. Her shoulders begin to heave up and down, her head turned low. She is sobbing the joyful tears of seeing the embodiment of her wildest, most- far-fetched dream come to life in front of her wet eyes.
If he'd been born 1,000 miles to the south, perhaps John Gunther would have become a Hollywood character actor. His rugged features could well have made him a Jack Palance–type, riding horses over sagebrush-filled Western terrain either chasing villains or being one. But Gunther's involvement with horses would take a far different route up in western Canada.
His badlands came on the flats of Alberta, as did his education on self-sufficiency. Following the early death of his father, Gunther went to live on a farm owned by his aunt, who raised cattle, pigs, wheat, barley, and oats. His love affair with horses began there, with his fascination of the team that harrowed the fields. Following a family tradition, as a young man he worked the waterfront as a longshoreman, the piers conveniently located across the road from Hastings Park. Gunther spent weekends leaving behind part of his paycheck trying to unlock the puzzle of betting the horses. Amid the losses was one important gain — the hatching of a dream to one day own a Thoroughbred.
A different loss set Gunther on his primary career path. Sharing a beer-hall table near the docks with a group of stockbrokers, Gunther followed their tout and invested in a stock that landed belly up. Rather than lament his turn of fortune, Gunther decided to leave the unloading of ships to others and take the Canadian Securities Course to become a stockbroker himself. It was the move of a strong, self-made man, and today, 45 years associated with Leede Jones Gable, he is a senior partner in the firm.
Gunther early on bought a horse for a woman who would become his wife. Unknown to him, the mare was a Thoroughbred, and a friend eventually talked him into breeding her. Gunther raced her first foal, Pallascheck, who won four races for him and set him up for his life's avocation.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Justify"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Lenny Shulman.
Excerpted by permission of Triumph Books LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Foreword Steve Haskin ix
Introduction xiii
1 On History's Doorstep 3
2 Creating a Dream 13
3 To Sell or Not to Sell 21
4 From Jesus to Soros 31
5 Early Lessons at the Farm 43
6 California Dreaming 53
7 Finally, to the Races 65
8 Two-for-Two 75
9 The White-Haired Wonder 83
10 Making His Point 99
11 Derby Week 109
12 History Bathed in Roses 129
13 Bruised, Fogged In, and Still Unbeaten 155
14 The Pilot 177
15 Run-Up to the Crown 191
16 Crowning Achievement 205
17 Change of Plans 223
18 One for the Books 233
19 Back to the Beginning 245
Acknowledgments 249
About the Author 251