One Race
Call Me Mr. Vain was the winningest horse in North America in 2003 with 11 wins; he spent most of 2004 in his stall, recovering from a tendon injury. His owner/trainer called me this afternoon to let me know that Mr. Vain was running in the third at Charles Town tonight and that he was going to “run big.” I was skeptical — it’s a rare trainer who doesn’t think his horse will win every time it goes out — but a look at the third race, which was one of those messy cheap claiming affairs in which a lot of horses don’t make much sense, showed that Mr. Vain was easily one of the contenders, and so my racing companion and I ventured out to East Boston, arriving in time for the second race at Charles Town.
The clubhouse crowd was small and quiet, the grandstand sat empty and dark. We found a couple of seats and watched the second at Charles Town and a harness race at Meadowlands. The horses came out for the third race and we saw Mr. Vain in the paddock, looking lively and sound — at least, as lively and sound as any horse can look through a TV screen. We waited for the start.
I had pegged horse number three as the early speed in the race, figured the eight horse wouldn’t be too far back, and thought that as long as Mr. Vain was well-rated, he could win. If only I could have talked strategy with the jockey, because when the bell rang, Mr. Vain leapt to the front and set the pace through the first three quarters of the race. “He’s going too fast,” I muttered, watching the three horse settle behind him and the others massing on the outside, preparing to make their moves. As soon as he felt pressure going into the stretch turn, the jock took out his whip and Mr. Vain stopped. In a second he faded from first to last. “Is he injured?” was my first thought at the sight of his quick disappearance. I heard later he was not. That’s good news. What’s not is that he got such a poor ride. I feel a little like Jay Cronley, blaming the jockey, but the horse had a chance. How come his rider didn’t seem to know that?
