Horse Sense

The day may dawn clear, but Saturday's 125th Kentucky Derby will be run under a cloud--or rather, three or four clouds--that help explain the unhappy state of American horse racing.

First, as twenty unpredictable three-year-olds go to the post at Churchill Downs, the memory of Charlie Whittingham is sure to haunt the proceedings. The witty gentleman trainer who won a pair of Derbies (with Ferdinand in 1986 and Sunday Silence in 1989) died two weeks ago, at the age of 86, from leukemia. In his 62 years at the track, Whittingham won Eclipse Awards as North America's outstanding trainer in 1971, 1982 and 1989, and three of his champion runners were named Horse of the Year--Ack Ack in 1971, Ferdinand in 1987 and Sunday Silence in 1989.

Just as important, Whittingham embodied the wry understatement, attention to detail and dawn-to-dark work ethic that characterize the best of the old-line trainers. He always came armed with a quip, and on race day he often had a secret strategy up his sleeve. I remember one early morning in 1982, when Perrault, another brilliant Whittingham charge, was on the verge of becoming the year's leading money-winner. Charlie's star five-year-old was putting in a fast five-furlong work in the 6 a.m. chill at Saratoga, and it had been impossible to pick up the horse on the fog-shrouded backside. But at the head of the stretch, Perrault thundered dramatically into view under the bundled-up exercise rider, and together they streamed powerfully down the lane to the wire.

Wearing his signature checkerboard cap, Charlie clicked his stopwatch, looked at it with satisfaction and announced to a little knot of coffee-drinkers: "You didn't see much of him this morning, but you'll see a whole lotta horse on Sunday."

Alas, the racing game will see no more Charlie Whittinghams.
It's suddenly bereft of Julie Krones, too. The most successful female jockey in the history of the sport retired April 18 with 3,546 wins (including 227 stakes victories) and nearly $81 million in purses won. She competed fiercely for eighteen years and became the only woman rider to win a Triple Crown race when she booted Colonial Affair home in the 1993 Belmont Stakes. At Gulfstream and Aqueduct and the Fairgrounds in New Orleans, little girls who stood nearly as tall as the four-foot-ten-inch Julie looked up to her with shining eyes. She would sometimes scrap with fellow riders, but Krone never refused a kid an autograph.

Her farewell, at age 35, was understandably overshadowed by that of hockey legend Wayne Gretzky, which came the same day. But not even the Great One endured Julie's trials. In recent years she was badly injured in two horrific spills (one threatened paralysis, the other her very life), but she declined to retire until she had completely recovered. On April 18 at Lone Star Park, near Dallas, she rode her last three winners.

"I wanted to go at the top of my game," she told reporters. "I didn't want to limp out of here."

Billy Patin may not be able to say the same. At Oaklawn Park in Hot Springs, Arkansas, on April 10, a 30-1 maiden longshot named Valhol shocked the racing world by winning the Arkansas Derby, one of the prestigious prep races for three-year-olds leading up to this Saturday's big day at Churchill Downs. Five days later, track officials asked the Arkansas Racing Commission to investigate whether Patin, Valhol's rider, had used what is called in racetrack parlance a "machine." In this case, the investigators suspect, it was a tiny battery designed to transmit a stimulating shock to the horse. Completely illegal, of course.

At press time the verdict was not in, but slow-motion video replays of the race clearly show Patin dropping something to the ground in the runout after the finish line, and Arkansas officials have withheld Valhol's $300,000 share of the purse. Meanwhile, the horse's owners have undertaken a legal fight to get Valhol into Saturday's Kentucky Derby field: Without credit for the $300,000 win at Oaklawn, he wouldn't qualify.

And without such blots on the reputation of a sport already fighting for its life against casino gambling and a dozen forms of entertainment, every horse, rider and rumpled railbird with a two-dollar exacta ticket clutched in his hot fist would be a lot better off.

Speaking of well-off, how about General Sheik Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum? He's not only defense minister of the United Arab Emirates and the crown prince of oil-rich Dubai, but the most powerful figure in international horse racing. Sheik Mohammed and his three brothers--one of whom is the ruler of Dubai--have invested hundreds of millions of dollars in thoroughbreds, and Gondolphin Racing, Inc., the super-secretive horse farm and training facility they operate in the sun-drenched Persian Gulf, is said to be the world's finest. Once you get past the barbed wire.

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Bill Gallo
Contact: Bill Gallo

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