Back when I worked at the Cecil Whig, then perhaps the world’s smallest daily newspaper, the bosses would periodically bring in guest speakers to help us learn how to do our jobs better and/or more efficiently.
Bill Reightler stood along the low wall behind the seats in the Timonium sales pavilion and bid $100,000 to buy a dark bay Not For Love filly with three lifetime wins, two in stakes, and some pedigree. Also the filly’s consignor, Reightler was a little sheepish when it came to a post-purchase interview.
“Tough going in the middle . . . it’s either chicken or feathers . . . all soup and no crackers . . . the horses at the top always sell, it’s the ones in the middle that are a struggle . . . the middle market is important to people . . . the middle needs to be better . . . I don’t know what we’re going to do about the middle . . .”
How did you get into racing? I love asking people that question. Sometimes it’s pretty obvious. The Pons brothers got into racing because of their family. Same with the Bonifaces, Merrymans, Houghtons and so on.
Good horses, horsemen and horsewomen come from anywhere. Never was that more evident than this summer at Saratoga Race Course.
Dear steeplechase owners and trainers, you’ve been doing it wrong. Hit the rewind button. Start over. Go back to the proverbial drawing board.
Maybe the horses have this covered. Maybe, if we left it to them, they’d make the right decisions and overcome all of our failures for the good of the game.
No single horse ran in the My Lady’s Manor, the Grand National and the Maryland Hunt Cup timber stakes this spring. It used to be a thing. The old-timers say, “Back in the day, horses were tougher, men were stronger, fences were higher and everybody ran in the Manor, the Grand National and the Hunt Cup.”
