After all, there was no reason to think that I could actually get a horse, at least not at that point. For most of my life, in fact, horses weren’t a big deal to me. Unlike a lot of children, I did not grow up a horse fanatic. I never read the books of famous authors like Walter Farley or Marguerite Henry, wishing I were the one in the middle of the action. I never drew horse pictures, never begged my parents for riding lessons and never spent my days dreaming of the moment I’d finally have one to call my very own.

It wasn’t until I was 15 that I began to pay attention to them, and it happened almost by accident. Things changed for me that morning in tenth grade when I opened the local newspaper and decided to look through the horse racing page. I didn’t know very much about racing, and most of what I read that morning I didn’t understand. But something had grabbed my interest, something that made me want to learn more. From then on, I was hooked.

Soon, stories of fast horses, great jockeys, and unforgettable races captured my imagination. While my classmates focused on the Super Bowl or the NBA playoffs, my attention was drawn instead to major events like the Kentucky Derby and the Breeders’ Cup. I became so captivated that by the time I left high school, I finally had a horse dream of my own. I decided that at some point – - ten, 20, 30 years in the future or whenever – - I wanted a racehorse.

The thought of owning one filled my mind with exciting images. I dreamed about the big moments, about watching my horse storm down the stretch at Churchill Downs to win the Kentucky Derby, the world’s greatest race. I pictured the quiet times, too – - standing with him in the afternoon breeze, admiring his beauty as he munched on grass. It was an expensive dream, I knew, but one I was determined to reach someday. And it was that dream which took me to an out-of-the-way ranch one hot September Sunday. That’s where I found him.

The circumstances, which brought him to that same ranch, I may never fully know. He was a gelding, eight years old and chestnut in color and the tattoo beneath his upper lip said that he was a registered Thoroughbred. Other than that, he had no identity. Nobody knew his name, and nobody knew exactly where he came from. Part of his life had been spent on the track, and though he was a descendant of the legendary Man O’ War as well as the great sire Bold Ruler, he couldn’t earn his keep as a racehorse. He simply wasn’t good enough. One way or another, he eventually wound up at that ranch – - unlucky and unwanted.

But he wasn’t the only one there, and this wasn’t a place where horses went to have a peaceful life. This ranch was not a home. Instead, it was a dead end, the last stop for this gelding and many more like him – - horses of all breeds and sizes, ages and colors. Some were sick and injured, some were healthy and useful. But they were all abandoned. These were horses who had no other place to go, horses who were living out their final grim days. Eventually, this young chestnut would be crammed with several others onto a truck bound for Texas. There, after a nonstop journey without food or water, this young chestnut and the rest would be killed, slaughtered for their meat.

On that Sunday afternoon, however, his life and my life changed forever. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on him, too. As he stood in the corner of a pen, towering like a giant over the others, only one thought sped through my mind: “There’s no way I’m going to get on him!” To that point, my experience with horses was very limited. Yes, I had spent the summer working for a stable at a nearby racetrack, but that was about it. Riding this massive beast seemed like it would be a rodeo, and when it took six people and nearly ten minutes just to catch him, my confidence was shaky.

It wasn’t as if I was looking to buy a horse anyway. I didn’t have any place to keep one. I didn’t own any tack. And I certainly didn’t have the consent of my parents. In no way was my family and I prepared to take such a big step. Plus, my money was being saved for my dream, for that future-racing superstar, not some hopeless, forgotten soul who refused to cooperate.

But then I witnessed a transformation. It happened the instant we got the halter on him. No longer was he a wild runaway. Instead, the big guy really surprised me with his kind behavior. I led him out of the pen myself, and he walked like a gentleman the entire way. He stood quietly by a tree, allowing me to brush him up. That’s when I started to wonder. Was this really the same horse that had me nervous just a few moments earlier? Was I actually going to ride him? Was this the horse I was truly looking for?

His body showed the scrapes and scars of neglect. He didn’t have his own stall, his own feeder, or his own water tub. For weeks, maybe months, he had been forced to fight for both space and food. Those with more educated eyes would have immediately noticed his flaws – - his crooked front legs, his beat-up, fragile feet, the odd, bulging veins around his right eye. What I saw, though, was a beautiful coat as red as brick. I saw the thin blaze running down his face, those two socks, and that relaxed attitude. I also saw an animal in desperate need of rescue. In my eyes, he seemed perfect. When I finally settled into the saddle a few minutes later, I knew for sure. This was the horse for me.

It has been almost a decade since that unforgettable day. For just $1,500 – - money I earned through the sweat of hard work and a bunch of recycled cans – - I eventually bought that gelding. Life for both of us has never been the same. Somehow, I can’t say what it is exactly that makes him so special. Maybe it’s the way he nickers when he hears my voice each day, or the way he scratches his sweaty head on my shoulder after a long trail ride. Perhaps it’s how he stretches his neck out while he eats watermelon, savoring every bite. What’s clear, however, is that Trivet – - my racehorse, my friend – - is a dream that came true.

I guess it’s not hard to tell who the lucky one is after all.

Craig Harzmann

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Who Is The Lucky One ?

Horse trainer Nick Zito would be making Pops proud. Cousin Nick is my stepfather’s name sake in the Nicholas John Mastrocola family of Newport Beach, California. As I was growing up working on ranches of the West, Nick was getting started in the world of horse racing in the East. Pops followed his rising career closely and we all sported the race day caps he would send out to us. Pops has been gone 11 years now but the rest of us have quietly kept track of Nick Zito’s presence in the thoroughbred race world. One of my treasures is the bunch of roses Nick gave me from the rose blanket awarded Go For Gin, a 1994 Kentucky Derby winner he trained.  Looking at his track record in the horse racing industry we know he’s been really busy. Twenty years ago Nick Zito became a trainer of a Kentucky Derby winner when Strike the Gold won the 1991 Kentucky Derby. I have spent 45 years in horse rehabilitation work in the west and know firsthand you live and breathe the work, it is in your blood and your focus most waking hours.

This year Nick’s 2011 Kentucky Derby horse Dialed In holds an affiliation to a friend and colleague in California. Dialed In was bred by wild horse advocate Madeline Pickens. Dialed In has won at Churchill Downs when he raced back in November. Since then Dialed In has won twice in three starts: Holy Bull and the Florida Derby.  

So I am hoping to get another Kentucky Derby winner hat when Dialed In wins the Kentucky Derby. Good luck cousin Nick.

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Cousin Nick Zito | Dialed In

By: Bill Heller

We had no idea that the Hopeful Stakes at Saratoga was the premier race for two-years-olds in the country, or that it’s name was derived from owners hoping their two-year-olds would challenge in the Triple Crown Classics the following spring.
We were just four friends with nothing to do on a Saturday afternoon on the weekend before our classes started at Albany State University in 1972.

One of us, Mike, had a car. And somebody said, “Let’s go to Saratoga.”

I had never been to a thoroughbred racetrack, though I’d been schooled on harness racing at Monticello Raceway near my home in Liberty, N.Y., the heart of the Catskills featuring famed Grossinger’s Hotel.

My three friends were all from Long Island. I think Mike had been to Belmont Park or Aqueduct. I’m not sure about Howie. And I don’t think Owen had ever gone to the races.

So we crammed into Mike’s car and headed up the Northway to Saratoga Springs. None of us had ever been there.

About to begin our sophomore years in college, we were clever enough to find our way to the racetrack without asking anyone for directions. But why, we wondered, was the parking lot completely empty on a Saturday? Earlier that day, in a brief moment of intelligence, one of us had actually purchased an Albany newspaper to make sure Saratoga was open.

We stood outside the car and puzzled it out.

“Well, there can’t be two racetracks in the same city,” one of us, I’m afraid it might have been me, said.

After a couple minutes we deduced that there must be two racetracks.
We, of course, had driven to Saratoga Harness, not Saratoga Race Course.

Saratoga Race Course in 1972 was not as popular as present-day Saratoga, but there was a pretty good-sized crowd when we located the right racetrack, which is literally across the street from Saratoga Harness.

I don’t remember what race we got there for, but I sure remember that it was well before the feature race that afternoon, a stakes called the Hopeful for two-year-old colts.

There was a big favorite named Secretariat. I didn’t bet the race, but Howie and Mike each put up $1 to bet a 99-1 shot to show who didn’t quite get there.

I will never forget watching the Hopeful from the track apron. Even without binoculars or a jumbo video screen, it was easy to see that Secretariat had gotten away last.

He then engulfed the entire field of horses in front of him racing maybe five wide on the turn and won easily.

I was hooked for life. Howie, who now lives in Maryland, was, too. Every spring, my son and I go to visit him and enjoy Preakness weekend at Pimlico; every August, he comes back to upstate New York for the Travers Stakes.

Thanks to a man who quickly became a good friend, Secretariat’s former jockey, Ron Turcotte, I got another look at the 1972 Hopeful in Ronnie’s den while I was working on Ronnie’s biography, “The Will To Win.” The race was as spectacular as I had remembered. Getting to watch it in slow motion with Ronnie was an added delight.

Ronnie, of course, had ridden Secretariat to win the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes and Belmont Stakes in 1973, making Secretariat the first Triple Crown winner in 25 years.

The three races were spectacular. In the Derby, Secretariat rallied from last to first, posting the fastest Derby ever by running each quarter mile in the mile and a quarter Classic progressively faster. Horses just don’t do that. They get tired during a race.

Secretariat’s Preakness may have been Ronnie’s greatest ride. Sensing a developing slow pace, Ronnie shot Secretariat to the lead with a sudden whoosh on the first turn, going from last to first in the blink of an eye, then holding that lead safe to again beat his rival Sham, who had also finished second in the Kentucky Derby.

In the week leading up to the Belmont Stakes, Secretariat posted another triple, gracing the covers of Time, Newsweek and Sports Illustrated in the same week. Then Secretariat delivered the most dominant performance in Triple Crown history, not only winning the Belmont Stakes to become the first Triple Crown winner since Citation in 1948, but winning by 31 lengths and setting a world record of 2:24 for the mile and a half.

In the 133 runnings of the Belmont Stakes before and after Secretariat, the closest any winner has come to 2:24 was 2:26 posted by Easy Goer in 1989 and A.P. Indy in 1992. In horse racing, a fifth of a second is equivalent to one length. Easy Goer, who won his Belmont Stakes by eight lengths, and A.P. Indy, who won his by just three-quarters of a length, would have finished 10 lengths behind Secretariat.

The Hopeful had been a glimpse of future greatness. To this day, I still can’t believe how lucky I was to go to Saratoga that August afternoon with nothing to do.

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Lucky To See Secretariat In Saratoga | A Legendary Horse Story

Read about Nick Zito and Ice Box CLICK HERE

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Super Saver and Calvin Borel Win Kentucky Derby

Nick Zito thinks his odds are good this year with Ice Box, who is a powerhouse come from behind closer who came up from last place to win the Florida Derby and Jackson Bend who has placed second in the last three straight graded preps.

Ice Box has not had a race in six weeks, which may or may not be a problem in this years Kentucky Derby.  Ice Box’s fractions are what make him fast enough to win. He ran the last three-eighths in :36.6 and the last eighth in :12.3. That would be fast enough to win most of the Kentucky Derby races over the past 25 years.

“But he’s going to have to get lucky,” Zito cautioned.

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Trainer Nick Zito | Kentucky Derby

Jake and Digger| An Amazing Horseracing Story About two Standardbred Racehorses

By: Mary Ann Molnar

Some people believe that horses aren’t as smart as people. I believe you can look into a horses eyes and see all the way into their souls. They are quite intelligent, have families, make friends, and mourn the loss of any of these things. The following story is about two standardbred  horses that are special. Some people believe they know these animals but there are many horses whose memories are rolled up into two. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Jake and Digger first encountered each other  when they were both purchased as yearlings at the fall sale. Both colts were purchased for a reasonable amount, although Digger was smaller the conformation was decent and the breeding acceptable. After being purchased by the same owner the boys were thrown out in the same pasture with 20 other youngsters to grow.

This is where competition is born and speed is found. Day after day the babies raced around the paddock playing tag and rough housing. Every afternoon you could look out at the paddock and see babies sleeping in the grass, basking in the sun, dreaming of races to come. Grooms came out to the paddock everyday to brush the babies, pick up their feet and learn to be led around. Digger was the pet of all the grooms because of his easy disposition, but they also liked Jake for intelligence and his eagerness to learn. As fall turned into winter the babies were sent into the barn and separated into their own stalls. Jake and Digger ended up next to each other and that suited them just fine. When introduced to the bridle and harness Jake was defiant , not impressed and would of been just as happy to have nothing to do with any of it. Digger on the other hand put up no fight and responded to the soothing words from the caretakers. Pretty soon both boys accepted there fate and their destinys. When the hobbles were introduced Jake took on a pace that would take your  breath away. Digger on the other hand struggled helplessly and would become nervous and resort to galloping instead of pacing. The hobbles hurt his legs and because of his size he would tire easily. On the track Jake was the star but in the barn Digger was becoming the stable pet. Everyone took a liking to the little colt who tried harder than anyone else and never gave up. There was even some talk about cross training him to ride in case he didn’t make it as a racehorse. As their training progressed  the two colts were separated into different training groups. They remained next to each other in the barn, shared grain and through the bars in the walls between them they often chatted about their latest lessons.

Jake was moved up to the 1st group of colts , the ones who showed a great deal of promise  and speed. Digger was training with slower learners an issue he often took up with Jake. He had finally learned how to pace but it wasn’t pretty. Jake on the other hand was a star. He carried himself with defiance and grace. He made everything appear easy. As spring made its way around many of the young colts had fallen to the wayside by either size, soreness or injury. They were turned out for another try next year. Jake was preparing for his first stake race.  One day after a training session  he was returned to his stall and Digger was already there and so was the vet. The colt didn’t appear to be in any pain so Jake went about eating his hay and waited for the humans to leave. After everyone left he beckoned the colt over to  the wall.

Baby soreness they called it. He was too small, so Jake would have to go about it alone. Digger knew it was his destiny to watch and not participate. But he also knew Jake was headed for greatness. Digger reassured Jake he was fine and there was some talk about enrolling him in jumping classes and see how he would fair as someones pet. As time went on Jake went on to win stakes race after stakes race doing it all for Digger. When he was on the road he was hateful and distrusting but as soon as the trailer  pulled up to take him back to the farm he did a complete transformation. Into one of the most loving and trusting. He always  had a tale to tell Digger about all the different racetracks and the animals he had seen. Digger was always full of tales about children and fences he would jump. Digger had finally found his calling and was thrilled with his life, but was very worried about Jake. He had heard  the grooms talking about his latest road trip and what a horror show it was. They were calling him borderline unmanagable and there was even some talk about taking him away from the girl with the soothing voice who had taken care of him all along. He was headed to a horrible life with the loud man who believed you could force a horse to do anything. The grooms couldn’t believe he was the same horse on the farm  and the girl insisted it was because of  Digger.

They told her she was crazy and she better get a handle on him because he had only one stake race yet and it was the big one. Training for this would take one week, she had that amount of time to convince him to be a good boy. After everyone left she went into his stall with a soft body brush and went all over him talking softly but loud enough so Digger could hear. ”Jake , this the most important race of you life and you have to behave or they will make me go away, anyway you will not be alone on this trip , they are having a petting zoo at this racetrack and  the boss thinks Digger could use some kid exposure so after pulling a couple of strings you guys are going to ship together .

“I think it will help your disposition.” Jake nuzzled the girl on her way out of the stall so she would know he understood. For the rest of the week Jake was on his best behavior and everyone was amazed. His training sessions were incredible and soon the farm was buzzing with excitement. The plan was to ship the day before the race so that they could have a day of rest before the race. When it came time to load in the trailer he was behaving like the perfect gentleman. When they went to put Digger in the trailer the farm foreman began complaining about shipping two. When they went to take Digger off the trailer Jake began to thrash wildly expressing his dislike for the situation. The trainer upon hearing the commotion came running out of the office, ”What the hell is going on? he shouted.” The groom stepped forward and said ”I wanted to ship the colt with his barn buddy to keep him relaxed.”  They went to unload him and Jake threw himself about it. “If this colt hurts himself shipping you won’t have to worry about the stakes race.” A deal was struck then and there. The boys would ship together  and the groom would look after both of them. As soon as the colt was reloaded you never heard a peep out of either one of them for the entire trip. On the way there Jake described to Digger what he would see there, and pretty soon they were both pretty excited. The day before the big race was filled with interviews and pictures. Jake was the picture of ease you couldn’t ask for a nicer guy. Digger on the other hand was becoming a favorite mascot among the press. They thought it was a novelty that a racing superstar had a jumping horse for a best friend. Many people came and took pictures of the two and everyone commented on how they had a genuine liking for each other.

The morning of the big race Jake was nervous and uneasy. Digger on the other hand was relaxed and enjoying everything that was going on around him. Jake and Digger had to be separated at 9:00 a.m.  Jake had to be in the detention barn and Digger had to get ready for his very first real public appearance. As post time approached  and it was time for Jake to report to the paddock an unreal feeling came over him. This was his destiny, what he was born for. No matter what else happened in his life he would not forget this moment in time. As he went his warm up mile he heard a familiar whinny wishing him good luck. And he knew no matter what else happened Digger was with him and he always would be. As the prepared for the post parade the trainer was helping the groom hook in and commented how great Jake was behaving. The groom said, “You have to give Digger the credit because he has a calming effect on this colt.” “ I tell you what Jake old boy you win this race you and Digger  will never be apart again”, The trainer stated. “ I  will hold you to your word sir” . The groom said. As the horses were led out on the track one at a time a spot light hit them. When it became Jakes turn he turned his head towards the barn and  whinnied loudly  as if to say here we go Digger boy. Jake was meant to be a star that night. He won the race in a world record time. And as the trophy was handed to the owner, the blanket was put on Jake and the flowers put around his neck. The groom in tears looked towards the shedrow and pulled Jakes head around, so he could see the  boy lead the small horse out from the shadows towards the winners circle. Jake hollered and threw his head. Digger replied by answering him and rearing up. The trainer said ”you won Jake now you two can be together always.” The groom said “congratulations Jake you did it” kissing him on his cheek. Even though that night was years ago Jake remembers it well. He has not left the farm for years. He raced some at 3 yrs old but a freak trucking accident ended his racing career and began his breeding career. He has had many wonderful offspring and I am sure you are wondering what had happened to Digger. Well he went on to an amateur jumping champion for 4 yrs in a row. The soreness he had as a youngster came back to haunt him in his older years. The trainer ended up buying him back so he could keep his word and let him live out his life with Jake at the farm. And now as the years go by if you drive by the farm you will see two older horses in the front pasture watching the yearlings play and enjoy each others company.

Mary Ann Molnar

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Jake and Digger| An Amazing Horseracing Story About two Standardbred Racehorses

A True Champion| A Special Horseracing Story

By: Noreen Evans

This was the moment. He was sure that no other horse felt the same way he did. Nervous excitement charged through him like an electric shock. He could feel his Jockey Balancing tensely upon his back. He could hear the other horses snorting, their Jockeys whispering encouraging words to their mounts. Breathing in deeply he could smell the sweat that was surfacing upon the other horses shoulders and flanks as well as his own. The smell of the Jockeys’ boot polish also filled his nostrils and he exhaled to rid himself of the unpleasant odor. In the work of a few seconds he noticed these things while the crowd became silent.

Then the ringing of the bell! “This is it!” he thought as he burst out from the gate, “this is what I have worked my whole life for.” And he shot to the third place position. The race seemed to happen in slow motion, giving him the same feeling that he had felt in the previous two races of the Triple Crown series. Now was his final moment of glory and he felt the intense need to please the fans that screamed their encouragement all around him. Pulling up from third place, he ran side by side with the bay on his left, his nose inches away from his shoulder. “Now!” His Jockey yelled, leaning farther over his neck and showing him the whip. This he had no need to use for he was shooting ahead already. But no! The bay horse to the left was moving up as well, and the dark brown was moving up between them. Now is the final quarter of the race and he is giving his all, and he was sure it would be enough! He was winning, but what was the pain coursing through his front leg so close to the end of the race? It cant be very bad, the jockey was still urging him on, not noticing at first the uncomfortable motions that his horse was making. “Push on, push on I have to win this!” he was thinking, “no!” he tries to say to his Jockey, “don’t make me stop!”

And now he is standing, one leg off the ground in obvious pain and only a third place finish and his jockey crying beside him, not because they lost, but because of his pain. But what is this he hears? A reporting crew coming up to the Jockey. They are asking him questions. “Are you disappointed not to ride this to the win when you were so close?” they ask him. And he puts his head down in defeat, yet the Jockey answers to everyone’s complete surprise, “I could never be disappointed in this horse, there will never be a horse to show so much heart and willpower as this one did, I am sure that I will never have the chance to ride a better horse. This one is a winner in everyone’s heart today.” And it was true. Good show Charismatic, it was defiantly worth the work.

By: Noreen Evans Loosely based upon the story of the Triple Crown races of 1999

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A True Champion| A Special Horseracing Story