The Triple Crown

The Belmont Stakes

Notes: I've made a few changes to the race.

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BELMONT PARK

Saturday, June 5, 2004

11th (6:38)

Belmont S. (G1)

1 1/2 Miles Dirt Open 3 Year Olds

Stakes - Purse:$1,000,000

Post # Horse Jockey Weight odds

1 Master David Santos J A 126 20-1

2 Purge Velazquez J R 126 5-1

3 Caiman Dominguez R A 126 50-1

4 Birdstone Prado E S 126 15-1

5 Rock Hard Ten Solis A 126 8-1

6 Royal Assault Day P 126 20-1

7 Tap Dancer Castellano J J 126 50-1

8 Eddington Bailey J D 126 10-1

9 Smarty Jones Elliott S 126 2-1

10 Southern Oregon St Taylor J 126 3-5

Pimlico Race Course. Three weeks earlier.

"…He's pulling away, he's pulling away to win impressively here." yells track announcer Tom Durkin… "And here's Southern Oregon State and Justin Taylor. He's going to win by a colossal margin. He wins the Preakness by a dozen lengths. And it's on to Belmont. The pride of Southern Oregon continues his magical way to the elusive Triple Crown…."

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"I'm scared."

Those were two words that I never thought would ever pass Justin's lips. It's the night before the Belmont Stakes and he'd been tossing and turning all night, keeping us both awake. I rolled over and look at him. He was sitting up in the darkness. His chin was resting on his knees. His arms wrapped around his legs.

It had been five long weeks since he rode to victory in the Kentucky Derby. Three weeks since he won the Preakness Stakes. But it had also been five long weeks of incredible pressure and stress. It looks like it finally got to him. Tomorrow there was only one horse on the entire planet that has a chance to win the Triple Crown of thoroughbred horse racing. And Justin was going to ride that horse. Ride him to either victory or defeat.

"I know." You say as you sit up and put your arm around him in the dark.

"What if I lose? All those people are counting on me."

"Doesn't matter what they think. You do your best. That's all they can ask. Besides I think the horse may have a little something to say about what happens tomorrow"

"You think?" Justin said with a small smirk.

I kissed him on the top of his head. "Yeah. Feel a little better?" I asked.

"A little." He said curling up tighter to me. And that's how we spent the rest of the night.

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We tried to make it just another drive in the dark to work. Justin was inside himself again in the passenger seat of the jeep. I could see him flexing his right hand. It had bothered him ever since the crash a couple of years ago that almost killed him.

"Hand again? I asked

"Yeah and what the stewards don't know won't hurt them." If the racing stewards knew he was still having problems they might not let him ride. One day he'll have to stop racing. But it will have to be his decision. I for one would never say anything that would take it away from him.

We pulled up to the barn area at Belmont Park. We could see Southern in his stall from where we parked. He was standing there glaring at us as if to say "You're late." Sid Vicious, our barn dog, came out to greet us. Bet she'd been guarding her baby all night. The reporters had finally learned to keep their distance. We figured the score was Sid 4, Reporters 0. Hell the last reporter who didn't listen only needed 20 stitches.

Justin went off to get his workout gear. I walked up to the stall, talking gently. I gave him his morning apple with a little TLC. It's amazing how he's matured these last five weeks. No more head games, no more tantrums. He's really becoming a great horse.

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I watched Justin on the track jog Southern past me. There's nothing more beautiful then a race track as the sun just comes up, except maybe Justin on a horse. It's my favorite time of the day with the morning mist rising into the quiet. But this morning the silence was interrupted by the sound of photographers and reporters shouting out questions. It's what happens when you're in charge of the most famous race horse in the world.

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We got Southern back to the barn. Cleaned him up, fed him and put him back in his stall to relax the rest of the day. A little while later I checked on the stall. Southern and Sid were curled up in the corner snoring away. I just smiled and shook my head. At least someone was relaxed about today.

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Einstein said time is relative. He must be right. Time has never traveled slower then it traveled this day. It felt like three days till it was time to get ready. I lead the horse to the paddock area with our grooms and under guard.

The crowds were huge. We heard the constant clicking of cameras and got shouts of encouragement as we arrived at out stall. We got the saddle and all his equipment on and check everything. Then I checked it again and once again.

Justin arrived in his colors to more camera clicks and shouts of good will. I know he had the butterflies but was doing his best to hide it. I can just imagine him repeating to himself "It's just another race." over and over. It's not but it doesn't hurt to try.

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"Riders up!"

It was time. Brian held out his hand and boasted me up into the saddle. We were the last horse so we had to hang back for a few moments. But as we started to move the cheers started from the standing room only crowd. God did that feel great. Cameras were clicking, people cheered and shouted encouragement. All of them, no matter who they bet on, wanted to see us win and make history.

Today's parade was a little different. Brian had the bridle and was walking us to the track. I took the time to just experience the moment. This may be my only chance. The cheers got louder as we approached the grandstand. We had to go through a wide tunnel to get to the track.

As we cleared the tunnel the roar really began. They expected a 120,000 people at the track today. And it sounded like everyone was cheering for the three of you. Brian got ready to hand us off to the outrider. We couldn't hear each other clearly over the crowd but he just gave me a thumbs up. That said enough

It was hard not to look around and try and appreciate the moment while you warmed the horse up. The post parade went up the homestretch for a bit and then turned around to return to the starting gate. The track announcer announced every horse. He got to you last. That's when the roar really went up again. Those people were there to see one thing. A Triple Crown.

The butterflies really hit at the starting gate. Because of the problems with Rock Hard Ten at Pimlico he was going to load first. It was a good idea because psycho lived up to his reputation. All we could do is stand and wait. You scratched Southern between his ears, rubbed his neck and just talked to him to keep him calm. But it's more like he's keeping you calm.

Eventually Rock Hard Ten got shoved into the gate. Then the rest of the horses started loading. Since you're in post position number 10 you have to wait a bit. Eventually it's your turn and the assistant starter leads you into the gate.

"Southern Oregon State takes his spot in post 10, moments away from the start. Will he take his place in racing history, we'll see?" track announcer Tom Durkin says.

The gate slams shut behind you as the assistant starter climbs up and gets out of the way. He'll hold Southern steady in the gate till it opens. Then he'll let go of the bridle and let Southen run free. You wait for what seems like an eternity. Then the buzzer goes off, the gate flies open and your destiny awaits.

"They're off in the 136th Belmont!" yells the track announcer. "Southern Oregon got off to a good beginning today. Smarty Jones goes with him. Eddington's not off particularly well. Rock Hard Ten is showing speed this afternoon. He's right up there on the inside with the leaders. Purge comes through on the rail. And Eddington will be on the outside of Southern Oregon and Smarty Jones as they move into the club house turn. And it's Caiman now who's running 6th and angles over toward the inside. Birdstone, in between horses is 7th. Royal Assault is 8th. Master David is reigned in to run back in 9th position. And long shot Tap Dancer trails the field."

Don't press him to hard you tell yourself. The race is a mile and half around. Just take it easy, don't force him and just try and stay out of traffic you tell yourself.

"Purge is the leader. Rock Hard Ten's right up on the pace today. And Justin Taylor's trying to find a comfort zone there with Southern Oregon. They're in the clear on the outside third. Smarty Jones is inside fourth. Not far behind, Jerry Bailey and Eddington running along in 5th. Then they're followed by Royal Assault and Birdstone on the outside. The opening quarter went in 24 and 1/5 seconds, the half 48 and 3/5 seconds. The pace is fairly soft."

"As they begin they're long journey down the Belmont backstretch Smarty Jones moves up and takes the lead. Eddington goes with him. And Rock Hard Ten looms large just in behind the lead. He's only 2 lengths back. Southern Oregon's just sitting behind the leaders fourth. There's a break of another 2 and a half to Purge down toward the inside. He's working harder to be fifth. Birdstone's along side him."

"The field's now moving toward the five furlong marker. Smarty Jones leads, with a challenge on the inside from Rock Hard Ten. There's five furlongs to go. Just a minute from the wire. Can Southern make his move? He has one more minute."

Ok baby it's now or never. You tap him with the whip and try to spur him on. You head for the lead through the far turn.

"Rock Hard Ten is pressing from the inside. Eddington is working harder to stay within two lengths of the lead. Birdstone commences a rally. He's six lengths from the front. Purge has nothing left. Then farther back its Royal Assault, Master David and Tap Dancer. Around the far turn and here comes Southern Oregon State. He's let it out a notch to take the lead by a length and a half. Birdstone is coming up on the outside. Smarty Jones is trying to rally. Rock Hard Ten is toiling. He's now three lengths behind. They're coming to the top of the stretch."

You're on the lead at the top of the stretch when you literally hit a wall of sound as 120,000 people are on their feet screaming for you to win. You can see the finish line and there's nothing between you and it.

"C'mon Sunshine!" yells Brian at the top of his lungs. "You can do it baby!" Every horse racing fan in the world is screaming along with Brian. History is about to be made.

"Southern Oregon has a three length lead. Birdstone is moving to be second on the outside. Smarty Jones is back to third but gaining. Southern Oregon enters the stretch to the roar of a 120,000. But Birdstone is going to make him earn it today."

But it isn't like the last two races. Southern has the lead down the stretch but he's not pulling away. In fact his lead is gradually shrinking.

"The whip is out on Southern Oregon. It's been 26 years. It's just one furlong away. Birdstone is an outside threat. Smarty Jones gaining on the inside. They're coming down to the finish. Can Southern Oregon hold on?"

In the last furlong first one horse passes you, then another. You watch them pull away in front of you as the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

You lost.

"Here comes Birdstone. Birdstone surges past. Smarty Jones passes on the inside."

You can't think about that now. To much can happen and you have to finish the race. You glance behind you and see you're far enough ahead to hold third. You ease up a little on the horse. He doesn't have it in him and to force him to try and find it would be abuse. You won't do that. You'd never do that to horse. You can just coast to the finish line.

"Birdstone wins the Belmont Stakes. Smarty Jones's 2nd. Southern Oregon was valiant but vanquished finishing 3nd. And so this Triple Crown remains vacated for 26 long years And this magical Triple Crown trail of Southern Oregon comes to a disheartening end in the final strides of this Belmont Stakes."

Southern runs the last furlong a little awkward but you pilot him to the finish line for a third place finish. Then all hell brakes loose. It was an awkward step he took at the finish line that almost throws you from his back. You hang on for dear life. The nightmare images of the crash that almost killed you a few years ago flood back into your mind.

As you manage to steady yourself you see Southern is trying to run but he's limping badly on his left front. You realize he's hurt and he's hurting himself more with every step. You do the only thing you can. You stand up in the irons and pull his reigns tight to brake him and get him to stop. As he finally slows you leap off his back and land awkwardly, falling on your ass, but not losing your grip on the reigns. As you sit there you feel the breeze as the rest of the field flies past you, only missing you by inches. You stand up as fast as you can and grab his injured leg and lift it up. It will stop him from moving and hurting himself anymore till the equine ambulance can get to him.

Horses can go into shock real fast when they're hurt. You try and talk softly to him to keep him calm but you can start to feel him shake. But in your mind you're yelling. "Don't die. Please don't die."

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You couldn't see the finish line from where you were sitting in the grandstand. All the cameras were blocking your view. But you saw enough. There was going to be no Triple Crown this year. You and the owner look at each and exchange glances. No words are necessary to describe each others disappointment.

"Hey somebody broke down at the wire." you hear someone say. Your view of the finish line is partially blocked so you try and look around people to see who it is. You finally get a glance at who it is.

"Oh shit."

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You rush out of the grandstand and get to the horse just after the equine ambulance gets there. Justin is standing off to the side holding his saddle. Then you watch him slowly walk away. He's got to be the loneliest man in the universe right now. I hope he'll understand one day why I can't be there for him right now.

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I don't even remember the walk back to the jocks room. I was just so numb. The guys look at me then avoided me. Some of them had been there before, losing this last race. But none of them crippled a horse like I just did. They know the best thing is to just stay away.

I walk to the bath room and go into the farthest stall. There I just sit down and let the dam break. All the pent up emotions of the last five weeks come out. I just sit and cry.

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It's not as bad as they first thought. There were two partial breaks in his left ankle. He's got a temporary cast now. They've also sedated him and he's resting comfortably in his stall. Tomorrow they'll operate and insert a couple of pins to help stabilize the fractures.

But no matter what happens with the surgery the decision has been made that his racing days are over. He's going to be retired to stud on some nice farm somewhere. Learning to be a horse again and galloping around some grassy meadow. All he has to look forward to now is a life of eating, sleeping and screwing. Wonder where I can get a job like that?

You hear Justin come into the barn area and walk over to the stall. You peek around the corner and you see him holding Southern's head cradled against his chest and just pets him softly. You walk up to him quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Justin doesn't say anything for a while.

"It's my fault." He finally whispers softly

"No it's not. I watched the tape, you did nothing wrong." You try and say convincingly.

"I was so full of myself. I thought we were invincible."

There's nothing you can say as Justin turns and just grabs you and holds you tight. You tell him what the vets told you. How the horse is going to be alright and how he was going to be retired. As he absorbs the news you feel him relax and then you know he's going to be alright with time.

You both realize it's time to leave. Justin goes over and gives the horse one last hug and kiss. Almost as if he's trying to get absolution for what happened. Then I put my arm around him as we walk out to the jeep.

"You know the owner has a couple of 2 year olds he wants me to train." I tell him.

"Hey that's good news."

"And he wants you to ride them."

"Even after what happened?."

"Especially after what happened. You saved that horses life."

"But…"

"No buts. You did good today." I think it's finally starting to sink in because I finally got a little bit of a smile back. That's the beauty of horse racing. It's why a 99 year old trainer can buy yearlings for a Derby two years in the future.

There's always a tomorrow.

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Authors note:

Truth is always stranger then fiction. The events I've described really happened. In 1999 Charismatic with jockey Chris Antley were trying to win the Triple Crown. Antley, who had just returned to racing after a battle with addiction and depression, was leading down the home stretch but faded to third. But just as they got to the finish line Charismatic took a bad step with the consequences I've described. It was only Antley's quick thinking that saved Charismatic from having to be put down.

Today Charismatic is alive and well and standing at stud, happily making little race horses. On the other hand Chris Antley, who saved Charismatic's life, sadly couldn't save himself. His twin demons of depression and addiction returned. Antley left racing after knee surgery in March 2002 and on December 2, 2002 died in his Pasadena home of what the police ruled was an overdose. He was 34.

In case the question has come up, yes I'm a graduate of Southern Oregon State (now Southern Oregon University), Class of 1988. And no I don't own any race horses.

Yet.

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