Raja, Story of a Racehorse (7 page)

One horse on my inside tried to create a gap and bumped into me, breaking my rhythm. I lost momentum and two horses passed me. Now I was mad. I could tell Willie was frustrated too. He steered me to the outside, the long way around.

Finally, room to move.

He let me out a notch, not full speed, but my running pace. We began to move up and pass horses, sixth, now fifth. Rounding the final turn, Willie made his move, a little early, but I had plenty left. We began to run. The track was wide open, inviting, as if the race, the win, already existed and I just needed to tap into it, to claim it as my own.

Faster, FASTER!

Now we were fourth, now third, now second. I drew next to Max, who was in the lead. Coming into the home stretch, it was Max and me, alone, neck and neck.

OK, Max, this is it. Who is it going to be?

I looked him in the eye, just like all of those times back at the farm. This time I didn't play with him. Every part of me was focused on going forward and going fast.

“Come on, baby,” Willie smooched as I blew by Max.

“And it's Raja! Raja wins by six lengths.”

The announcer's voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Then we were under the wire, no one else anywhere near us. Willie stood up in his stirrups to pull me up, giving me a big pat, then, dropped the reins to hug me as we jigged back to the finish line.

“Good boy, Raja! You're a machine!”

A woman on a horse accompanied us to the winner's circle. “What a race! What power, what grace! You won this Grade One race by a very impressive six lengths.

What was your strategy? Is Raja the new superhorse?”

A new round of cheers burst out to greet us as we approached the stands.

Ah, my people! I turned and nodded to them. I loved them and they loved me. Everything is beautiful! Perfect, the best it ever was, the best it ever could be.

“Nice job, Raja!”

“Way to go, number six!”

Black streaks of tears smudged Princess Ayesha's face as she smiled jubilantly, oblivious to the throngs of people shouting questions at her and taking our picture. She couldn't stop petting me and kissing me. This time the photographers followed us back to the barn. I loved the attention and, especially, I loved being the best.

Winning! There's nothing better!

January, Gulfstream Park, Florida

“I think Raja should run in the Fountain of Youth Stakes in February and then the Florida Derby in March,” Alex spoke to Chris as he wrote in a notebook with a look of intense concentration on his face. After a month's vacation at the farm in Florida, we were back in training at a racetrack.

“They're both here at Gulfstream, so there won't be the stress of travel. I'd rather not run him and Max against each other, but I may have to in the Florida Derby since that's an important Kentucky Derby prep race.”

The Kentucky Derby!

Here at Gulfstream Park all everyone talked about was the Kentucky Derby, the “Run for the Roses,” the first and biggest race in the Triple Crown on the first Saturday in May. Alex was obsessed with our legs, our eating habits, our training schedule, even our poop. The days sped by in a blur of training, sunshine, sand, sweat, baths and the sweet perfume of flowers and horse shampoo.

“Raj, I heard Annapurna's coming,” Max said the day before the race. “You're both undefeated. Remember, you're the better horse.”

Thanks, buddy, I'm going to beat him so bad he's going to cry for his mama.

“That's my boy. Bring it home, baby,” Max nickered and tossed his head.

A newspaper page twisted and swooped in front of my stall, held aloft by a strengthening breeze whipping through the shed row.

“Storm's coming. Make sure the barn doors are secure and everything is tied down,” Chris told one of the grooms as he pulled some hay bales deeper under the roof of the shed row and wrapped a blue plastic tarp over them. After supper, a steady rain began pecking at the metal roof, soon turning into a loud roar as the barn rocked and rattled, straining against the powerful wind gusts.

Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.

I fretted and stall-walked the whole night, grinding my bedding into a circle. In the morning I was exhausted.

“You look washed out, like someone ‘got your goat.'” RB was concerned.

What do you mean?

“In the old days, if someone was betting against a horse and wanted to make sure he didn't win, they'd steal his companion goat. The horse would fret all night and lose. Get some rest. You have to beat Annapurna today.”

Da da da dum diggety dum diggety dum, dum dum daa.

Even after the “Call to the Post,” I felt as if I was moving in a fog.

This is an important race and I'm the better horse. I need to focus!

BRRING! We're off.

My body was running but my mind wasn't with it. I ran in the middle of the pack, feeling OK, but not great. Going around the final turn, I saw a grey horse pushing me to the outside of the track.

It's that punk, Sanchez, from Hollywood Bill's stable. He's trying to take me wide to take me out of the race so that Annapurna can win!

Finally, I got mad and snapped out of my stupor. I was on the outside and had a much longer distance to make up, but I was furious and I was on fire. Fifth, now fourth. I passed another horse, moving closer to Annapurna in the lead.

“And here comes Raja. It's Raja, Raja moving up on the outside. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a horse race! Ann-a-PURNA in the lead. But here comes Raja, Raja gaining ground and moving up quickly,” the announcer cried excitedly.

Two strides away, then one, head and head, then under the wire, together.

Did I win? It's too close to tell.

The loudspeaker boomed: “The results from the photo finish are final. The winner is number four, Annapurna, with the number-six horse, Raja, in second, followed by Sanchez. Your official winner for the Fountain of Youth Stakes is number four, Annapurna.”

Second! Only winning counts, second is losing. I should have won, I'm the better horse.

“Good morning, Chris — you're 15 minutes late. We have a busy morning. Please make sure that Shaddy's mane is pulled and he's trimmed up and looking good.” Alex looked up disapprovingly as Chris ambled into the barn with a coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. He had been at the barn for two hours already doing paperwork in the stable office.

“Shaddy's going to Maryland. He's been sold. The van is coming at noon.”

“Sold! Why?” Chris responded, clearly surprised.

“He isn't racing up to the Sheikh's level. You know he wants his horses to win.”

SOLD! Shaddy was sold!

An icy feeling of dread filled my stomach.

If Shaddy could be sold, any of us could be sold.

“Don't worry, the Sheikh sells a lot of his horses to that trainer. I've seen them in Saratoga. They always look well.” RB seemed to read my mind. “He's a good horseman. He'll care for him as a horse, not just an investment.”

I couldn't understand why Shaddy didn't care whether he won or not. He was content to run fifth or even sixth, even though he had the talent to beat most horses.

I'm going to miss my buddy.

Max, Sanchez, Annapurna and I were finally going to run in the same race — the Florida Derby, a Grade One Stakes, our final prep before the Kentucky Derby.

I can't wait.

Voices from the crowd drifted by us as we followed the outriders onto the track. The vivid pinks, yellows, greens, and blues of jockeys' silks seemed more intense against the darkening grey sky. Jigging to the start, I felt fitter than ever, ready to win.

“Go Raja! My money is on you.”

“Bring it home, number three.”

I knew that I could beat Annapurna, Sanchez, and every other horse in the race.

A knot of anticipation formed in my belly as I heard thunder in the distance. Big, burly gate helpers in blue shirts led the number one and two horses into the starting gate. Annapurna, in the fifth position and Max, number seven, would be loaded after me. I entered the gate and heard a click behind me as the door was secured. Willie patted my neck and whispered, “This is it, Raja. Let's give it our all.”

I'll give it more. I want this win, BADLY.

As Annapurna was loaded into the gate, I heard another rumble of thunder and noticed that the sky was getting darker and the wind was picking up. As the number six horse went in the gate, I felt a raindrop. The gate helpers loaded Max, number seven. I heard another rumble — louder, closer.

Let's get on with it. Let's go!

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning split the sky! My heart started to pump wildly as a loud, sound filled my ears. I had to escape but I was stuck in the gate — I HAD to escape!

Nothing else mattered. Up I went, rearing, catching my leg. My head slammed against a metal pole. Everything went black.

April, Florida Equine Hospital,
South Florida

“He has a high temperature. Keep him well hydrated and ice his feet to keep down the risk of laminitis.”