The Legend of Zippy Chippy (22 page)

Even the family was impressed with Zippy's first-ever win over anybody or anything. “He may not have won against other racehorses, but he won today,” said a beaming Marisa, Zippy's good luck charm. For Marisa and two of her girlfriends, accepting the great big trophy (which Zippy tried to eat) to the applause of the crowd was the thrill of a lifetime. Proud as a father watching his kid get his first hit or score his first goal, Felix must have
looked at Zippy and then over at the Ottawa dugout and thought,
I wonder how fast one of them Lynx can run?

Darnell McDonald had never lost a race to a human before, let alone a horse. He, of course, blamed his manager: “They should never have added those extra ten yards.” The loss ended his career as a professional ballplayer. Disheartened and demonized, he spent the rest of his life traveling the country by bus and later hitchhiking, trying to win races against other horses, then donkeys, then ponies, first the sad ones that come to town with the carnival and finally miniature ponies that can fit inside a dog's traveling cage. Eventually, homeless in Florida, he was arrested for trying to break into the Pensacola Greyhound Track. Darnell once raced a chicken across the road and then just sat there wondering why.

Okay, the truth is, Darnell McDonald had a pretty good career in Major League Baseball, playing for five teams, including the New York Yankees, over eight years. But he would never race a horse again. He had that written into his contract.

Zippy, however, was enjoying hanging out with his new two-footed rivals, probably because they didn't fart and snort as much as those who were – okay, born in a barn. Enthusiastically, he took on one more ballplayer the following summer, easily beating outfielder Larry Bigbie by four lengths over the forty-five-yard course. The media coverage of Zippy was so intense that Bigbie, who went 0–4 at bat that day, was still a highlight on ESPN's
SportsCenter
that evening.

The unsung hero of these races was longtime Frontier Field groundskeeper Mike Osborne, who followed Zippy's every move … with a shovel. “I volunteered,” he said, “because I love horses and I love baseball.” A lesser man, when told he ought to have loftier goals in life, might have replied, “What! And quit show business?”

At the ballpark with thousands of people cheering for him, Zippy had left his bad attitude back at the track. He was easy to handle and a pleasure to ride. Carefully considering his new and improved record of two wins and one loss to humans, Felix sounded almost cocky: “He ran to win. He doesn't want to lose anymore.”

Inspired by beating a person, Zippy Chippy would go on to triumph over fellow horses – but, sadly, not thoroughbreds. On St. Patrick's Day at Freehold Raceway in New Jersey, he beat Paddy's Laddy, a Standardbred horse. Paddy's Laddy was a pacer rigged in such a way as to prevent him from running free and at full stride. Heavily harnessed, a pacer does a kind of fast and rhythmical goose step around the track. With no such restrictions, Zippy nipped the fancy dancer at the wire.

Similarly, at Batavia Downs, a harness track near Buffalo, New York, Zippy went up against a trotter named Miss Batavia, who was also trained and tied in such a way as to not actually run. Zippy won yet again against a horse that was handicapped by a harness. Oh, and by the way, Standardbred horses? They also have to drag carts behind them. And the people sitting in those carts are an awful lot larger than jockeys.

“They just love that horse,” said John Clifford, the publicity director of Batavia Downs. “Everybody, even people who knew nothing about racing, knew who Zippy Chippy was.”

The attendance at Batavia Downs doubled for Zippy's appearance, and his legion of relentless followers showed up to fawn over him and take photos. The first one thousand fans through the door received a Zippy Chippy T-shirt. Along with the $7.50 chicken BBQ special, you could get a free photo taken with Zippy Chippy, but you had to hire an off-duty cop to protect your plate of food.

“People were crazy about him,” remembered Clifford. “Everybody knew him. Everybody knows his name. Ask anybody who
won last year's Kentucky Derby and they'll hem and haw. But mention the name Zippy Chippy and they say, ‘That's that horse that never wins!' ”

Zippy's diehard fans brought bags of carrots, small homemade gifts, and copies of
People
magazine for Felix to autograph. Although Zippy embodied the track's motto, “You will always be a winner at Batavia Downs,” neither win against the Standardbred horses improved his official record. They did, however, show that all things being unequal, he could be a champion.

Enjoying the banquet circuit more than his racetrack schedule, Zippy was also feted at a Christmas cocktail party at the Moose Lodge in Canandaigua, just down the road from Felix's barn. Hors d'oeuvres were served on a plate, not in a bag, and the music was provided by Mixed Emotions. All proceeds went to the local charity Happiness House, where a plaque now sits, honoring the horse's fundraising fight against cerebral palsy. Zippy's hooves are imprinted in cement, bringing to mind more bad jokes than I have space for in this book.

However, the life of a celebrity and one of America's most fascinating personalities is not as glamorous as you would think. At his second charity appearance, also at Moose Lodge, Zippy got third billing behind the guest speaker, a guy named Jarod who told his signature story about how he once encountered a wolf cub. A few Rochester Rhinos soccer players also made an appearance. To add insult to injury, Zippy was featured last on the program, behind a classic car show, a raffle, and – have these people no sensitivity whatsoever? – a tortoise-and-hare race. Man, this horse might as well have been owned by Rodney Dangerfield and named Itelly​a​I​get​no​respect.

All well and good, but Zippy's social calendar was cutting into his racing program. With four straight wins on his chart – two
against guys who don't run too well while they're laughing and two against horses shackled at the shoulders and legs – it was time to get the Zipster back on the track and doing what he did best: watching the world and other horses go by.

If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn

you out, how can you compete with horses?

Jeremiah 12:5

Wow! Jeremiah, the double threat – a bullfrog and a prophet! For Zippy's eighty-ninth career race, in mid-February 2001, Felix moved him to Penn National Race Course in Grantville, Pennsylvania, just outside the state capital of Harrisburg. Despite dwindling attendance, Penn National still offers thoroughbred racing almost fifty-two weeks a year, four days a week. It's survival was assured when it was twinned with Hollywood Casino, which boasts six restaurants, including the Celebrity Grill and Glitterati's. Really? Grantville, population 3,650, has “glitterati”?

Though Felix was pleased that so many fans showed up in Pennsylvania to watch Zippy race, his gut must have been churning. With all of those consecutive losses, it was always hard to get excited about the next race, and almost impossible to build upon something positive from the last. Plus, Zippy's eighty-seventh loss, his greatest race ever, in which he was repeatedly bumped and eventually nosed out at the wire by Black Rifle – that one still hurt. And yet here was his horse, staring at a much younger field, sashaying onto the track like a champ. Zippy Chippy at ten years of age was not only sound, he was irrepressible.

On this day, the dank, cold air chilled the bones of horses and helpers alike. The $10,000 purse attracted a higher brand of horses than Zippy was accustomed to running against, and it showed. Zippy's six-furlong trip around the dirt track was as unremarkable as the ride given him by his jockey, Pedro Carrasquel. The goofy gelding was outclassed by a bunch of four-year-olds – he finished last and nearly thirty-three lengths behind the winner, Bidakeno.

It was not the loss that boggled the minds of track officials but the 4–1 odds Zippy carried from the gate to the finish line. “The odds were a lot lower than they should have been,” said one track steward. “A lot of people bet with their heart and not their head.”

Race number eighty-nine had not been Zippy Chippy's lucky number. At least, not as lucky as it was for the late Anna Nicole Smith when she married a guy that age, thereby inheriting $475 million when he suddenly died a year later of – and here's where it gets interesting – old age!