POST PARADE
OCTOBER 28, 2014
The Breeders’ Cup through the eyes of a child
by Vance Hanson
The Breeders’ Cup was inaugurated 30 years ago this month, but for those of
us with slightly less gray on our temples, the first memories of racing’s
showcase day would come a little later.
Fast forward two years to 1986, and the grade-school version of me was just
starting to get his toes wet following the sport and, ahem, betting. My father,
an immediate race tracker when Canterbury Downs opened the previous year, would
kindly oblige my whims with token $2 wagers on selections that sometimes
involved nothing more than liking a horse’s name. We all start somewhere.
Memories are fuzzy, but it seems that through the course of that season I
subconsciously absorbed bits and pieces of information on some of the nation’s
top horses while browsing through my father’s old programs and occasionally
watching racing broadcasts with him. I don’t know how else to explain the fact
that, after trick-or-treating on Halloween night, I glanced at the next day’s
Breeders’ Cup fields and swiftly recognized a horse in each race for my father
to back on my behalf.
Santa Anita was a first-time host for that third Breeders’ Cup, and back then
the first race was the Juvenile. I don’t recall why I liked Gulch other than he
was the second choice in the morning line and had the familiar, potent combo of
trainer LeRoy Jolley and jockey Angel Cordero Jr. in his corner. In hindsight,
it wasn’t a bad pick. Gulch had won his first five races, four of which were
graded stakes, before finishing second to Juvenile favorite Capote in the
Norfolk.
Gulch couldn’t catch Capote in the Breeders’ Cup, either, over a track biased
toward early speed. Gulch wound up fifth in a field that also included Alysheba,
Bet Twice, Polish Navy and Demons Begone. In other words, the winners of the
1987 Kentucky Derby, Preakness, Belmont, Haskell Invitational, Super Derby, Met
Mile, Wood Memorial, Woodward and Arkansas Derby were in that field. They
don’t make Breeders’ Cup Juveniles like they used to.
Gulch, who would eventually earn Breeders’ Cup glory in the 1988 Sprint, is
virtually the lone remaining survivor of that fabulous crop. He’s been a
neighbor of mine for a while, living a mile or so down the road from me at Old
Friends Farm in Georgetown, Kentucky. Who would have believed, 28 years later,
my first ever Breeders’ Cup pick and I would be so close?
My Juvenile Fillies selection, Zero Minus, was more of a sentimental choice
having broken her maiden and winning a small stakes at Canterbury that summer
for future Hall of Fame trainer Carl Nafzger. She also had Canterbury’s leading
jockey that year, Hall of Famer Sandy Hawley, on her back. Unbeknownst to me at
the time, she had later achieved something more notable by winning the
Alcibiades at Keeneland, but she fared no better than a distant seventh behind
Brave Raj in the Juvenile Fillies.
Canterbury-related sentimentality would have been better served in the next
race, the Sprint. Smile, the 1985 Sprint runner-up, was owned by Minneapolis
resident Frances Genter and had won the $150,000 Canterbury Cup in July. But how
could I go against odds-on speedball Groovy, who I remembered from his
pace-setting tactics in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness and could surely outrun
anything at a much shorter six-furlong trip?
In the event Groovy was flat leaving the gate, and over that track that was a
death sentence. D. Wayne Lukas’ filly Pine Tree Lane broke on top, with the
rail-hugging Smile in close pursuit. The latter ultimately put her away in deep
stretch at odds of 11-1, while Groovy languished in fourth. As great a sprinter
as he was, Groovy for some reason always had difficulty out-breaking fillies in
the Breeders’ Cup.
My pari-mutuel fortunes turned around in the next three races. Palace Music,
who I knew had run well in the Mile the previous year, was my pick to make
amends in the first turf race of the day. I didn’t win much, but at least I
cashed, when the future sire of Cigar ran a terrific second at odds of 7-2.
Shuffled back early from post 1, Palace Music was last of 14 with a half-mile
to go. Forced to make a ridiculously wide rally under Gary Stevens, the chestnut
closed like a freight train but fell a frustrating head short of longshot French
sprinter Last Tycoon. If memory serves, Palace Music’s trainer Charlie
Whittingham put it succinctly to NBC after the race: “They don’t make it a mile
and a jump.”
The Distaff was a no-brainer. Even I was quite familiar with the brilliance
of Lady’s Secret, and there was nothing to do but accept the short price and
enjoy the procession from the eventual Horse of the Year, both of which I did.
The Turf was undoubtedly the highlight of my day. I knew nothing about
European sensation and odds-on favorite Dancing Brave, but had watched the two
leading American contenders on television earlier in the year. The mare
Estrapade had won for fun in the Arlington Million, while the up-and-coming
three-year-old Manila had caught my eye winning the United Nations Handicap and
Ballantine’s Scotch Classic against older horses.
Seeking value for perhaps the first time in my horse-playing life, I went
with the longer-priced Manila, who had to overcome traffic in deep stretch to
overtake Theatrical in the final strides with a whip-less Jose Santos
hand-urging him to victory.
Turkoman, a long-striding son of Alydar, was the slight favorite over
Precisionist in the Classic, and having watched Turkoman get the better of that
rival in the 1 1/4-mile Marlboro Cup, was my pick to do so again. Unfortunately,
Turkoman’s style of running was not conducive to winning over the track as it
was playing. Ridden by Pat Day for the first time, he could not overcome a
16-length deficit and finished second to Skywalker, who had enjoyed a perfect
trip tracking a fast pace from third and taking what would be an insurmountable
lead around the far turn.
As can be gleaned from these recollections, my first Breeders’ Cup was quite
a memorable one for me. But there’s an asterisk. Dejected by Gulch’s no-show,
and naturally having the attention span of someone my age, I had turned off the
TV after the Juvenile and went about my day. It was only after my father
returned home from watching the Breeders’ Cup simulcast at Canterbury that I
found out the rest of the results — and about my positive ROI.
Again, memories are hazy, but I like to think what happened on November 1,
1986 ignited what was already a simmering passion. At the very least, the events
of that day convinced me that this was a hobby worth pursuing more seriously.
Simply put, it was fun.
As was customary, my father had videotaped the entire four-hour NBC broadcast
of that Breeders’ Cup. I watched and re-watched that tape countless times that
winter, acquainting myself with the sport’s leading horses, owners, trainers
and jockeys. I familiarized myself with the names of the top racetracks and
graded stakes, and probably a little bit about pedigree and breeding. For a
rookie, it was an incredibly useful tool, among many, in aiding my racing
education.
For three decades, the Breeders’ Cup has changed the lives of many of those
fortunate enough to have participated in it. It also changed, long ago, the life
of at least one young spectator.