Raja, Story of a Racehorse (6 page)

“Annapurna won wire to wire and I was second,” Max glowed after his first race a week later, his eyes sparkling, words pouring out and running away with him. “Oh Raja, you'll LOVE it. It was so much fun, so different than I expected. Shad, did you see that grey, parrot-mouthed pain in the neck, Sanchez, trying to come up my inside? Dumb idea — I shut him down quick. No one gets up my inside.”

Even Shaddy was abuzz from his fifth place finish.

“Raja's entered in the maiden race tomorrow,” I heard Alex tell Chris.

A crisp breeze blew in a glorious morning, all blue and green and red and white, the colors of Saratoga. Sparrows perched on the rafters, darting in and out of the shed row, watching for spilled grain as we ate breakfast. Even the little routines of the morning seemed grand and filled with significance.

Today is race day!

It was a week after Max and Shaddy's race and now it was my turn.

“Knock ‘em dead, buddy,” Max called as I left to go to the pre-race barn.

“Good luck, my friend,” Shaddy echoed. RB smiled and nodded.

From the pre-race barn I heard the announcer rapidly calling each race and saw the runners returning, steam whirling and wisping off their glistening bodies as they jigged and danced. Walking around my stall, I shivered in anticipation, pawing the ground until I had dug a hole through the straw in the dirt floor. Every triumphant note of the buglers' “Call to the Post” before each race stirred my hammering heart:

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

Chris led me along a narrow path through a blur of people and colors and food smells until we reached an enclosure shaded by big maple trees.

Let's go, go go! It's time for RACING!

I was so excited, I thought I would explode. I stepped out with my fancy walk, knowing that everyone was looking at me. Alex, now in a suit, wearing a yellow tie, was speaking with a tall woman wearing a yellow scarf and large sunglasses. The curve of her stance seemed familiar.

Is it?

Then I smelled it.

Gardenias and peppermint!

My heart skipped a beat. She reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, a row of colored bangles catching the sunlight in a familiar gesture. As she turned and caught my eye, Princess Ayesha ran to me, trailing photographers. She smiled and patted me, her smoky eyes shining. She seemed so mature, more dignified. I hadn't seen her for two years. She whispered in my ear as her warm hands traced the length of my neck,

“Raja, I missed you so much. I'm so happy to be back in the United States and especially to see you. You look wonderful — all grown up! You can do it, I know it.” She looked me in the eye. “You are the most perfect thing in the universe and I love you.”

I barely noticed the tiny saddle, tight girth and even tighter overgirth when Alex saddled me. All I could think of was how I was going to make Princess Ayesha proud.

I am Raja! Destined for glory.

“Riders up,” came the call from an official-looking man. Willie, my jockey, jumped lightly up, with a helping hand under his ankle from Alex, then settled easily onto my back. Then he stood up in his stirrups to test the girths and tied a knot in his reins. Chris led us around and around the paddock, whispering words of encouragement to me, while snippets of conversation floated over to us. I knew that people were admiring me.

“Look at number five, Raja. He's stunning.”

“He's my pick. Breeding's impeccable. Class all the way.”

We followed the outriders onto the track, past the big stands filled with people cheering and shouting and the announcer calling our names one by one.

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

“Go number five!”

“Bring it home, baby.”

I couldn't help but jig all the way to the start.

It's time!

My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly hear the crowd. Into the gate, then click as the door was secured. Willie's blood was up, too. I could feel it as he took a deep breath. I looked at the track, poised to go.

Let's go. Let's go.

A reassuring pat from Willie as he gathered the reins into his hold. I took a deep breath.

BRRING! We're off.

Quickly away from the gate, I established myself on the inside rail, sitting fourth.

Ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum.

The sound of thundering hooves and jockeys yelling at each other was deafening. As we passed the stands the first time, fragments of sound from the announcer excitedly calling the race drifted into my ears.

“It's Ice Bullet in front by five, Shimmer Shimmer second, with Natty Boh third.”

Thwack, thwack. Clods of hard dirt thrown up by the horse in front of me flew into my face as we ran as a pack, careening around the turn, trying to save ground, bumping and jostling, inches away from each other.

The scrappy, physical, closeness of it all surprised me. Hindquarters in front of me, rising and falling, sharp hooves inches from my legs; and the horse next to me, running head and head, stride for stride, pushing me closer and closer to the rail. We were a moving bubble of churning hooves, clods of dirt, and flying manes, with motionless jockeys hovering atop straining muscles, opening and closing strides as one.

The pace was quicker than our daily gallops, but I felt good and kept an even rhythm to my strides. It all went by so fast, the turns were coming up quickly, the red-and-white striped quarter-mile poles flashed by in a blur; there was hardly time to think.

Coming around the final turn toward the homestretch, the race suddenly turned frantic. Everyone was bumping and jostling, trying to get to the lead. Jockeys urged their horses on, suddenly riding harder and going to the whip. Willie took a shorter hold and started to ask me to go, his hands and legs in rhythm with my longer and longer strides. I knew what to do.

I started to run.

The roar of the crowd filled my ears. I could hear the announcer's excited call, “And it's Shimmer Shimmer by two lengths, Ice Bullet on the outside. Here comes Raja. Raja is making up ground!”

Willie steered me to a gap that had opened up in the pack and asked me again.

“Let's go. Let's go. It's time to go,” his hands and body cried. We burst through. I passed the third horse, then the second horse, Ice Bullet. Coming head and head with the leader, Shimmer Shimmer, I looked him in the eye. Then I turned on “the afterburners.”

Everything except the track ahead of us disappeared.

“Here comes Raja. Raja moving up on the outside to take the lead. Raja! Raja, followed by Ice Bullet, Shimmer Shimmer, and Natty Boh in fourth. Raja, by one, now two. Raja wins today!”

We passed under the wire with eight lengths between us and the next horse.

“Good boy, Raja!”

Willie stood up in his stirrups to slow me down and gave me a big pat on the neck. The roar of the crowd overwhelmed me as we jogged back to the stands. Princess Ayesha thanked Willie and hugged me again and again. “Raja, I knew you could do it. What a good boy!”

Victory! What a glorious feeling. I am Raja, destined for glory!

Winning was the best feeling imaginable. I jigged all the way back to the barn.

“I knew you could do it,” Max confided in me that night. “Of all of us, you're the one who will really make a mark. I know that you can beat Annapurna.”

When the Saratoga meet ended and horses began to leave, the electricity in the air faded, leaving us feeling a little sleepy. The crisp September wind whispered of the coming winter as it rattled the yellow-tinged maple leaves. A group of Canada geese came in for a few days, circling the pond in the center of the track with a loud, a-hink-a-honk, a-hink-a-honk, then claiming it with a dramatic, feet first splash landing.

“Go south. Hurry, winter's coming,” they seemed to cry.

September, Belmont Park, New York

Grey, that's Belmont for you. No flower baskets, shade trees, or ladies with colorful dresses walking around the stable yard. Grey skies, grey backstretch, grey people, even the other horses looked a little grey after Saratoga.

“You and Max are entered in the Champagne Stakes, a Grade 1 Stakes race,” RB told me. “It's a big step up from a maiden race, but Alex thinks you're up to it. You know, you're the favorite. It's because of your win at Saratoga.”

Early in the morning the day of the race, I was eating my hay and resting in my stall trying to stay calm, when I smelled it.

Gardenias and peppermint!

I quickly popped my head over my stall door, as a deep nicker escaped me.

“Raja, there you are, my beautiful.” Princess Ayesha walked to my stall, gently kissed my nose and scratched the tickly spot above my eyes, feeding me a peppermint as I stretched toward her. She flicked her long black hair out of her face, her row of colored glass bangles catching the sunlight, bringing a splash of color to Belmont.

“I fooled the paparazzi so that I could come and see you. They think I'm getting my hair done, but I sent my assistant, dressed as me, and snuck out the Plaza Hotel kitchen. It was a jail break! Bob's here, too — he drove me out from the city.”

She smiled triumphantly, a spark of rebellion in her dark smoky eyes. She likes to be independent, too, I thought, but her life is controlled by others, just like mine.

We're more alike than I had realized.

I was so happy to see her. I contentedly munched some hay, all nerves gone.

Then it was time to go to the paddock.

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

I danced all the way to the start, relaxed, confident, floating on air.

BRRING! We're off!

RB was right. This race was a big step up. The pace was quick and every horse in the race was talented, competitive, and out to win. No one was going to let others pass them willingly. I broke out of the gate well, but for the first half of the race, I felt boxed in the middle of the pack. Helpless, I bore it, thundering along with the others.

I can't do anything. I want to go faster but I can't get around the others.