Post by Rendezvous on Oct 9, 2015 23:48:24 GMT -5
KCRS STABLE2HORSE
ft. Mardi Gras, Escape Artist, Rise Me Gold, Key West
Mardi Gras
Seventeen hands of pure horse, that was what could describe Mardi Gras. She was the 'dark horse' of KC Racing Stables. The mare had been acquired from North Diamond Manor already edging into her fourth year of racing. Her wins included multiple stakes wins, earning about $445,000 up to this day. Kimberly Kenny, the owner of KCRS, watched with admiration as Justin McKinney rode the mare down the dirt track, the mare seemingly enjoying herself the entire time.
One could say she was a bit of a favorite for the beginner racehorse owner. The horse had matured into a fine horse and at her age, some would consider retiring her to broodmare, but Kimberly saw the fire in that mare's eyes. She knew that Mardi still wanted to run to her heart's content. The evidence was right in front of anyone who could see the mare tearing up the dirt track today. The mare could run on both surfaces and handle long distances, she was perfect, at least to Kimberly. Although not much, the mare had been entered in one race so far under the new ownership, and she snagged first place seemingly easily. The mare would end Year Fifteen with a race in the Conferration Stakes. Mardi Gras seemed to prefer Stakes races, and she would be allowed to stay there for long as she held herself correctly.
The time was captured as the mare crossed the makeshift finish line and Kimberly marked the horse's times down in a fresh notebook. Mardi was usually consistent, today was no different. "Bring her back to me Justin." She called over as the mare went into the run-down before being turned by her jockey and led back towards the entrance. "Such a wonderful lady Mardi, great job." She praised the mare, rubbing the velvety grey nose of the horse. "How'd we do?" Asked Justin McKinney, "Excellent, like always." Came the racehorse owner's response.
Mardi Gras bobbed her head eagerly, pawing the dirt underhoof. "We've got to make sure she's well rested and up to form come January, after the Conferration Stakes this Winter, she'll get about a week off before January. Let's make next year one they won't forget, right Mardi?" With another pat on the horse's blaze, Kim allowed the jockey to dismount before leading the mare personally back towards the barn.
Escape Artist
Yet another horse who had been pushed under the rug much too soon. Two year old Escape Artist, or fondly dubbed Houdini, was one of two sprinters at KCRS, the latter was a upcoming yearling filly who would be hitting prospects come late Year Sixteen. Now Houndi was a horse who was a one race wonder, he didn't seem to have the odds in his favor.
He was a flashy horse with tons of chrome, it almost seemed like looks were all he had going for him. He was quick on his feet, but apparently he wasn't cut out for the track. Yet, like with Mardi Gras, Kimberly wasn't going to count him out just yet and took him in when he was offered to her a few weeks ago. With a couple of good workouts and probably a little much spoiling (hey horses need encouragement too), Kimberly entered him in the End Of Year Juvenile Turf Sprint on the GHF track. The jockey she had assigned to the horse complained up and down about how the horse didn't stand a chance against popular fillies Melodious and Sugar Demon, horses that were a higher grade than himself. "Just let him stay there, it's not like he has a reputation to lose." And the jockey couldn't complain because he knew she was right.
By some miracle, the horse overpowered both G4 and G3 fillies as if he wasn't a Grade 5 himself, as though he suddenly matured a bit overnight without warning. "Let him do what he wants to do on the track. He seems to know what he's doing." She suggested after being blown away by the two year old's performance on the track. So now here he was on his home track rushing out of the starting gate. Samson Cooper didn't jar him on, didn't pull him back, no he let the horse move on his own, he himself simply acting as a guide in case the horse made a wrong move. The flashy bay colt eased himself down the track, moving like a slow locomotive before suddenly he started chugging, and chugging, and chugging some more. He became like a freight train out of nowhere and surged ahead as though his back hooves had suddenly been lit on fire. He was a horse that liked to keep everyone on their toes, he was unpredictable, a wild card. Hard to predict, hard to control, but the young horse had a good head on his shoulders and seemed like he knew what he was doing. "Trust in him." Kimberly suggested as the bay colt was brought back around, sweat lathering up onto his sleek frame. "Don't hinder him, he acts like he knows what he's doing. Sly devil." She smiled at the colt who had his tongue lolled out the corner of his mouth, a peeve that seemed to be picked up after arriving at the stable. "Hey, if that's what makes him run like that I'm not complaining." The stableowner laughed, her laughter soon being joined by the jockey before being stopped by the horse snorting and stamping in disapproval.
Key West
He was the vary definition of handsome on four, long slender legs. During his prospect season, when KCRS finally got their hands on him, he didn't do much racing on tracks. The colt raced on two solid tracks, landing a solid third place and falling short in the first race in fifth place. Being new to the racing industry, Kimberly didn't have much to offer her horses, ending with not so superb wins like most of the other stables. Coming into Year 16 with a fresh mind has helped her gain a new perspective on the king's sport.
Ralph Kipp, a scrawny man who was shorter than most jockeys, was the colt's designated jockey. He was well versed in the racing industry and often offered Kimberly a couple of good pointers, as the jockey's brother was a racehorse trainer at a different stable. The man seemed to have a good relationship with the colt, often visiting his stall after quick runs on the track to shower him with treats and affection. Today would be no different as the horse pranced towards the dirt track, his ears flicking and his tail swishing. Today Kimberly wouldn't be playing the role of racehorse trainer, no today a man in his mid 30s by the name of Liam Scott would be taking up this role. The man seemed like he knew his horses so now he'd be entrusted with the faith of how the horses at KCRS were trained while Kimberly would oversee the purchasing, selling and breeding of the horses and occasionally watch her horses perform in training.
The colt was lined up effortlessly into the starting gate, seemingly taking interest in some invisible object slightly to the left of him. While Liam viewed the time on his golden stopwatch, he shifted his gaze when the bell sounded and the colt burst from the gates, his hindquarters propelling him forward. This was a horse that liked to stay in the middle of the pack and ease his way into the front, he wasn't one to try and aggressively make his way towards the front of the pack. Key West's racing style could be described like the strike of a snake, he'd coax along until he was jarred just enough to be reminded that he was being surrounded, then he'd gradually move ahead one horse at a time until he made contact with the leader.
With no horses on the field with him, this couldn't be demonstrated. It was evident, however, in the way he was running. The horse eased his way around the bend, staying away from the inside of the track but never straying close to the outside. His pace was even, his breath steady as his pace began to quicken, his mindset quickly changing gears as he headed a few lengths away from the stretch. Whatever invisible horses he was imagining, he would be surpassing them now and surging ahead, his legs stretch out and reaching for whatever ground they could cover. Nose flaring, ears alert the bay colt streaked across the finish line, running a few lengths ahead before finally being slowed down and reverted to a lumbering energetic canter. It was a good time to finish at for a fresh minded coming two year old, but would he be strong enough to compete with the other hard set youngsters?
ft. Mardi Gras, Escape Artist, Rise Me Gold, Key West
Mardi Gras
Seventeen hands of pure horse, that was what could describe Mardi Gras. She was the 'dark horse' of KC Racing Stables. The mare had been acquired from North Diamond Manor already edging into her fourth year of racing. Her wins included multiple stakes wins, earning about $445,000 up to this day. Kimberly Kenny, the owner of KCRS, watched with admiration as Justin McKinney rode the mare down the dirt track, the mare seemingly enjoying herself the entire time.
One could say she was a bit of a favorite for the beginner racehorse owner. The horse had matured into a fine horse and at her age, some would consider retiring her to broodmare, but Kimberly saw the fire in that mare's eyes. She knew that Mardi still wanted to run to her heart's content. The evidence was right in front of anyone who could see the mare tearing up the dirt track today. The mare could run on both surfaces and handle long distances, she was perfect, at least to Kimberly. Although not much, the mare had been entered in one race so far under the new ownership, and she snagged first place seemingly easily. The mare would end Year Fifteen with a race in the Conferration Stakes. Mardi Gras seemed to prefer Stakes races, and she would be allowed to stay there for long as she held herself correctly.
The time was captured as the mare crossed the makeshift finish line and Kimberly marked the horse's times down in a fresh notebook. Mardi was usually consistent, today was no different. "Bring her back to me Justin." She called over as the mare went into the run-down before being turned by her jockey and led back towards the entrance. "Such a wonderful lady Mardi, great job." She praised the mare, rubbing the velvety grey nose of the horse. "How'd we do?" Asked Justin McKinney, "Excellent, like always." Came the racehorse owner's response.
Mardi Gras bobbed her head eagerly, pawing the dirt underhoof. "We've got to make sure she's well rested and up to form come January, after the Conferration Stakes this Winter, she'll get about a week off before January. Let's make next year one they won't forget, right Mardi?" With another pat on the horse's blaze, Kim allowed the jockey to dismount before leading the mare personally back towards the barn.
Escape Artist
Yet another horse who had been pushed under the rug much too soon. Two year old Escape Artist, or fondly dubbed Houdini, was one of two sprinters at KCRS, the latter was a upcoming yearling filly who would be hitting prospects come late Year Sixteen. Now Houndi was a horse who was a one race wonder, he didn't seem to have the odds in his favor.
He was a flashy horse with tons of chrome, it almost seemed like looks were all he had going for him. He was quick on his feet, but apparently he wasn't cut out for the track. Yet, like with Mardi Gras, Kimberly wasn't going to count him out just yet and took him in when he was offered to her a few weeks ago. With a couple of good workouts and probably a little much spoiling (hey horses need encouragement too), Kimberly entered him in the End Of Year Juvenile Turf Sprint on the GHF track. The jockey she had assigned to the horse complained up and down about how the horse didn't stand a chance against popular fillies Melodious and Sugar Demon, horses that were a higher grade than himself. "Just let him stay there, it's not like he has a reputation to lose." And the jockey couldn't complain because he knew she was right.
By some miracle, the horse overpowered both G4 and G3 fillies as if he wasn't a Grade 5 himself, as though he suddenly matured a bit overnight without warning. "Let him do what he wants to do on the track. He seems to know what he's doing." She suggested after being blown away by the two year old's performance on the track. So now here he was on his home track rushing out of the starting gate. Samson Cooper didn't jar him on, didn't pull him back, no he let the horse move on his own, he himself simply acting as a guide in case the horse made a wrong move. The flashy bay colt eased himself down the track, moving like a slow locomotive before suddenly he started chugging, and chugging, and chugging some more. He became like a freight train out of nowhere and surged ahead as though his back hooves had suddenly been lit on fire. He was a horse that liked to keep everyone on their toes, he was unpredictable, a wild card. Hard to predict, hard to control, but the young horse had a good head on his shoulders and seemed like he knew what he was doing. "Trust in him." Kimberly suggested as the bay colt was brought back around, sweat lathering up onto his sleek frame. "Don't hinder him, he acts like he knows what he's doing. Sly devil." She smiled at the colt who had his tongue lolled out the corner of his mouth, a peeve that seemed to be picked up after arriving at the stable. "Hey, if that's what makes him run like that I'm not complaining." The stableowner laughed, her laughter soon being joined by the jockey before being stopped by the horse snorting and stamping in disapproval.
Key West
He was the vary definition of handsome on four, long slender legs. During his prospect season, when KCRS finally got their hands on him, he didn't do much racing on tracks. The colt raced on two solid tracks, landing a solid third place and falling short in the first race in fifth place. Being new to the racing industry, Kimberly didn't have much to offer her horses, ending with not so superb wins like most of the other stables. Coming into Year 16 with a fresh mind has helped her gain a new perspective on the king's sport.
Ralph Kipp, a scrawny man who was shorter than most jockeys, was the colt's designated jockey. He was well versed in the racing industry and often offered Kimberly a couple of good pointers, as the jockey's brother was a racehorse trainer at a different stable. The man seemed to have a good relationship with the colt, often visiting his stall after quick runs on the track to shower him with treats and affection. Today would be no different as the horse pranced towards the dirt track, his ears flicking and his tail swishing. Today Kimberly wouldn't be playing the role of racehorse trainer, no today a man in his mid 30s by the name of Liam Scott would be taking up this role. The man seemed like he knew his horses so now he'd be entrusted with the faith of how the horses at KCRS were trained while Kimberly would oversee the purchasing, selling and breeding of the horses and occasionally watch her horses perform in training.
The colt was lined up effortlessly into the starting gate, seemingly taking interest in some invisible object slightly to the left of him. While Liam viewed the time on his golden stopwatch, he shifted his gaze when the bell sounded and the colt burst from the gates, his hindquarters propelling him forward. This was a horse that liked to stay in the middle of the pack and ease his way into the front, he wasn't one to try and aggressively make his way towards the front of the pack. Key West's racing style could be described like the strike of a snake, he'd coax along until he was jarred just enough to be reminded that he was being surrounded, then he'd gradually move ahead one horse at a time until he made contact with the leader.
With no horses on the field with him, this couldn't be demonstrated. It was evident, however, in the way he was running. The horse eased his way around the bend, staying away from the inside of the track but never straying close to the outside. His pace was even, his breath steady as his pace began to quicken, his mindset quickly changing gears as he headed a few lengths away from the stretch. Whatever invisible horses he was imagining, he would be surpassing them now and surging ahead, his legs stretch out and reaching for whatever ground they could cover. Nose flaring, ears alert the bay colt streaked across the finish line, running a few lengths ahead before finally being slowed down and reverted to a lumbering energetic canter. It was a good time to finish at for a fresh minded coming two year old, but would he be strong enough to compete with the other hard set youngsters?
