Post by Deleted on Jan 9, 2014 22:51:59 GMT -5
Majestic Hero, West Virginia Derby Y14
“It would have been nice to see you guys win,” Marion spoke cautiously, not at all disappointed as she approached Ella, who brushed the sloping contours of Jester’s muscular left shoulder. She had been hovering with the brush at the same area of coat for what seemed like forever, her mind lost in thought as she tried so hard to think of what tactics could help the colt to win in The West Virginia Derby. She smiled lightly at her mother, green gaze heavy with thought as she would sigh. It was true, Jester had been so close to taking out the win, and yet The Devil’s Hourglass had proven to reign supreme. But it was his first start to the season, surely after his week break, he would pummel the field and show the previously victorious filly that he could out-do her? It was positive thinking, there was no room for anything less as Ella watched the quirky colt gnawing at the wooden railing he was tied to.
He was as much a beast in body as he was in speed, there was not a single dip to the contours of his haunches; his hind drive technique obvious as the apple-shaped muscles would bend and weave so perfectly over his skeleton. His shoulders held an admirable slope, angled to a perfection that screamed speed and muscular power like no other. Conformation wise, he was everything you wanted in a galloper, even the tapered shape from his toe to his fetlock was enough to suggest a sturdy runner. His cannons long, but thick, supporting his brawly body and size to a tee. He was a machine, absolutely made to win and no less. Every single inch of his being was admirable, healthy, primed. This was simply not a structure of creature you came across any old day; he was, quite simply, magnificent.
Oh to be upon a monster! Every metre that passed was punched with a power incomprehensible, his black-washed forelimbs pushing out with a strength so extreme it was forcing Ella in and out of the saddle at involuntary frequencies. Boy oh boy, it was so addicting to be upon his back, and yet something about his violent striding was almost terrifying. So easily the creature could explode into fits of thrill, begin to bounce and wind his body about manically; Ella didn’t even want to imagine the consequences. But usually, as long as he had something to think about, Jester was focused. His canter was only move extreme, and the transition into it even more so! His front end would lurch upwards and downwards as he would crane his neck, begging to be released. Hind end drumming with the determination to push forwards.
He was a stalker at heart and mind, and he was viciously relentless in his endeavours to chase, to hunt. He was a predator on the track, hungry and craving. And although his second place was impressive, it was certainly not the best he could do! After 4 furlongs of maintained canter, and a small amount of arguing from Jester, Ella would ready herself for the transition from canter to gallop. But the blood bay monster had read her mind, and with a typically violent lurch, dragging his reins through the hands of his rider with an ambitious groaning of power-drive, he would leap into that gallop he was so known for. She had been pulled forward, had completely lost her left rein as her arm was sent sprawled to the crest of his neck for balance, desperately attempting to refind her purchase upon his mouth.
But even in his jockey’s misfortune Jester had remained on course, eyes on the prize as he continued to thrum powerful stilts beneath him at a speed incomparable. Ella had regathered herself, embarrassed and hopeful that nobody had seen her dilemma. But in all honesty, you could never understand his transitions and their power until you had ridden them yourself. She had learnt from that lesson, and she was now well aware of making sure it didn’t happen again. Cool spring wind whipped at the young adults cheeks, an evening sky beginning to close above them in a muffled blanket of gold and pink. Perfect. Beneath her, galloped a force to be reckoned with, and after 2 furlongs of sprinting she would begin to ease the bay colt back to a trot. He could win, she was absolutely sure of it!
