Post by Cruisey on May 15, 2015 18:23:05 GMT -5
SPEAK EASY && JOHNNY GARNER
Workout for the Belmont Stakes
with partner Red Herring && Sammie Pickett
Carter leaned against the white railing of The Wire’s track watching his current workout, Barely Smokin, come to a close. The bay son of Barely A Moment was soon to hit G4, and was Carter’s Year Sixteen target for the Triple Crown. It was already decided that Speak Easy would not win the prestigious title, but it was undetermined if he would win the Belmont. Carter knew the black colt could win it; he was full of muscle, stamina, and heart. The twelve furlong race was pushing it, but there was not a doubt in the trainer’s mind that the horse could pull through.
Ultimate Revenge was the crowd’s current morning-line pick, with the Preakness and Derby winners close behind. The Intrepid Racing colt was seriously out for some ultimate revenge on the field, and that’s where Carter would have to prep Sonny the most. There was a chance he could lead wire-to-wire, but there was also a chance that he could be versatile. Either way, Carter had to prep Sonny the best he could before they could win. Youngstock trainer Jenna had come to watch Sonny’s last workout with Carter, and was standing on the rail with her arms crossed.
“Think he can do it?” She asked as Carter rubbed his chin in thought, watching the black horse being lead to the track. Horse and rider where silhouetted in the morning light, head turned and ears pricked towards the pair. Red and Sammie followed closely behind, keeping a safe distance between the colts.
“Of course he can do it, the question is will he do it.” Carter tapped his chin with his fingers, keeping his eyes directly on the colt. He looked good, almost too good. He would really have to fight if he wanted to beat Ultimate Revenge.
Before the jockeys headed out for the gates, they gathered around Carter to hear his instructions.
“Six furlongs; make Red lead for the first four. If Sonny feels threatened, push him forwards and make him fight for the lead. If he’s going to win the Belmont, he’s gotta do it with a fighting passion.” Both jockeys nodded, turning their horses away as they stepped onto the soft dirt.
Speak Easy was used to the track environment. He approached the gate with a quiet, but radiating, confidence, and Johnny rode him with no hint of concern. There was a certain spring in the colt's step, a light in his dark eyes, and a light in his jockey's eyes. Naturally, he wasn’t as perky like he was in the Kentucky workout, but nevertheless there was still some fire left in his belly for the Belmont. They were going do this; they were going to rock that race, and Sonny was zeroing in on the kill. The horses neither flinched nor panicked once they entered the gate. Sonny just waited, snorting and chewing the bit. He was happy, this was what he lived for. Red was fidgety beside him, but it was normal for the big red horse, and normal for his petit jockey who sat atop him. A moment later the gates crashed open, and off went the pair.
Six furlongs was a sprint to the router horse, but nothing Sonny hadn't handled. Johnny felt him pulling right from the get go, and he didn’t let the black horse get his way. Red thundered past them as they stayed in the inside quarter of the track. The black colt showed no signs of fatigue, and he really shouldn't; they were only three furlongs in. Red kept the lead at three and a half furlongs as they moved from a quarter from the rail, to nearly at the rail. If Sonny wanted to have a chance at coming in the top three, he would have to learn to pace himself to last the twelve long furlongs that lay ahead of him.
As soon as their four furlongs of fighting back were up, Johnny let Sonny fly, right then and there; this was one horse that could go barrelling down the track at full speed and still find the brain to listen to the jockey on top of him. Sonny was well-balanced, speedy but collected, and focused. Johnny could imagine him passing the imaginary field of horses, one after another falling behind him, his hooves tearing up the dirt; a sign of his speed and power. Red was furious that the younger horse blew past him and surged forwards, not letting the colt get the win so easily. That’s not what Carter wanted; it was not the objective of Sonny to win so easily. Johnny realized this, but continued to gallop on, very aware of the red horse surging on behind him. Sonny’s ears flickered back and forth, upset that he had competition; the competition that he thought he left in his dust. Within seconds, Red was galloping in sync with the black colt, which was seemingly more furious. Johnny smirked to himself as he watched Red beside them. Sammie looked very relaxed on top of the grade one champion, like she was just allowing Red to do whatever he wanted; and knowing Red, he wanted the win. Giving Sonny a light tap on the shoulder, Johnny asked the colt for more, seeing as their workout was quickly coming to a close. Something in the colt’s brain clicked and his legs started working faster and more efficiently. With one evil glare to his workout counterpart, Sonny flew past the six furlong marker with ease. He had it in him to do more, but Johnny brought him back from the gallop slowly. The black colt chewed on the bit eagerly, neck arched as they headed back for Carter, who was leaning on the rail.
"Good work," He praised the two jockeys. "Keep up a solid pace like that and we'll be all set for whatever that race is going to throw at us.” He nodded and gave Sonny a pat on his sweat-soaked shoulder. “You just wait and see, little Sonny. Just wait and see.”
Ultimate Revenge was the crowd’s current morning-line pick, with the Preakness and Derby winners close behind. The Intrepid Racing colt was seriously out for some ultimate revenge on the field, and that’s where Carter would have to prep Sonny the most. There was a chance he could lead wire-to-wire, but there was also a chance that he could be versatile. Either way, Carter had to prep Sonny the best he could before they could win. Youngstock trainer Jenna had come to watch Sonny’s last workout with Carter, and was standing on the rail with her arms crossed.
“Think he can do it?” She asked as Carter rubbed his chin in thought, watching the black horse being lead to the track. Horse and rider where silhouetted in the morning light, head turned and ears pricked towards the pair. Red and Sammie followed closely behind, keeping a safe distance between the colts.
“Of course he can do it, the question is will he do it.” Carter tapped his chin with his fingers, keeping his eyes directly on the colt. He looked good, almost too good. He would really have to fight if he wanted to beat Ultimate Revenge.
Before the jockeys headed out for the gates, they gathered around Carter to hear his instructions.
“Six furlongs; make Red lead for the first four. If Sonny feels threatened, push him forwards and make him fight for the lead. If he’s going to win the Belmont, he’s gotta do it with a fighting passion.” Both jockeys nodded, turning their horses away as they stepped onto the soft dirt.
Speak Easy was used to the track environment. He approached the gate with a quiet, but radiating, confidence, and Johnny rode him with no hint of concern. There was a certain spring in the colt's step, a light in his dark eyes, and a light in his jockey's eyes. Naturally, he wasn’t as perky like he was in the Kentucky workout, but nevertheless there was still some fire left in his belly for the Belmont. They were going do this; they were going to rock that race, and Sonny was zeroing in on the kill. The horses neither flinched nor panicked once they entered the gate. Sonny just waited, snorting and chewing the bit. He was happy, this was what he lived for. Red was fidgety beside him, but it was normal for the big red horse, and normal for his petit jockey who sat atop him. A moment later the gates crashed open, and off went the pair.
Six furlongs was a sprint to the router horse, but nothing Sonny hadn't handled. Johnny felt him pulling right from the get go, and he didn’t let the black horse get his way. Red thundered past them as they stayed in the inside quarter of the track. The black colt showed no signs of fatigue, and he really shouldn't; they were only three furlongs in. Red kept the lead at three and a half furlongs as they moved from a quarter from the rail, to nearly at the rail. If Sonny wanted to have a chance at coming in the top three, he would have to learn to pace himself to last the twelve long furlongs that lay ahead of him.
As soon as their four furlongs of fighting back were up, Johnny let Sonny fly, right then and there; this was one horse that could go barrelling down the track at full speed and still find the brain to listen to the jockey on top of him. Sonny was well-balanced, speedy but collected, and focused. Johnny could imagine him passing the imaginary field of horses, one after another falling behind him, his hooves tearing up the dirt; a sign of his speed and power. Red was furious that the younger horse blew past him and surged forwards, not letting the colt get the win so easily. That’s not what Carter wanted; it was not the objective of Sonny to win so easily. Johnny realized this, but continued to gallop on, very aware of the red horse surging on behind him. Sonny’s ears flickered back and forth, upset that he had competition; the competition that he thought he left in his dust. Within seconds, Red was galloping in sync with the black colt, which was seemingly more furious. Johnny smirked to himself as he watched Red beside them. Sammie looked very relaxed on top of the grade one champion, like she was just allowing Red to do whatever he wanted; and knowing Red, he wanted the win. Giving Sonny a light tap on the shoulder, Johnny asked the colt for more, seeing as their workout was quickly coming to a close. Something in the colt’s brain clicked and his legs started working faster and more efficiently. With one evil glare to his workout counterpart, Sonny flew past the six furlong marker with ease. He had it in him to do more, but Johnny brought him back from the gallop slowly. The black colt chewed on the bit eagerly, neck arched as they headed back for Carter, who was leaning on the rail.
"Good work," He praised the two jockeys. "Keep up a solid pace like that and we'll be all set for whatever that race is going to throw at us.” He nodded and gave Sonny a pat on his sweat-soaked shoulder. “You just wait and see, little Sonny. Just wait and see.”
