Post by Kenren on Aug 21, 2015 18:19:19 GMT -5
Aphrodite's Chant & Clarimonde Tusaint for the Just A Trot Futurity
Much in the way of Santana's Legend, Aphrodite's Chant was a filly that had been pretty heavily overlooked in her younger years. Her sire was grade four, and her dam had won but one race, though that win did happen to come in the Seaspray Cup. However, unlike Santana's Legend, there was a look and air about her that belied her seemingly weak pedigree. She moved with utmost confidence, long-strided and pleasing to the eye, and had a drive to kill on the racetrack. She had proven her worth over and over, demolishing massive fields in both undercards and HOTYs against a very strong division. Even in such fields, she'd still managed to stay in the money every time. She was incredibly consistent and talented, traits that made her click very well with her jockey. Clarimonde, too, was one of the best and knew it thoroughly. His confidence strongly matched the drive of the powerful grey filly, and their record reflected that process.
It had been a no-brainer for Clarimonde to insist the filly run in the Just A Trot. While Cole tended toward entering the filly in as many filly races as he could, she'd more than proven she could beat the colts as well. And so, he agreed. After all, she was one of their most accomplished two-year-olds and was sitting on the verge of grade three - with the competition she'd been keeping, that was a feat in and of itself. The filly was coming off of a very strong win against four other fillies, and was having this work to keep sharpened to a razor edge. She hardly needed it, but it was good to keep her on her toes. She was going a half mile, at a good-but-not-mindblowing pace. They wanted to keep some frustrated reserve in the tank for her to let loose with. Chance was being escorted to the track by Minske on the stable's track pony, Panther. However, he let her off right at the gap - while she was a huge handful in front of a crowd, things were mild enough that morning that she wouldn't get too upset being alone. True to form, the prancing grey was alert but not overly excited as her rider moved her into a more lengthened trot. Every once in awhile a horse would blow down the inside for their work and she'd get riled, throwing up her head trying to turn around and give chase. Clarimonde was comfortable with both the saddle and her antics, though, and he always got her back on the right track again. Despite her warm-up antics, she was bright and alert and ready to go when Clarimonde turned her to the inside of the track. He let her canter as they approached the rail, then eased out the reins on her mouth and she responded explosively and immediately. Head bobbing with the force of the acceleration, tail flagged behind her, the filly took a lot of muscle from her rider to keep her at the reasonable pace he was looking for.
She ripped around the turn, and Clarimonde could feel the moment her attention locked onto a pair of riders about two furlongs ahead of them. They were only doing a maintenance gallop, but Chance didn't care about their speed - she only knew she wanted to catch them. Clarimonde, loathe not to reward her dominant behavior, gave her a bit more slack to work with and the filly stretched out even more, seeming to float over the dirt as she gained on them. In the last furlong, when he'd normally really let her dig in, he refrained. He could feel the frustration in every line of her body - the other horses were so close - but he wanted this determined drive to be even more pronounced during the race. He pulled her up, deciding against the gallop out for the same reason. He knew he'd made the right decision when they were back at the gap and Chance swung her head around to him, ears pinned. Yes, she was ready to put up one hell of a fight in her upcoming trial.
It had been a no-brainer for Clarimonde to insist the filly run in the Just A Trot. While Cole tended toward entering the filly in as many filly races as he could, she'd more than proven she could beat the colts as well. And so, he agreed. After all, she was one of their most accomplished two-year-olds and was sitting on the verge of grade three - with the competition she'd been keeping, that was a feat in and of itself. The filly was coming off of a very strong win against four other fillies, and was having this work to keep sharpened to a razor edge. She hardly needed it, but it was good to keep her on her toes. She was going a half mile, at a good-but-not-mindblowing pace. They wanted to keep some frustrated reserve in the tank for her to let loose with. Chance was being escorted to the track by Minske on the stable's track pony, Panther. However, he let her off right at the gap - while she was a huge handful in front of a crowd, things were mild enough that morning that she wouldn't get too upset being alone. True to form, the prancing grey was alert but not overly excited as her rider moved her into a more lengthened trot. Every once in awhile a horse would blow down the inside for their work and she'd get riled, throwing up her head trying to turn around and give chase. Clarimonde was comfortable with both the saddle and her antics, though, and he always got her back on the right track again. Despite her warm-up antics, she was bright and alert and ready to go when Clarimonde turned her to the inside of the track. He let her canter as they approached the rail, then eased out the reins on her mouth and she responded explosively and immediately. Head bobbing with the force of the acceleration, tail flagged behind her, the filly took a lot of muscle from her rider to keep her at the reasonable pace he was looking for.
She ripped around the turn, and Clarimonde could feel the moment her attention locked onto a pair of riders about two furlongs ahead of them. They were only doing a maintenance gallop, but Chance didn't care about their speed - she only knew she wanted to catch them. Clarimonde, loathe not to reward her dominant behavior, gave her a bit more slack to work with and the filly stretched out even more, seeming to float over the dirt as she gained on them. In the last furlong, when he'd normally really let her dig in, he refrained. He could feel the frustration in every line of her body - the other horses were so close - but he wanted this determined drive to be even more pronounced during the race. He pulled her up, deciding against the gallop out for the same reason. He knew he'd made the right decision when they were back at the gap and Chance swung her head around to him, ears pinned. Yes, she was ready to put up one hell of a fight in her upcoming trial.
