The Iceman Cometh

~First Race, Shipping~

The other 2-year-olds began racing. Some won, some lost. Bloody Sunday, Next Stop, and Waving Palms all won stakes races. Bloody Sunday was entered in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Turf, and he won it over British horses. Mr. Mott decided to send him to England.

The Iceman didn't start as a 2-year-old because he was recovering from the accident. He didn't seem to like running. Mr. Mott had given me the full responsibility of training him, at least until he showed some promise. One day, I got bored and decided to work him on the grass instead of dirt. Mr. Mott was nearby on the rail watching Bloody Sunday work.
"How far is Bloody Sunday going, Bill?" I asked.
"8 furlongs."
That was the same as The Iceman. Big mistake on my part. I didn't want The Iceman hampering Bloody Sunday's chances of being a success.

The 2 colts, both galloping, approached the pole that acted as their starting line. Then, their exercise riders whipped them, and Bloody Sunday left The Iceman behind, just like I knew he would. But as he did, he bumped The Iceman. Iceman's exercise rider, Owen, got to work on him, scrubbing, to try to get him to catch up. The Iceman saw Bloody Sunday far ahead, and suddenly exploded, chasing the colt who had inconvenienced him around the turn. The Iceman closed the gap rapidly and caught Bloody Sunday as they hit the stretch. The two were locked together, fighting neck and neck, but The Iceman drew away in the final yards, doing all he could to make sure the other horse didn't finish ahead.

"What the heck was that? Who the heck was that?!" Bill exclaimed.
"The Iceman. He's never done that before, but he's never worked on the turf before." I was flabbergasted at first, but realized I shouldn't be. He hated other horses, and if they got near him, he reacted. "He doesn't like other horses."

"So he's got motivation. He's the one that was in the accident....hmmm...Well, I think we've got ourself a grass horse here."

From then on, Bloody Sunday and The Iceman worked in tandem.
~
April came, and Bill and I decided it was a good time for The Iceman to make his first start. I entered him in a starter allowance race going 9 furlongs (1 & 1/8 miles) on the turf. There was only one horse that posed a threat. His name was Cannot Be Ruled and he was a son of Holy Roman Emperor. He had already won 2 turf stakes races in England before he was sold to Three Chimneys Farm, who brought him to the US.

Juddmonte had decided to go out on a limb and ask John Velazquez to ride their horses in the US back before the Breeders' Cup, and he had said yes. It was John who guided Bloody Sunday to the winner's circle at the Breeders' Cup. Today he was riding The Iceman.

"Let him look at his opponents. Just see what he can do. Oh, and look out for Cannot Be Ruled," I told John as I boosted him into the saddle in the paddock. He had never been on The Iceman before.
"He's kinda small, ain't he?"
"Yeah, but he bites like a Sonofa. Good luck!"

The Iceman came out of the gate relatively fast for a green horse, but Cannot Be Ruled came over and slammed into him. Cannot Be Ruled went to the lead and lead going into the turn. The Iceman was galloping along last, stuck behind a pack, but as they hit the first turn, he saw Cannot Be Ruled up in front. John moved him to the outside and let him go as they hit the backstretch, my even halfway to the finish.
He just blew it, I thought. Guess that's why we never had him ride our horses before.
Iceman was closing the distance, a good 20 lengths, between him and Cannot Be Ruled. I just didn't think he would last. As they entered the final turn, The Iceman was only behind by 3, and as they entered the stretch, he drew even. He faltered for a second to look at his opponent. I saw his nostrils expand as he snorted. John reached back and hit him once on the rump, and he exploded forward. I always stood at the rail, and an older journalist next to me was frozen, his pencil in midair. In a moment, though, his pencil was flying. I recognized him. It was the great Steve Haskin, who frequently covered Secretariat. As The Iceman crossed the wire, ahead by 3, he whistled.
"He's gonna be good. Gotta watch him," I heard him mutter under his breath.
I smiled, but didn't say anything. Instead, I left to guide Iceman to the winner's circle. The picture was taken, and I started talking to John as he jumped off.
"I thought you blew it on the first turn. Good judgement call there."
"He really wanted to go, and there wasn't nowhere to go. Takin' him wide was the only thing to do. Once he caught that colt, though, he didn't wanna go anymore. He lost focus, so I had to get on him."
"That was a good ride, John."
"Thank you, ma'am. I think this boy'll be a turf horse, so he's probably going to England, but if you keep him here, I'll ride him anytime. And I think 'The Iceman' fits him."

So John thought he was something special, and he also thought he was going to England. He only rode The Iceman once more, but he turned out to be right.
~
Bill decided to send The Iceman, Bloody Sunday, Friend To All, and If You Think. I thought he might send Last Stand, but apparently he was better on dirt and was on the Kentucky Derby trail. Since I knew all 4 of the horses well, he decided to send me with them. I was originally Irish, so really, I was just going home.
~
The Iceman was the last one off, and they had trouble with him, so the other 3 were already in their stalls at the new yard. As he came to the opening of the plane, he stopped and looked around. He whinnied, and when an answer came in the distance, he snorted. Then, he stepped off jauntily. He would only take 3 more plane rides in his lifetime: to Dubai and back, and to America. But for now, I had to train The Iceman to go the other way on the track. I really was not looking forward to that.

-before you go