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OMG LOOK WHO IT IS.

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"Focus on your potential instead of your limitations."
~Alan Loy McGinnis

July was the Month of Maidens. As the nation calmed down from its five-week Triple Crown high, next year’s probables scurried from the woodwork and quietly took over. First into the fray leapt Tizizit, or “T-Rex” as he was fondly called. Despite a perfect trip and a seasoned Will Kayton guiding him, T-Rex placed a dismal seventh. Hell if he didn’t have fun while doing it, though. The colt might not have the raw talent to win this early in the game, but he certainly enjoyed himself while failing.

A mere two hours later, Will hopped aboard another BCC maiden, this time successfully securing a well-earned second place with Alvida. She was by far the most adorable of all the freshmen despite her larger than average size. Still a maiden, and she had already hit her adult growth spurt, towering over the colts by over half a hand. She was what Ling called an “early bloomer.”

Then it was Dawson’s turn to introduce the next BCC star. The black and white filly was smaller than Ally at the moment, but her large feet and mile-long legs promised that she would eventually surpass her golden stablemate to reach at least 17 hands. Bella Notte was an elegant creature, quick to defend what she considered hers and ever on the lookout for trouble. She was docile, subdued, but powerful nonetheless when she stepped onto the track. The filly could gallop across any surface and come out strong, but her youthful body made running difficult. She seemed too young and green despite that all-knowing stare. It was all Sven could do to keep her going in a straight line as she tripped over herself start to finish.

The Dark Creed, Dawson’s resident loon, unsuccessfully debuted a week later. Too distracted with gnawing on the metal gate, he missed his chance at an early lead when the doors flew open and he forgot to move. Sven tried his best to guide the colt closer to the front, but Creed was either too distracted or too challenged in the brain to do much about it. They stuttered home to a relaxed eleventh place finish.

And finally, it was the wonder boy’s turn. Crowds larger than those seen at some stakes races gathered in the Belmont stands to watch Trenton debut. The son of super sire Pipinoukhe and two-time Horse of the Year Andraste was the spitting image of his sire, a beautiful, chrome-decked bay with an overall laid-back personality and gentle gaze. However, his build, far more lithe than Pip’s, bespoke of his dam’s imprint. He had a compact little body and long yet strong legs. He was healthy, beautiful, glistening, strong. Trenton, with his calm demeanor and dominating presence, seemed to represent all that was good and just in the world. With one look, one could tell this colt was special.

When Trenton stepped onto the track, people sighed contentedly. He was the 2-3 favorite because the betting masses knew he would not fail them. He was simply perfection, a Michelangelo masterpiece sculpted from living clay.

Fox felt the fire brewing inside his mount as he shifted in the saddle one last time. Trenton’s outward appearance was deceivingly calm and quiet, but he could feel the colt’s neck muscles quiver almost microscopically as they gently loaded into the gate. Trent’s ears tipped forward. He pulled on his bit. As one, horse and jockey tensed.

When the gates opened, Trenton exploded from the gates and challenged the speedsters with a mocking laugh in his big brown doe’s eyes before settling into a steady pace just behind their tails. His strides were even and well balanced, their rhythm unhurried as if the colt knew none could challenge him.

Fox grinned. This was only the second time he had been on the colt, and he could already feel himself becoming addicted. He loved Titanus with all his heart, but it would be so easy to get used to Trenton’s calmer, self-assured strides. As they approached the turn for home, he relaxed his tense muscles, already confident they would win.

The frontrunners banked into the turn, signaling Fox that it was time to move. He loosened the reins and flashed his whip in Trenton’s face. “Let’s move, pretty boy!” he hooted happily. Trenton accepted the extra rein and banked.

Suddenly, the smooth stride faltered and grew choppy. Fox gasped in alarm as Trenton stumbled through four steps. Six. Seven. The colt’s head flew up in agitation and Fox was sure they were about to hit the dirt. Andraste’s ninja skills must have passed on to her son, however, for Trenton found his feet again and slopped through the rest of the turn without any more mishaps. The colt found his stride again, but was shaken, unsettled. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his feet anymore.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Fox cursed softly even as he brought the whip down on Trenton’s flank. Horses passed them left and right. Trenton finally got the memo and accelerated with a tremendous burst of speed, but by then it was too late. They placed fourth.

The crowd didn’t know how to act. News hounds pounced on Fox and Ling, begging for a comment, any comment, that would explain what had happened. Why had Trenton lost? His workouts had been beautiful, if a little slow and measured. The colt was in fine form. He had the bloodline of a champion. Yet he placed fourth in a maiden special weight? Explain, explain!

Ling did explain. Three simple words were all it took. “He’s still green.” The Asian trainer shrugged and waded through the reporters to catch his unhappy horse.

Fox merely affirmed Ling’s statement. “Trenton looks the part, but he’s still young in the britches. When he hit the turn and found himself in the wrong stride, he stumbled, then panicked. It was only temporary and easily fixed, but he obviously doesn’t yet know what to do with his feet.”

One reporter thrust his mic in Fox’s face. “But Trenton’s workouts have been phenomenal!” he shouted. “Why the sudden change?”

Fox scowled. “You try changing leads for the first time while running forty miles per hour with forty-four hooves tripping you up. I’d love to see how well you do.”

Fox met a few gazes, one by one, before stating, “Trenton is something special. I know it and so do the betters. He’s young yet. Give him time to grow. But once he grows into those clown shoes of his and gains some maturity? Watch out. You won’t know what hit you.”

Shown: Trenton
Racing Season: 2yo

Art and Characters © me

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Description
OMG LOOK WHO IT IS.

Continuation of:

"Focus on your potential instead of your limitations."
~Alan Loy McGinnis

July was the Month of Maidens. As the nation calmed down from its five-week Triple Crown high, next year’s probables scurried from the woodwork and quietly took over. First into the fray leapt Tizizit, or “T-Rex” as he was fondly called. Despite a perfect trip and a seasoned Will Kayton guiding him, T-Rex placed a dismal seventh. Hell if he didn’t have fun while doing it, though. The colt might not have the raw talent to win this early in the game, but he certainly enjoyed himself while failing.

A mere two hours later, Will hopped aboard another BCC maiden, this time successfully securing a well-earned second place with Alvida. She was by far the most adorable of all the freshmen despite her larger than average size. Still a maiden, and she had already hit her adult growth spurt, towering over the colts by over half a hand. She was what Ling called an “early bloomer.”

Then it was Dawson’s turn to introduce the next BCC star. The black and white filly was smaller than Ally at the moment, but her large feet and mile-long legs promised that she would eventually surpass her golden stablemate to reach at least 17 hands. Bella Notte was an elegant creature, quick to defend what she considered hers and ever on the lookout for trouble. She was docile, subdued, but powerful nonetheless when she stepped onto the track. The filly could gallop across any surface and come out strong, but her youthful body made running difficult. She seemed too young and green despite that all-knowing stare. It was all Sven could do to keep her going in a straight line as she tripped over herself start to finish.

The Dark Creed, Dawson’s resident loon, unsuccessfully debuted a week later. Too distracted with gnawing on the metal gate, he missed his chance at an early lead when the doors flew open and he forgot to move. Sven tried his best to guide the colt closer to the front, but Creed was either too distracted or too challenged in the brain to do much about it. They stuttered home to a relaxed eleventh place finish.

And finally, it was the wonder boy’s turn. Crowds larger than those seen at some stakes races gathered in the Belmont stands to watch Trenton debut. The son of super sire Pipinoukhe and two-time Horse of the Year Andraste was the spitting image of his sire, a beautiful, chrome-decked bay with an overall laid-back personality and gentle gaze. However, his build, far more lithe than Pip’s, bespoke of his dam’s imprint. He had a compact little body and long yet strong legs. He was healthy, beautiful, glistening, strong. Trenton, with his calm demeanor and dominating presence, seemed to represent all that was good and just in the world. With one look, one could tell this colt was special.

When Trenton stepped onto the track, people sighed contentedly. He was the 2-3 favorite because the betting masses knew he would not fail them. He was simply perfection, a Michelangelo masterpiece sculpted from living clay.

Fox felt the fire brewing inside his mount as he shifted in the saddle one last time. Trenton’s outward appearance was deceivingly calm and quiet, but he could feel the colt’s neck muscles quiver almost microscopically as they gently loaded into the gate. Trent’s ears tipped forward. He pulled on his bit. As one, horse and jockey tensed.

When the gates opened, Trenton exploded from the gates and challenged the speedsters with a mocking laugh in his big brown doe’s eyes before settling into a steady pace just behind their tails. His strides were even and well balanced, their rhythm unhurried as if the colt knew none could challenge him.

Fox grinned. This was only the second time he had been on the colt, and he could already feel himself becoming addicted. He loved Titanus with all his heart, but it would be so easy to get used to Trenton’s calmer, self-assured strides. As they approached the turn for home, he relaxed his tense muscles, already confident they would win.

The frontrunners banked into the turn, signaling Fox that it was time to move. He loosened the reins and flashed his whip in Trenton’s face. “Let’s move, pretty boy!” he hooted happily. Trenton accepted the extra rein and banked.

Suddenly, the smooth stride faltered and grew choppy. Fox gasped in alarm as Trenton stumbled through four steps. Six. Seven. The colt’s head flew up in agitation and Fox was sure they were about to hit the dirt. Andraste’s ninja skills must have passed on to her son, however, for Trenton found his feet again and slopped through the rest of the turn without any more mishaps. The colt found his stride again, but was shaken, unsettled. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his feet anymore.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Fox cursed softly even as he brought the whip down on Trenton’s flank. Horses passed them left and right. Trenton finally got the memo and accelerated with a tremendous burst of speed, but by then it was too late. They placed fourth.

The crowd didn’t know how to act. News hounds pounced on Fox and Ling, begging for a comment, any comment, that would explain what had happened. Why had Trenton lost? His workouts had been beautiful, if a little slow and measured. The colt was in fine form. He had the bloodline of a champion. Yet he placed fourth in a maiden special weight? Explain, explain!

Ling did explain. Three simple words were all it took. “He’s still green.” The Asian trainer shrugged and waded through the reporters to catch his unhappy horse.

Fox merely affirmed Ling’s statement. “Trenton looks the part, but he’s still young in the britches. When he hit the turn and found himself in the wrong stride, he stumbled, then panicked. It was only temporary and easily fixed, but he obviously doesn’t yet know what to do with his feet.”

One reporter thrust his mic in Fox’s face. “But Trenton’s workouts have been phenomenal!” he shouted. “Why the sudden change?”

Fox scowled. “You try changing leads for the first time while running forty miles per hour with forty-four hooves tripping you up. I’d love to see how well you do.”

Fox met a few gazes, one by one, before stating, “Trenton is something special. I know it and so do the betters. He’s young yet. Give him time to grow. But once he grows into those clown shoes of his and gains some maturity? Watch out. You won’t know what hit you.”

Shown: Trenton
Racing Season: 2yo

Art and Characters © me

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