Post by Anthony Lovasz on Mar 2, 2008 21:02:05 GMT -6
The day of the Santa Anita had come, and all of the park was milling with excitement. Most of the riders there had come to know Shadow of a Doubt, called the little racehorse that used to could by the media, and all of them were excited beyond belief. Could "Little D" break his run of bad luck and win the big one? That question was the one on everyone's mind. Of course, there were other horses from the park running as well, but there wasn't a soul alive who couldn't like Doubt, he was too friendly and amicable to not like.
As the horse was lead out to the saddling area, Charlie Parker, Doubt's trainer, walked along side the jockey, Anthony Lovasz, giving him final instructions before going to work on the horse. The tacking went relatively quickly since Doubt rarely, if ever, put up a fight when they were saddling him. He stood quietly in his section as the other colts fought their handlers, whinnying and bucking, snorting and kicking. To be perfectly honest, in comparison, Doubt didn't really look like a racehorse. He was too quiet, too calm, too small. Champions were larger ornery and loud, none of which were attributes of the little gray.
Finally the call to mount. Anthony got himself situated on Doubt's back, and the handler started them forwards onto the track. There were hundreds, even thousands of people there for the race. Most of them the fancy well to do people who came to the races only because it was "fashionable" to do so. A small cheer from Doubt's few admirers rose up in the stands as the little horse stepped out onto the track, but it was nothing compared to the roar that followed as the favorite, a big black, strode majestically into view. That horse was perfect, undefeated in his career, young, strapping, bold, and fast. When he broke out of the gate he would take the lead and hold it, boldly fending of anyone who dared to challenge him. He was the pace setter, and it was a fast pace, and he was the biggest competitor out there.
The call to post. The horses lead in. The seemingly long silence that lasted only a few moments. The bell. The gate. The surge. Doubt leapt forward a fraction of a second slower than the rest of the field like he always did, and started out near the end of the pack. His stride was smooth and even, just like it was supposed to be, and he was completely under Anthony's control. Everything was going perfectly, and continued to go just that way. Slowly, ever so slowly, Doubt and Anthony moved up in the pack, taking one horse at a time. By the time they entered the stretch and all the horses poured on the speed and power, Doubt was running in his typical position, his shoulder aligned with the leader's hip.
It was quite a contrast, the big black powering down the track, and the little gray running along just behind him. As the finish drew nearer and nearer, Doubt moved up along side the leader, neck and neck, knee to knee. With only a few lengths left to go, Anthony flicked the whip twice, and Doubt was gone. He crossed the finish half a length in front of the favorite, a huge upset, but a thrilling race. Everything was perfect right? He went to the winner's circle and they got their picture taken with a trophy. The end. Nope, not quite.
Before Anthony had even begun to pull Doubt up, something went terribly wrong. The big black, still right along side them screamed and veered towards them, his back leg broken by misstep. The massive colt collided with Doubt and Anthony in mid-stride, and the two were sent hurtling towards the rail. The jockey tried to right the horse and get him back on track, but it was too late. Doubt crashed through the rail, smashing it to pieces as his body flew towards the ground. Anthony tried to throw himself out of the way of the horse's falling body, but he was so off balance that it didn't work very well.
The crushing weight of a 1,200 pound horse came smashing down on top of him, followed by the sickening crack of breaking bone, and the feeling of suffocation. Doubt was back up on his feet quickly, a few cuts riddled his body, and he didn't seem to want to put weight on his right front hoof, but other than that seemed relatively unharmed. He limped over to his fallen rider who hadn't moved from where he lay, and nudged him with his nose as if asking what on earth he was doing lying in the grass.
Anthony groaned in pain at the movement caused by Doubt's curiosity, and lifted his left hand shakily to push the horse's head away. "You're not helping." he mumbled to the horse breathlessly. Mentally, he explored his body, checking for broken bones and other such damage caused by the fall. He didn't get very far. His right arm just above the wrist seemed to not be working quite right and was throbbing painfully. He had at least one broken rib, maybe more, and his left leg was bleeding profusely from crashing through the rail. The medics were suddenly around him, trying to pull Doubt away so they could get to them. Unfortunately none of them knew that there were only about five people in the whole world who could manage the horse without a fight.
After several minutes, Doubt's handler arrived and took the horse away from the accident, knowing that the horse's already swollen ankle needed to be seen to right away. As he lead the limping horse past the crowed and back towards the stable, he denied any and all requests to stop to pose with the champion for a photo. The horse's needs came before the press.
Meanwhile, Anthony hadn't moved. He knew quite well that moving would only make things worse, and as much as he hated doctors, he couldn't work his way out of this one. He was hurt bad, there was no denying that. The EMTs kept asking what hurt, what he thought was broken, and it was really starting to irritate him. Finally, having enough with their questions, he forced himself into the sitting position. It hurt like hell, and he almost lost conscious, but managed not to. He probably would have risen to his feet as well, but he felt the trainer's hand on his shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself more than you already have." Charlie said calmly, "I need you to ride the next race Doubt's in." Of course, the next race wouldn't be for a very long time, but that didn't matter. If it would keep Anthony from killing himself, Charlie would say it.
Anthony looked skeptical though, and pushed himself onto his feet. This too send waves of pain rolling through him, enough to the point that he shut his eyes and grimaced. The EMT's were trying to get him to lie back down so they could get him on a stretcher, but he would have none of it. "Get me outta here." He mumbled to Charlie. The trainer said nothing for a minute, wishing that Anthony would stop being so ridiculous, but when he saw that the jockey was not going to comply, he took hold of the rider's arm, and put it over his shoulder, supporting Anthony's weight himself. The doctor's protested, but soon gave up as trainer and jockey continued walking.
The press were snapping photos and busily writing as the injured jockey limped off the track, dirt sweat and blood flecked across his body. As he walked past the solemn crowed, someone let out a cheer, and soon the whole stadium erupted into cheers. At least, most of the crowd anyway. That same small group of people who had cheered for him when he and Doubt came onto the track, were silent, concern written across their faces as they pushed through the people, trying to get to Anthony before he got away. It was obvious that the jockey was hurt, and it was probably really foolish to walk away without the doctor's care, but he was currently more irritated than anything. Sure every step, every breath, everything hurt, but he had almost no patience with doctors, and when he said enough was enough, he meant it.
Jockey and trainer entered into the jockey's lounge, and Anthony lowered himself slowly onto the bench, and leaned back against the wall. The other jockeys, who had returned earlier, stopped what they were doing and starred, a few of them whispering questions and comments to each other. Finally, someone asked what they were all thinking. "Hey Lovasz," He said, "I thought you were hurt, why aren't you with the doctor?" A slight smile covered Anthony's face for a moment before he answered. "I didn't like the guy." He said, wincing painfully as he did so. A few laughs went up in the room. They all knew that to be true, and they also knew that it wasn't the real reason he wasn't going to the hospital. One because in his shape that was no reason not to go to the hospital, and two because they all knew him not to be dumb enough not to do what was best for him simply because he didn't like someone.
That race had been about two weeks ago, and Anthony hadn't ever gone to the hospital. Anyone and everyone who cared for him had tried again and again to get him to go see a doctor, but it had all been in vain. He'd lived most of his life with the knowledge that doctors could often do more harm than good...Mexican doctors where he was from anyway, and even though he was now in the States, he just couldn't bring himself to trust doctors.
He stood beside the rail, watching a few horses working out on the track, wishing he could be out there riding, knowing that if he even tried it he'd kill himself from pain. He'd figured out by now that his right arm was fractured just above the wrist, for which he wore a simple brace, and had two broken ribs, not to mention that nasty cut on the back of his left leg. All in all he was pretty beat up, but it wasn't enough to make him change his mind about the doctor. He was certainly on the mend, though he knew it would probably be at least another month before he could ride again, after all, he did have a punctured lung as well as all those injuries, so breathing was still somewhat of a struggle. Anything strenuous would only make it more difficult to breathe and riding a racehorse was definitely strenuous.
He sighed and leaned back against the rail, not really thinking about anything. Unlike a lot of people, he'd had no tragedy in his life...unless you considered losing his first horse when he was fifteen or that accident two weeks ago a tragedy. He'd also not had any moments in his life that stood out above all the rest, and so he didn't really have any thoughts to drift off to. He just looked out over the stables, watching the daily life that went on there, wishing he could be riding instead of standing there doing nothing.
As the horse was lead out to the saddling area, Charlie Parker, Doubt's trainer, walked along side the jockey, Anthony Lovasz, giving him final instructions before going to work on the horse. The tacking went relatively quickly since Doubt rarely, if ever, put up a fight when they were saddling him. He stood quietly in his section as the other colts fought their handlers, whinnying and bucking, snorting and kicking. To be perfectly honest, in comparison, Doubt didn't really look like a racehorse. He was too quiet, too calm, too small. Champions were larger ornery and loud, none of which were attributes of the little gray.
Finally the call to mount. Anthony got himself situated on Doubt's back, and the handler started them forwards onto the track. There were hundreds, even thousands of people there for the race. Most of them the fancy well to do people who came to the races only because it was "fashionable" to do so. A small cheer from Doubt's few admirers rose up in the stands as the little horse stepped out onto the track, but it was nothing compared to the roar that followed as the favorite, a big black, strode majestically into view. That horse was perfect, undefeated in his career, young, strapping, bold, and fast. When he broke out of the gate he would take the lead and hold it, boldly fending of anyone who dared to challenge him. He was the pace setter, and it was a fast pace, and he was the biggest competitor out there.
The call to post. The horses lead in. The seemingly long silence that lasted only a few moments. The bell. The gate. The surge. Doubt leapt forward a fraction of a second slower than the rest of the field like he always did, and started out near the end of the pack. His stride was smooth and even, just like it was supposed to be, and he was completely under Anthony's control. Everything was going perfectly, and continued to go just that way. Slowly, ever so slowly, Doubt and Anthony moved up in the pack, taking one horse at a time. By the time they entered the stretch and all the horses poured on the speed and power, Doubt was running in his typical position, his shoulder aligned with the leader's hip.
It was quite a contrast, the big black powering down the track, and the little gray running along just behind him. As the finish drew nearer and nearer, Doubt moved up along side the leader, neck and neck, knee to knee. With only a few lengths left to go, Anthony flicked the whip twice, and Doubt was gone. He crossed the finish half a length in front of the favorite, a huge upset, but a thrilling race. Everything was perfect right? He went to the winner's circle and they got their picture taken with a trophy. The end. Nope, not quite.
Before Anthony had even begun to pull Doubt up, something went terribly wrong. The big black, still right along side them screamed and veered towards them, his back leg broken by misstep. The massive colt collided with Doubt and Anthony in mid-stride, and the two were sent hurtling towards the rail. The jockey tried to right the horse and get him back on track, but it was too late. Doubt crashed through the rail, smashing it to pieces as his body flew towards the ground. Anthony tried to throw himself out of the way of the horse's falling body, but he was so off balance that it didn't work very well.
The crushing weight of a 1,200 pound horse came smashing down on top of him, followed by the sickening crack of breaking bone, and the feeling of suffocation. Doubt was back up on his feet quickly, a few cuts riddled his body, and he didn't seem to want to put weight on his right front hoof, but other than that seemed relatively unharmed. He limped over to his fallen rider who hadn't moved from where he lay, and nudged him with his nose as if asking what on earth he was doing lying in the grass.
Anthony groaned in pain at the movement caused by Doubt's curiosity, and lifted his left hand shakily to push the horse's head away. "You're not helping." he mumbled to the horse breathlessly. Mentally, he explored his body, checking for broken bones and other such damage caused by the fall. He didn't get very far. His right arm just above the wrist seemed to not be working quite right and was throbbing painfully. He had at least one broken rib, maybe more, and his left leg was bleeding profusely from crashing through the rail. The medics were suddenly around him, trying to pull Doubt away so they could get to them. Unfortunately none of them knew that there were only about five people in the whole world who could manage the horse without a fight.
After several minutes, Doubt's handler arrived and took the horse away from the accident, knowing that the horse's already swollen ankle needed to be seen to right away. As he lead the limping horse past the crowed and back towards the stable, he denied any and all requests to stop to pose with the champion for a photo. The horse's needs came before the press.
Meanwhile, Anthony hadn't moved. He knew quite well that moving would only make things worse, and as much as he hated doctors, he couldn't work his way out of this one. He was hurt bad, there was no denying that. The EMTs kept asking what hurt, what he thought was broken, and it was really starting to irritate him. Finally, having enough with their questions, he forced himself into the sitting position. It hurt like hell, and he almost lost conscious, but managed not to. He probably would have risen to his feet as well, but he felt the trainer's hand on his shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself more than you already have." Charlie said calmly, "I need you to ride the next race Doubt's in." Of course, the next race wouldn't be for a very long time, but that didn't matter. If it would keep Anthony from killing himself, Charlie would say it.
Anthony looked skeptical though, and pushed himself onto his feet. This too send waves of pain rolling through him, enough to the point that he shut his eyes and grimaced. The EMT's were trying to get him to lie back down so they could get him on a stretcher, but he would have none of it. "Get me outta here." He mumbled to Charlie. The trainer said nothing for a minute, wishing that Anthony would stop being so ridiculous, but when he saw that the jockey was not going to comply, he took hold of the rider's arm, and put it over his shoulder, supporting Anthony's weight himself. The doctor's protested, but soon gave up as trainer and jockey continued walking.
The press were snapping photos and busily writing as the injured jockey limped off the track, dirt sweat and blood flecked across his body. As he walked past the solemn crowed, someone let out a cheer, and soon the whole stadium erupted into cheers. At least, most of the crowd anyway. That same small group of people who had cheered for him when he and Doubt came onto the track, were silent, concern written across their faces as they pushed through the people, trying to get to Anthony before he got away. It was obvious that the jockey was hurt, and it was probably really foolish to walk away without the doctor's care, but he was currently more irritated than anything. Sure every step, every breath, everything hurt, but he had almost no patience with doctors, and when he said enough was enough, he meant it.
Jockey and trainer entered into the jockey's lounge, and Anthony lowered himself slowly onto the bench, and leaned back against the wall. The other jockeys, who had returned earlier, stopped what they were doing and starred, a few of them whispering questions and comments to each other. Finally, someone asked what they were all thinking. "Hey Lovasz," He said, "I thought you were hurt, why aren't you with the doctor?" A slight smile covered Anthony's face for a moment before he answered. "I didn't like the guy." He said, wincing painfully as he did so. A few laughs went up in the room. They all knew that to be true, and they also knew that it wasn't the real reason he wasn't going to the hospital. One because in his shape that was no reason not to go to the hospital, and two because they all knew him not to be dumb enough not to do what was best for him simply because he didn't like someone.
That race had been about two weeks ago, and Anthony hadn't ever gone to the hospital. Anyone and everyone who cared for him had tried again and again to get him to go see a doctor, but it had all been in vain. He'd lived most of his life with the knowledge that doctors could often do more harm than good...Mexican doctors where he was from anyway, and even though he was now in the States, he just couldn't bring himself to trust doctors.
He stood beside the rail, watching a few horses working out on the track, wishing he could be out there riding, knowing that if he even tried it he'd kill himself from pain. He'd figured out by now that his right arm was fractured just above the wrist, for which he wore a simple brace, and had two broken ribs, not to mention that nasty cut on the back of his left leg. All in all he was pretty beat up, but it wasn't enough to make him change his mind about the doctor. He was certainly on the mend, though he knew it would probably be at least another month before he could ride again, after all, he did have a punctured lung as well as all those injuries, so breathing was still somewhat of a struggle. Anything strenuous would only make it more difficult to breathe and riding a racehorse was definitely strenuous.
He sighed and leaned back against the rail, not really thinking about anything. Unlike a lot of people, he'd had no tragedy in his life...unless you considered losing his first horse when he was fifteen or that accident two weeks ago a tragedy. He'd also not had any moments in his life that stood out above all the rest, and so he didn't really have any thoughts to drift off to. He just looked out over the stables, watching the daily life that went on there, wishing he could be riding instead of standing there doing nothing.
