Picking a Winner: The Thoroughbred!

I was asked to expound on methods for picking a Derby winner, and had a little chuckle with myself. Of course, if I could pick winning racehorses, my career would likely have taken a different turn!

My successes in betting on racehorses are few. I did pick a winner at the Royal Ascot, many years ago. He was Dancing Brave, admittedly the favorite. His groom, Jayne, was a friend of mine, so I put down a wager based on those two precepts. I won enough for dinner out, and through Jayne, was invited to a champagne celebration where the horse was in attendance! Dancing Brave went on to become Horse of the Year in Britain that season, and by odd coincidence, I now own one of his great grandsons. My more significant “wins” with thoroughbreds are calculated in the many years of service they have rendered as companions in the sport of foxhunting. Here are a few thoughts on Thoroughbred racehorses, from my perspective, having owned and been owned by many of these fine creatures, one very close to my heart.

Without a doubt, the Thoroughbred is bred to be an athlete, a powerhouse, a racing machine. Who cannot be impressed when the gate opens on Derby Day and thousands of pounds of charging horsepower meet the track? It is exhilarating!

As exciting as racing can be, however, I’ll make the argument that the most significant contribution made by the Thoroughbred is its participation in the myriad of horse sports it finds following a racing career. Few horses race past their eighth year. This is an animal with a lifespan of up to 30 years—so it is important that the former racehorse find a second career.

The athleticism, drive, and heart, the total commitment to the human partnership expressed by the Thoroughbred has found expression in sports ranging from dressage to foxhunting, from polo to trail riding.

My favorite horse of my lifetime, my soul mate horse and friend, is a former racehorse, Forty-one. He had a decent career on the track in Florida, winning 10 races and retiring to stud. When I bought him he was seven years old, all muscle, highly competitive, and ready for a new job. I set out to teach him how to jump and become a foxhunter. He determined to teach me about heart.

Forty-one embraced foxhunting with his entire being. He came to love the sound of the hounds and horn. On hunt mornings he would drag me into the horse trailer! He came to understand the nature of the hunt and I had merely to watch the prick of his ears to know where hounds were speaking, long before I could hear them myself. My biggest challenge with him was to teach him that it was not necessary for us to “win” the hunt. No matter how long the day, how tiring the run, how high the fences, I always found myself in the front, right behind hounds, struggling not to pass the Field Master!! For 17 seasons, he carried me with power and grace. I owe my safety to his boldness over fences and his determination to take care of himself. My only job was to stick with him. And my biggest reward was a soft nicker of recognition when I entered his stall, a very gentle “hello friend”. We connected. This is the true contribution of a great horse, the opportunity provided for a human being to have a one on one relationship with a talented, unique individual. To that end, I offer this poem, dedicated to my great Thoroughbred, Forty-one, now 26 years old, and always a winner in my heart:

HARK! OLD HORSE
Hark! Old horse.
Please meet me at the gate.
Hounds are leaving kennels soon,
And we will not be late.

Step up. Old horse.
Carry me to the meet.
Our years together count for much,
Though you're no longer fleet.

Trot on. Old horse.
I know you hear the horn.
The hounds are in the valley now;
The fox is in the corn!

Kick on. Old horse,
My soul mate and my friend.
Our years together hunting are
The best that's ever been.

Leap up. Old horse.
Take the bit and fly!
I still trust you like no other,
Even though the fence is high.

Walk on. Old horse.
We’ll soon be hacking in.
Your nicker rests beside my heart.
Our souls entwine within.

Hark! Old horse.
The years reveal our fate.
If we should part before we wish,
Please meet me at the gate.

By Carla Hawkinson, MFH
I was asked to expound on methods for picking a Derby winner, and had a little chuckle with myself. Of course, if I could pick winning racehorses, my career would likely have taken a different turn!

My successes in betting on racehorses are few. I did pick a winner at the Royal Ascot, many years ago. He was Dancing Brave, admittedly the favorite. His groom, Jayne, was a friend of mine, so I put down a wager based on those two precepts. I won enough for dinner out, and through Jayne, was invited to a champagne celebration where the horse was in attendance! Dancing Brave went on to become Horse of the Year in Britain that season, and by odd coincidence, I now own one of his great grandsons. My more significant “wins” with thoroughbreds are calculated in the many years of service they have rendered as companions in the sport of foxhunting. Here are a few thoughts on Thoroughbred racehorses, from my perspective, having owned and been owned by many of these fine creatures, one very close to my heart.

Without a doubt, the Thoroughbred is bred to be an athlete, a powerhouse, a racing machine. Who cannot be impressed when the gate opens on Derby Day and thousands of pounds of charging horsepower meet the track? It is exhilarating!

As exciting as racing can be, however, I’ll make the argument that the most significant contribution made by the Thoroughbred is its participation in the myriad of horse sports it finds following a racing career. Few horses race past their eighth year. This is an animal with a lifespan of up to 30 years—so it is important that the former racehorse find a second career.

The athleticism, drive, and heart, the total commitment to the human partnership expressed by the Thoroughbred has found expression in sports ranging from dressage to foxhunting, from polo to trail riding.

My favorite horse of my lifetime, my soul mate horse and friend, is a former racehorse, Forty-one. He had a decent career on the track in Florida, winning 10 races and retiring to stud. When I bought him he was seven years old, all muscle, highly competitive, and ready for a new job. I set out to teach him how to jump and become a foxhunter. He determined to teach me about heart.

Forty-one embraced foxhunting with his entire being. He came to love the sound of the hounds and horn. On hunt mornings he would drag me into the horse trailer! He came to understand the nature of the hunt and I had merely to watch the prick of his ears to know where hounds were speaking, long before I could hear them myself. My biggest challenge with him was to teach him that it was not necessary for us to “win” the hunt. No matter how long the day, how tiring the run, how high the fences, I always found myself in the front, right behind hounds, struggling not to pass the Field Master!! For 17 seasons, he carried me with power and grace. I owe my safety to his boldness over fences and his determination to take care of himself. My only job was to stick with him. And my biggest reward was a soft nicker of recognition when I entered his stall, a very gentle “hello friend”. We connected. This is the true contribution of a great horse, the opportunity provided for a human being to have a one on one relationship with a talented, unique individual. To that end, I offer this poem, dedicated to my great Thoroughbred, Forty-one, now 26 years old, and always a winner in my heart:

HARK! OLD HORSE
Hark! Old horse.
Please meet me at the gate.
Hounds are leaving kennels soon,
And we will not be late.

Step up. Old horse.
Carry me to the meet.
Our years together count for much,
Though you're no longer fleet.

Trot on. Old horse.
I know you hear the horn.
The hounds are in the valley now;
The fox is in the corn!

Kick on. Old horse,
My soul mate and my friend.
Our years together hunting are
The best that's ever been.

Leap up. Old horse.
Take the bit and fly!
I still trust you like no other,
Even though the fence is high.

Walk on. Old horse.
We’ll soon be hacking in.
Your nicker rests beside my heart.
Our souls entwine within.

Hark! Old horse.
The years reveal our fate.
If we should part before we wish,
Please meet me at the gate.

By Carla Hawkinson, MFH