All Tangled Up

SO THIS HAS BEEN FINISHED AND WAITING TO BE UPLOADED FOREVERRRR.

OH. AND.

If anybody has a two-year-old TB at the moment and would like him to be the Futurity winner I mentioned, omg let me know. O:

It became quite apparent early on that Awry was a bit of a danger to himself.

Always, in the pastures, the strapping sabino colt would zip about his mother's legs, sprinting madly to and fro for as long as his considerable reserves of energy would allow. As a weanling and yearling, the pattern continued, and by the time it was time to break him in, Awry was already in rather good shape. In fact, the most difficult part of getting the Paradox colt accustomed to training was convincing him to slow down. Once he had deduced that his job on track was to run, he did so with gusto, and exercise riders regularly came back complaining that their arms felt like they'd been ripped from their sockets.

At first, we thought that a colt like that would benefit from an open bridle; blinkers tended to focus a racehorse and sharpen his speed, and that was the last thing Awry needed. However, without anything to keep him looking forward, he would start to play around down the lane, occasionally bolting out sideways into the paths of other workers. We caved and put the blinkers on, half-cups; his behaviour improved. And after he'd jumped a few shadows down the lane during training, we gave him a shadow roll, as well. It helped.

In August of his two-year-old season, we took the first son of Veridical to Saratoga. Naturally, given his mother's fame and his own remarkable appearance, Awry was followed by the press, featured in blogs, written about it the Blood-Horse, hounded by photographers and all-around prematurely accustomed to the wildness of a crowd. At first, he reacted violently, as any confused child might, but he was intelligent, and soon learned to bask in the attention. Furthermore, Awry was growing into his long, lanky frame, filling out and muscling up until he gleamed and rippled under the New York sun.

His first race came at last on the undercard of the Saratoga Special, in a six-furlong maiden race on the main track. Awry's jockey was given specific instructions to allow the colt to take the lead but to keep a stout hold of him all the way around, unless was challenged. Privately, many of us didn't think he would be. By virtue of a trio of spectacular workouts, Awry was sent to post the 7-5 favourite in his career bow.

The gates opened, and as expected, a white-marked streak shot from the clanging contraption and immediately set out on a suicide mission, blazing an opening quarter in :21 2/5 while two others attempted to give chase. That didn't last long; after a half in :44 Awry was loose with a five-length lead, and his jockey still had him in a stranglehold. The lead only increased in the stretch, Tom Durkin singing his praises into the mic while the crowd applauded him home: 1:08 3/5 and by ten lengths with his nose very nearly drawn back to his chest. It took another quarter of a mile to pull him up.

The GI Hopeful, also at Saratoga, was next up for the sparkling debut winner. Given the maiden race gallop-out, we were fairly confident he could handle the extra furlong; he didn't let us down. A foolish recent maiden winner tried to hook him down the backstretch, and Awry promptly destroyed him, carrying the unwary challenger through a half in :45 1/5 and then zipping away as he'd done before, clear by six in 1:22 flat.

We tried Belmont's GI Champagne next, this time at a mile, to test for distance limitations. The Belmont Futurity winner had also been entered, and he was a horse most thought more likely to go a distance; by his pedigree he was a router, and he had developed a late-running style. And so, when Awry shot out of the gate as if out of a loaded gun, we had reason to worry. Indeed, he inhaled the first quarter in :22 and the half in :44 4/5, and at the top of the stretch, though he commanded a four-length lead, the Futurity winner was closing in. Two noses hit the three-quarter-mile mark in 1:08 1/5, a blazing fraction for juveniles, and two noses hit the wire in 1:34 flat. The photo finish took the race from Awry and gave it to his opponent: his first defeat, and a harsh one.

Awry was hurt in training a few weeks from the Breeders' Cup: a mild suspensory ligament injury which would take him out of the Championships and put him on the sidelines until his three-year-old season.



BABY GROWIN' UP.


Name: Awry
Gender: Colt
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 2-year-old
Height: A hair under 16 hands and growing
Color: BLood bay sabino splash
Genotype: Ee Aa nSb nSpl
Markings: Sabino paint markings, bald face, two blue eyes
Temperament: Even as a newborn, Awry's mind seemed dominated by the deep instinct to run. He chased his mother, butterflies, bees, small dogs, squirrels... anything that moved, really, and always seemed confused when they didn't give chase when he inevitably overtook them. As a racehorse, he's an absolute demon.
Discipline: Dirt racing
Bloodlines: Paradox x Veridical
Offspring: N/A
For stud/lease: No, too young.