Ultimatum

I considered being a giant bitch and leaving him to last every season, but then I decided he'd go in order as usual. THE PLOT THICKENS, ENJOY.

Oh yes, and tracks from the Dragon soundtrack which inspired this were mainly "Wounded" [link] and "Dragon's Den" [link]

It became apparent very soon that although Geist's mind had obviously been inherited from his sire, Lolo had imparted to him her speed. Despite his rapidly growing and filling frame, the likes of which would slow the acceleration of most colts his size, the white-faced youngster rapidly became the epitome of the speed demon. The :59 breeze he'd flashed for the press had been just the start--in the weeks to come, Geist would produce five furlongs in :58 1/5, six in 1:10, and seven in 1:22, and not once did he return from the track blowing hard. Damn it all if he wasn't doing it easy.

But he wasn't ready to race. Geist was still too dangerous to turn loose on a screaming crowd and a full field of horses. He would behave as long as Ellie was there, where he could keep his eye on her, but were she to disappear into a throng for as long as it took to parade to a starting gate... Everyone could see that was no kind of plan. Geist would somehow have to be eased delicately into the game, and already he was long behind the other horses in his class. Though there was no doubt El Diablo's son had the clout and the talent to be a Derby contender, it was already January and he hadn't even stepped into a starting gate.

That was the first step. Ellie was on winter holiday at the time (we were still trying to work out what would happen we she invariably had to go back to school), and Tom brought her to the backstretch at Gulfstream Park where Geist would become acquainted with the gate. He eyed it suspiciously at first, of course, and struggled mightily when he realized that the intention was to put him in that tiny metal box, but when Ellie put her hand on his shoulder, and then his rump, and gave him a gentle push, he hesitated, but complied.

And it was that easy. The gate would never be an enemy to Poltergeist again.

The following week was spent trying to find ways to fool Geist into behaving when Ellie wasn't around. One morning, Tom instructed her to hide in the stands and to only reveal herself if the horse got unruly. He outfoxed the old trainer by stopping at the finish line during his gallop and scenting the air until he found her by his sensitive nose. The following day, Ellie waited outside the track entrance, a cell phone in her father's hand. Again, Geist stopped at the finish and drew a long breath, but when he couldn't smell his girl, the black colt grew anxious.

Frankie nudged him forward with his legs, and in reply Poltergeist reared and kicked hard. Snatching a handful of pitch mane, the wide-eyed jockey sat the renewal of the Poltergeist rodeo until Ellie and her father ran up to the fence, having been called in by Tom. Seeing her, the horse immediately calmed.

It was a disaster waiting to happen, and we knew it. Geist could not run if Ellie wasn't there. He was, however, quite ready to go if she was present, and so, on the eve of her thirteenth birthday and the night before she had to go home and to school, Tom entered Poltergeist in a maiden special weight at Gulfstream.

The seven-furlong race drew eight horses, and by post time, Poltergeist was 2-5. You can't hide the good ones, and particularly not when he's been forged from the blood of two great horses, gifted with impossible speed.

The post parade led Poltergeist past the grandstand once, where he lifted his head, drew his breath and leveled his calm gaze on Ellie, who was standing with dad at the rail. Geist whinnied to her, and she waved back, and several onlookers blinked in surprise. Satisfied, the colt walked, businesslike, to the gate and loaded quietly.

Roses bloomed in front of our eyes: Geist broke like a rocket and screamed to the lead, doing his mother proud with fractions of :22, :45, :1:08 before thundering home in 1:21 4/5--stakes time--and clear by nearly fifteen. A rumble went through the crowd as they struggled to process it, but Ellie out-screamed them all from her spot at the rail, jumping and clapping and cheering him home. Chloe jogged to the girl, took her hand and together they sprinted to the winner's circle, where the photographers drank their fill of a son of El Diablo being smothered by a thirteen-year-old.

But then reality crashed. Ellie had to go home the next day, and though we had plenty of cash for plane tickets (and we were so very willing to pay), flying out to Florida from southern Quebec every four weekends just wasn't feasible. Disappointment loomed over the operation.

And then Tom had an idea.

Wreaking havoc on the Gulfstream standings that winter was Laurence Leclerc, now a top jockey and rising star thanks to success on Paprika, Faster and finally Percuss in the Breeders' Cup Classic the previous year. Trainers had finally recognized his superior horsemanship and communicative wizardry when dealing with problem horses, and he was the talk of the winter racing scene. Tom wanted to introduce the man to Poltergeist.

The first thing Laurence did after he hung up on Thomas Russell was to call Jean-Francois Pellerin. He told Frankie about Tom's idea and asked if it was okay with him--Frankie told him he'd had more superstars than a thirty-one-year-old jockey could dare to dream about having in an entire career, and besides, he still held a grudge against this thing's daddy. He told Laurence that if he could keep the beast under control, more power to him. Leclerc hung up and breathed a deep, anxious breath.

The following morning, Laurence appeared in front of Poltergeist's stall armed to the teeth with apples, carrots, sugar cubes and peppermints. The black colt, having discerned the distinct lack of Ellie in his immediate environment, stared the jockey down with a combination of mistrust and disdain and dared him to make the first move. The young man did, producing a shining green apple from his pocket and offering it as if to an idol.

It was tentative, and hesitant, but Geist accepted Laurence into his territory. He was tense and easily agitated over those next few days, but when the young jockey received his first leg up into the black colt's saddle for a gallop five days after his monster first start, Laurence did not end up in the dirt. In fact, murmuring his usual Acadian French nonsense all the way around the oval, he even once coaxed Geist into lifting his ears.

That was not to say that the horse was particularly happy. Though he enjoyed track work and blistered his first breeze under his new jockey in :59 2/5, when Geist was in his stall he was dark and moody. Tom and Chloe had become familiar to him, so he respected their space and authority (to an extent), but the black colt was unpredictable, sometimes behaving quite well and sometimes busting out his old moves smack in the middle of a supposedly routine paddock schooling session.

It made for an eventual Eclipse-award winning photograph.

Ellie called regularly, and Chloe sent her pictures of Geist, detailing his works and his breezes. Ellie said that he didn't look too happy in the pictures. Chloe honestly told her why. Ellie's father didn't appreciate being begged to make the trek to Florida again so soon, and refused. Poltergeist was entered in the GII Fountain of Youth in mid-February.

It was a disaster. Laurence had him calm in the parade, and into the gate, but once the iron bars gave way Geist was uncontrollable, veering every which way across the track and taking apparent pleasure in the frustrations of his rider. By the time the field turned for home, Laurence, with one hand flat on the colt's neck and his mouth by Geist's ears, whispering, had pulled the colt up.

Eight days later, it was as if nothing had happened. Laurence breezed him six furlongs in 1:10 3/5, the colt came back bouncing and snorting, and Tom could find nothing that had changed other than the simple fact that it was not race day. Geist had issued his ultimatum: Ellie, or nothing. The little girl's father was firm; she would not travel into the States until summer vacation.

There was nothing for it. Geist was put on hold.

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The Derby passed by, leaving a bittersweet flavour in our mouths as Faster and Cordax put on their usual show. The Preakness passed, too, and this time the taste was all bitterness as Faster had to be taken out of training and shipped back to the farm for who knew how long. Geist continued to fire bullet after bullet on the training track. He was walking on hot coals, a live wire beside a pond, a bundle of bursting energy.

The Belmont Stakes passed us by. Ellie, in her first year of high school, worked furiously at her exams, knowing what awaited her when they were through.

At long last, on June 27th, she arrived. Geist squawked like a parrot when he saw her, and she didn't leave his stall for an entire afternoon and evening.

Jumping out of his skin, Poltergeist had to be entered as quickly as possible in something, anything, but no suitable condition came up. Everything was too short, too long... they'd scare away all the competition here, no track would run a walkover allowance...

Rubbing his mouth and hiding a tiny smile, Tom dropped Geist's name into the entry box for the 9f GII Suburban Handicap. Against older males. Chloe goggled at her boss, and then cackled like a hyena for ten minutes. Laurence just blanched at the 113-pound impost, but Tom assured him he didn't have to make the weight. Geist, he said, would cream them if he carried Santa Claus.

And Ellie lined up at the rail--with her mother, this time--at Belmont Park as the horses paraded by. In her hand was a $10 win ticket on the biggest lock that ever went off at odds of nearly 30-1.

When the thunderclap that signaled the opening of the gate rang out, Poltergeist was already three jumps ahead and running away from his competition. Under a feather's weight, Eidolon's son did his mother proud, streaking off to lead by six in the early running, setting what should have been suicidal fractions. On the turn, the track announcer saw Geist backing up to the field and assumed he was done, turning his attention to the other runners and almost missing it completely when the black colt pinned his ears, gave the devil-horse equivalent of a menacing grin, and gunned it.

Off of a five-month layoff, Poltergeist ran nine furlongs in 1:46 1/5, missing Secretariat's record by less than a second. The grandstand was eerily quiet as he roared by, save for the joyous squeals of a young girl.

Geist annexed the Haskell next, running the distance in 1:47 and equalling the stakes record. In doing so, he made mince meat out of Cordax and eight others, putting them better than six lengths in his rear view mirror.

The Travers was only a little more difficult. With the extra distance, Geist was harder pressed to sustain his mad dash, but sustain he did, outfighting the winner of the Preakness Stakes, a dark colt called Cat Quick, by half a length.

And then Ellie went back to school, and Geist was put away until the Christmas holidays arrived. When they did, the little girl and giant horse met at Gulfstream once more, where the black goliath seared a seven-furlong work in 1:21 3/5 and awaited competition.

Tom and Chloe pretended not to notice Ellie begin to grow into her teenaged resentment.


Name: Poltergeist
Barn name: Geist, That Mean Little Sonuva
Gender: Colt
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age: 3
Height: Projected 17hh
Color: Black splash
Genotype: EE aa nSpl
Markings: two front socks, two hind stockings; white face with small lip spot, dark nostrils, "eyeliner"; two blue eyes
Temperament: Geist is a bundle of nerves, fire and violence. His athleticism allows him to thrash in all kinds of creative ways when handled, and the burning intelligence he got from mom (we think he's even smarter than Lolo) makes it difficult to predict when he's going to throw his tantrums.
Discipline: Racing prospect
Preferred distance: Unknown
Running style: Unknown
Bloodlines: El Diablo x Eidolon
Offspring: N/A
For stud/lease: Unavailable

Season: 5-4-0-0
Major Stakes Wins: GII Suburban Handicap, GI Haskell Invitational, GI Travers Stakes