Gems and Birds and Texas (open)

[jaimy]

It was a relatively cool morning. Very early, make no mistake, it was still a little dark out, and a light mist covered the track. The peaceful morning silence was rudely interrupted by a loud squeal. Jaimy turned to see his filly Gem of the Night throwing a tantrum. Despite her riders kicks and crop, the filly was backing up rapidly, ears pinned, and tail swishing like crazy. Jaimy raised his eyebrows. The jockey gave her a wicked smack, and the filly stopped, collected her weight on her hind end, and reared; high and gracefully. The jockey was not very experienced, and Jaimy sighed as he tumbled off. The filly, seeing her opportunity, moved quickly towards the track entrance, but Jaimy was quicker. He lunged out and grabbed the wretched horses reins, stopping her in her tracks. She pulled, but stopped, and stood, sulkily chewing the bit.

"Not so fast, precious," he said smoothly to the horse. She stared defiantly back. He turned to the jockey that had leaped to his feet. "You alright?" he asked. The jockey muttered a reply, and Jaimy gave him a leg up back onto the bristling filly. This time she behaved herself. The other two horses were behaving much better. Mayhem's Texas Flamethrower seemed hyper, and The Blackbirds Call seemed asleep. Jaimy almost laughed, as Blackbird yawned widely. Jaimy stopped as they stepped out onto the track, surveying his riders. He inhaled, readying himself for his speech he had prepared that morning already.

"Alright, you," he said to Gem's rider. " Take it easy with her, she's new, just four furlings breeze her to the last two furlongs and then you can ask her for a little more alright? Not full out." The rider nodded and picked up a trot and turned right. Then, Jaimy turned to Texas and Blackbirds' riders. "They are partners. I want a six furlong, fairly steady workout. Take it easy till the last three furlongs, then I want you to try and beat each other, okay? Nice and easy till then." The two riders both nodded and turned to follow Gem.

He watched Gem first, raising his binoculars to watch the filly pick up a canter. She had a nice gait, and moved swiftly; too quick, it appeared her jockey was having troubles. By the time they were at the half mile pole, the pair was galloping quickly, faster than the light breeze they were supposed to be doing. Jaimy quickly scanned to his other two horses, who were countering each other quite well. They were both galloping slowly. Now, he turned to see Gem, coming full tilt down the homestretch. Jaimy frowned as she thundered past, and shook his head. He needed to find a jockey that could handle his filly. Then, he saw the other two coming. He grinned, as they thundered by, Blackbird with a good two lengths on her partner. He loved that horse.

Jaimy waited for the horses to return, and sighed. He really needed some new riders.

tags; open!
muse; pretty good

[Anthony James Lovasz]

This was no classy show of an equine's ability to preform. It wasn't a horse showing off because he knew he was good. It was by no means intentional... at all. This was a fiery display of the high strung, temperamental, strong willed, and irritable character of a thoroughbred racehorse. The tall bay snorted angrily, his hooves barely touching the earth before lifting off again. It was a familiar dance to those who were regulars at horse races. There was hardly a racehorse in existence who hadn't done it several times, and "Cowboy Casanova" was no exception. At four years old, he was as wild and high spirited as any thoroughbred, and the last thing he wanted to do was listen to the rider on his back. Were the reins not held so tightly that he was prevented from lowering his head, he would have unseated his rider a long time ago with a sharp and unforgiving buck.

As it were, he was forced to keep down at a walk, though it was a very high strung walk. Finally the horse had reached his wit's end, and his front hooves lifted off the ground and a fierce whinny blasted from his mouth. Ever calm, and expectant, his rider gave a quick pull to the left, unsettling the horse's balance and forcing him to go back down on all fours or risk falling over onto his side. The animal was far less than pleased with the situation, but before he could try anything else, he was being turned in a tight circle, preventing him from attempting another stunt like the one he had just pulled. With an irritated snort he yielded and came to a stop, though he was clearly quite unhappy with this, and made it known by pinning his ears angrily.

His rider was so calm and collected about the situation you would think he was just riding around on an old cow pony that had been retired from work years ago. This was definitely not the first time he'd ridden a horse that was prone to such disruptive temper tantrums. Unlike most jockeys though, there was no crop in his hand, and never would be. A few years ago, everyone knew him by his signature "salute" to the rider his horse was beside when he felt the horse turn over another gear that would power him to the lead, and by the fact that he never carried a whip when he rode. He had nothing against them, and was fine with other riders using them and didn't think they were cruel or anything of the sort... he just didn't need one. He would never just ride a horse in a race, he had to be its sole rider for at least two weeks before the race, preferably more. He liked to be able to figure out what the horse would respond to without a crop before the race and work on refining those responses.

Once he had reined in the horse and had him standing on all four hooves again, he waited a moment, then gave him a half inch of rein, letting him walk forward. The horse had all the skill in the world when it came to speed and stamina, but he had absolutely no manners and rarely respected his riders in the past, Anthony was determined to fix that. After all, what good was a horse that was totally out of control, no matter what the sort of speed he had. Restraining the horse to a walk was no easy task, and Anthony could feel the ache in his left shoulder and right arm already, and they hadn't even started their run yet. The more the horse relaxed and listened, the more rein the jockey gave him. When he fought the hold, Anthony only tightened the rein more. It was the never ending game of tit for tat.

Finally, when he had the horse responding well, he let him have what he wanted and moved him in to the inside rail and let him go. Cass, as he was called around the stable, was so eager to out and gallop that he practically leaped into the air and took off in massive bounds, covering the ground quickly. A few furlongs flashed past, and Anthony regathered his reins, starting the long, painful and exhausting task of slowing the horse down again. Cass fought diligently at first, but after a short distance gave in to the pull and started slowing down very slowly. By the time they had circle the track, they were back at the outside rail and had returned to the walk. Once at the entrance to the track, Anthony stopped the sweaty, foam flecked horse and dismounted, leading him off the track.

As they walked out, their path brought them near to one of the trainers watching his horses work. Quite the filly you've got there. He said to the trainer. Most no one ever expected such a thick Spanish accent from Anthony since he didn't look Hispanic in any way, but it is what it is. It would normally be assumed that his compliment was in regards to the filly that had just won the "mock race," but he was referring to the one that was running away with her rider. For whatever reason, Anthony tended to be attracted to the problem horses... the ones that everyone wanted to ride because they were so fast and talented... but at the same time no one really wanted to ride them because they knew the horse would give them hell. It was most likely because those were the sorts of horses he started on down in Mexico... the ones that nearly killed him on a regular basis and earned him the nickname "cucuracha." No matter how many of those horses from hell threw him, bit him, kicked him, trampled him... he just wouldn't lie down and die... or give up on them. Slightly insane? Yes, but what jockey isn't?

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[jaimy]

Jaimy turned to watch the pair gallop past. The horse was hot, that much was certain. However, the jockey was handling the horse quite well. Jaimy noticed the rider did not have a whip with him, and he found himself surprised, and not at the same time. What was surprising was that it seemed so natural to carry a stick; to help with a lead change, get a little speed, or even to discipline, yet he had nothing with him. What did not surprise him, was that it seemed like the horse would probably flip over at the touch of a stick.

He looked up to see his horses returning, and watched Gem's rider with a frown. He looked at him, his eyes asking him sternly for an explanation. The rider seemed embarrassed, but was ready to defend himself. "Little bugger just didn't feel like stopping," he mumbled. Jaimy raised his eyebrows. The man was fairly young, and strong; a little tall, but he was just an exercise rider. He was much bigger than the man riding the insane looking stallion. He walked over, and pointed at the pair.

"Do you see that?" he said. Gem's rider looked. "That is what you call control. That horse is twice as bad as Gem here, and that rider is smaller than you are." he said sternly. The rider glared at him, dismounted and walked away without another word. The other two riders dismounted. Jaimy turned his attention to them, and smiled. "Nice work you two, thanks a bunch, how did they feel?" he asked. Blackbird's rider spoke up first. "She's quite the horse," he said. "I had some trouble getting a good gallop, but man, when we turned for home..." He made a little rocket noise and flicked his finger. Jaimy snorted with laughter.

"Texas felt good, hot, as usual. A little stiff on the right lead," he said gruffly. Jaimy nodded, and the two riders left. A groom came up and took hold of Gem's bridle, leading the filly with some difficulty. When the jockey spoke, Jaimy was a little startled. He turned, and saw him watching Gem. Jaimy smirked at his comment. "Yes, little miss pro tantrum thrower," he said. "But heck, she's not so bad, I'm sure a guy like you could handle her." He smiled. So, would the kid take his invitation? He would have to see.

muse; good
notes; hmmmm

[Anthony James Lovasz]

There was nothing quite so surreal as a jockey's first race... especially when it's a jockey like Anthony Lovasz. He'd been racing horses in Mexico since he was 15, and had been riding since he was about 10, the track was his life, and at 18, his first race was no small claimer. Most jockeys wouldn't see the turf of Pimlico until they were in their late twenties, but Anthony just seemed to have some sort of... well it just couldn't really be described. His talent was far advanced beyond any jockey at 18 ever had been, and not only that, but he seemed to bring out the best in every horse he rode. He never carried a crop simply because he didn't need it. He had nothing against the use of a crop, but why carry one when you're not going to use it at all?

He settled in, wrapping his hand in the horse's mane, and keeping a firm grip on the reins. He knew this horse was going to try to take the lead, but he couldn't handle being the pace setter for the length of this race. He was so focused on the horse beneath him that he didn't hear the taunting "bug boy" comments from the other riders trying to syke him out. He was concentrating far too hard to hear anything at all. Then the gates burst open, and the horses leaped forwards in what seemed to Anthony to be slow motion. Within a few strides everyone had settled in for the long haul. Trouble was, Anthony and his mount were running mid pack, boxed in. It didn't seem like there was going to be any moving forwards at all for a while. Still, he kept focused on his horse and any openings that might come ahead of him.

When there were only a few furlongs left in the race, Anthony gave up on waiting and slowly started easing his horse outwards, the horse beside them naturally easing out a bit too. This cause just enough of a break between horses for Anthony to start moving his mount up. Of course, he was still moving outwards to get around the wall of horses in front of him, and this put him out in the middle of the track about six wide, but he didn't seem to notice, and once they were clear of the wall, and no one was directly in front of them, he let the reins slip through his fingers. He felt the horse seize the bit in it's teeth, and he couldn't help but smile slightly despite himself. He glanced at the rider next to him, and lifted one hand in a salute, then let the horse have his head. Seeming to find a whole new gear, the thoroughbred leaped forward like a bullet shot out of a gun, and started catapulting past horses like they were standing still.

Despite the huge distance on the turn that they had to run, the horse moved from about sixth to third in a matter of seconds, with three furlongs left, Anthony asked the horse for just a little more, and he got just what he asked for, and soon he found the air in front of him completely clear as they flashed past the finish line half a length ahead of the rest of the horses. After galloping the horse out and bringing him down to a canter where the pony rider caught up with him to escort them to the winner's circle, Anthony glanced at the other jockeys, some of whom were smiling and taking the loss well, and others who were scowling at him. He just grinned as usual and didn't let any of it get to him. He was good at what he did, but he wasn't going to gloat about it.

After that race, the salute became a sort of signature of Anthony. When he felt a horse take the bit and knew there was no way the horse was going to lose, he would salute the other rider almost like he was saying "see ya later" and let the horse go. Soon it became something the other riders would look for when they were in a race with him. Sure, they all still tried their best, but without fail, every time there was the salute, he would be taking his horse to the winner's circle. It didn't happen every race he rode in though... on occasion he just didn't feel it, and there would be no salute. In those races, his horse normally didn't win or else barely won and was having a hard time with it. His ability to read horses was as quoted by Mr. Fently "out of this world and was going to take him to great heights in the sport." He couldn't have been more right.

Now here Anthony was, years later, having gone through two horrible accidents that brought a tragic end to his racing career for the time being. Many speculated that it would be the end of his career for forever, but those who presumed that were the ones who didn't know Anthony at all. Broken bones and drug withdrawals would never stop him from riding again. He had proved that already. Anthony was the kind of guy who took expectations that would tie him down and completely destroyed them. After the first accident people said he wouldn't get up, that he wouldn't ever ride again... but he got up, walked away, and was up on a horse again shortly after. After his second accident people said he wouldn't ride again, that the withdrawals would beat him. But he got up on a horse again. After everything he had gone through, you would think he would be smart enough to give up and stop hurting himself, but that just wasn't his style.

You put a lot of faith in a first impression. Anthony said in response to the trainer's statement. He wasn't sure if that was an invitation, a challenge, or just a casual comment, and didn't want to make any improper assumptions. He hadn't been in Addison for very long and hadn't seen the trainer around, so he was sure that unless he recognized him from those years when he was one of the "big name" jockeys before he got hurt, this had to be the first time he'd seen him. Most trainers liked to study the jockeys and get to know them a bit before offering them a ride on their horse... but maybe this guy was one to take people for what they were worth at first glance. Of course, Anthony wouldn't turn down a ride if offered, he just found this slightly curious.

Nova seemed to have settled down quite a bit since expending so much energy on fighting Anthony and that made the jockey's job here a lot easier. After all, having a casual conversation with someone when the horse you were handling was throwing a temper tantrum wasn't as easy as it sounded, especially when the horse was a young thoroughbred racer. People were often skeptical of Anthony and his apparent insanity, but no one could deny that the guy had skill. After all, if he could control a horse like Nova in a situation like that with his lower left arm and his right shoulder in a brace and the excruciating pain that entailed, just imagine what he could do if he wasn't so... broken. Surely, he would be on top of the horse racing world.

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[hossluver]

sorry for the delay!! i've been very busy as of late....I'll try and get it up soon

[jaimy]

So, he was careful. Cautious. Jaimy liked seeing that in a jockey, or even just an exercise rider. He would love to see him ride Gem, see how he handled her, but he had to be cautious as well. He would be willing to take a chance on this young, very experienced jockey, but he had to be cautious himself. It wasn't normally like him to jump out on first impressions, which was a curious thing to do. Jaimy would admit it, it probably wasn't the best, but for the moment, it seemed as though he was an excellent rider, and seemed interested in his horse.

Jaimy smiled wryly at his response. "Well, when your horse is getting exercised about twice a week, and the rider you hired can't seem to control her to get a decent workout in, it doesn't leave you much time for any other impressions." he said matter o' factly. It had been a rough start to the season so far. His horses were lacking in training and exercise, and he really just needed a few good riders. One or two would suffice. "All I'm saying is that if you need to make some money, I could use an rider for this horse."

muse; bleg
notes; uggg, sorry its so baddddddddd