Post by Anthony James Lovasz on Feb 23, 2011 18:24:30 GMT -8
Thunder. It rolled with such tremendous power that the earth shook as if it were going to open up and swallow all life. But the sun was shining brightly, not a could in site... and that meant it could only possibly be one thing making such a surge of electricity in the air. Horses. Down they came, 'round the turn and into the home stretch, straining with the effort to drive to the front. Chestnuts mixed with blacks, grays, and bays, all of them creating a picturesque abstract image of the very essence of a racehorse. Astride each was a jockey dressed in brightly colored silks, perched perilously atop the charging beasts. They were said to be the bravest sort of men, balancing so carefully on inch wide metal strips, restraining the bursting power of the animal beneath them as they catapulted down the track at 45 mph, almost certain death awaiting them should they fall.
The horses stretched themselves out into full gallops, fighting with everything they had to take the lead. Two ran neck and neck for a few strides before the smaller gray head bobbed out in front, followed by the neck, then shoulders. The finish line flashed by, but before anyone could react to the dramatic come behind and one of the biggest upsets in the history of the Santa Anita, a horrible screech blasted out from the second place horse and he leached sideways into the winning stallion, sending the other pair crashing through the rail. The jockey heard the crack of breaking bone before he felt the pain that seared up through his arm, followed shortly by pain from everywhere else as the 1,200 pound animal rolled over top of him. As the horse's body crushed the jockey's chest, he felt like all the oxygen was just sucked out of the universe and he was lying there suffocating. Luckily, he had managed to get his feet out of the stirrups before going down, and as the horse jumped back up onto his feet, he left his rider lying there in pain.
He felt like everything was just starting to fade out, going out of focus. The voices were getting quieter, the pain was beginning to dull, and quite suddenly, the choppy ground where he lay felt much more comfortable than it had before. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let the unconsciousness have him. Somehow though, everything was still registering in his subconsciousness, and after only a few moments had passed all the voices and sirens and panic burst into his mind, and his mind screamed at him to come back and stop all the doctors from doing whatever it was they were doing to him. His eyes opened again with a jolt as all the pain came rushing back and his lungs filled with air once again, and instinctively, he reached out and stopped the EMT's hand from coming any nearer. He knew in that hand there was a syringe filled with whatever sort of drug they felt was needed, and that was the last thing he wanted them doing.
They had managed, already, to get a brace on his left arm, and had surveyed the damage enough to know that he had broken his arm just above his wrist, had a good sized gash on his left lower leg, had at least two broken ribs, probably a concussion, and a lot of bruising. Don't The jockey nearly growled, a tone that was uncharacteristically serious for the 20 year old. He pushed the doctor away, and sat up slowly, ignoring all of the gasps and pleas of the EMT's. He shifted, and slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, knowing much better than to stand quickly. His vision still hadn't returned to it's normal state, but he could see well enough. When he pushed through the crowd of track officials, media, and medical teams and grabbed the horse's reins from the frantic handler trying to control the panicking horse, a cheer went up from the crowd, but he didn't hear it. He was in a lot of pain, and knew he probably should have let the doctors take care of him... but that wasn't his style.
As soon as they were back down to the stable area a groom, and the horse's regular handler came rushing out to take the horse off Anthony's hands, and someone else... he was guessing the trainer... hurried over to help Anthony to somewhere to sit before he passed out. I'm fine he muttered before anyone had the chance to ask, though he clearly wasn't. He was currently going through a bit of shock from the accident, and the pain was making it worse. He looked pretty good all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. There was a bit of a comotion outside the stable, and he could see security guards reinforcing the blockade to keep the press out. Neither horse nor jockey needed those people around asking questions and taking pictures. They'd been hurt, it was a normal part of being in the horse racing world... people and horses got in accidents, and life went on.
The tell-tale feeling of bone grinding against bone followed by a rather unpleasant pop and pain. It was a feeling Anthony Lovasz was all too used to. Even as many times as he'd been thrown, landing even just slightly on that shoulder always ended in a dislocation. He took a moment to catch his breath, then sat up slowly, and snapped his shoulder back into it's proper position. Yeah, it hurt like hell... but he'd done it so many times, he hardly flinched anymore. Like any jockey, he was a mess of fractured bones, torn ligaments, stretched tendons, and any number of other problems caused by the perilous life he had submitted him to when he was only 13 years old. Once he had gotten his arm back in it's appropriate place, he headed across the track and over to where one of the outriders had caught the horse for him and was waiting.
I'm not as young as I used to be Nova. he said as he grabbed the horse's reins with his left, still braced arm and giving a nod of thanks to the outrider. Even now, 3 years later, he still wore the brace to cut back on the pain. He knew it hadn't healed properly back when he was 20 and he and Doubt went through the rail, but it was mostly just an inconvenience now, the same as his shoulder being so easily torn from its socket. Normally Anthony was a huge proponent of getting back up on the horse after falling, but when the horse was Nova and you'd just injured yourself somehow, it was probably wiser to stay on the ground than get back up on the horse. He could certainly give his rider a hell of a time trying to ride him, and Anthony knew better than to try to control him with only one arm.
When they arrived back at the stable, Anthony clipped the horse in the cross ties and set about removing the tack from the sweaty animal. He had managed to get a decent workout in before the horse exploded. They were making progress, but Anthony still expected to be thrown at least once during the week. It wasn't that he was a bad rider... certainly not, he was a superb rider, and everyone who knew him knew it was true... but with your stirrups up so high like they always were for jockeys, and a horse that could move like a rodeo bronc... even the best rider in the world would hit the dirt when Nova decided to have a temper tantrum. He was just so quick and agile, and incredibly unpredictable. He could appear perfectly fine, running on a nice open gallop, changing leads and listening to his rider like a fine gentleman, and the next moment you'd find yourself without a horse as you hit the ground and the horse took off.
For a moment, Anthony completely forgot that he'd dislocated his shoulder, and without even thinking about it reached up to pull the saddle off of the horse using his right arm. The pain was quick to remind him though, and he winced painfully, and moved his arm back down to it's normal position. Nova turned his head and looked over at Anthony as if trying to figure out what he was doing just standing there instead of getting on with it. Anthony just smiled and patted the horse's neck with his left hand. This is your fault you know. he said to the horse, You're the only horse that's thrown me in the past six months, you need to get in on the deal. Nova just shifted his weight lazily, his appearance suggesting an old retired trail horse rather than a training racehorse. He was always much more calm and relaxed after a workout, a definite welcome change from the fiery pain in the neck he was before expending all his energy.
The horses stretched themselves out into full gallops, fighting with everything they had to take the lead. Two ran neck and neck for a few strides before the smaller gray head bobbed out in front, followed by the neck, then shoulders. The finish line flashed by, but before anyone could react to the dramatic come behind and one of the biggest upsets in the history of the Santa Anita, a horrible screech blasted out from the second place horse and he leached sideways into the winning stallion, sending the other pair crashing through the rail. The jockey heard the crack of breaking bone before he felt the pain that seared up through his arm, followed shortly by pain from everywhere else as the 1,200 pound animal rolled over top of him. As the horse's body crushed the jockey's chest, he felt like all the oxygen was just sucked out of the universe and he was lying there suffocating. Luckily, he had managed to get his feet out of the stirrups before going down, and as the horse jumped back up onto his feet, he left his rider lying there in pain.
He felt like everything was just starting to fade out, going out of focus. The voices were getting quieter, the pain was beginning to dull, and quite suddenly, the choppy ground where he lay felt much more comfortable than it had before. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let the unconsciousness have him. Somehow though, everything was still registering in his subconsciousness, and after only a few moments had passed all the voices and sirens and panic burst into his mind, and his mind screamed at him to come back and stop all the doctors from doing whatever it was they were doing to him. His eyes opened again with a jolt as all the pain came rushing back and his lungs filled with air once again, and instinctively, he reached out and stopped the EMT's hand from coming any nearer. He knew in that hand there was a syringe filled with whatever sort of drug they felt was needed, and that was the last thing he wanted them doing.
They had managed, already, to get a brace on his left arm, and had surveyed the damage enough to know that he had broken his arm just above his wrist, had a good sized gash on his left lower leg, had at least two broken ribs, probably a concussion, and a lot of bruising. Don't The jockey nearly growled, a tone that was uncharacteristically serious for the 20 year old. He pushed the doctor away, and sat up slowly, ignoring all of the gasps and pleas of the EMT's. He shifted, and slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, knowing much better than to stand quickly. His vision still hadn't returned to it's normal state, but he could see well enough. When he pushed through the crowd of track officials, media, and medical teams and grabbed the horse's reins from the frantic handler trying to control the panicking horse, a cheer went up from the crowd, but he didn't hear it. He was in a lot of pain, and knew he probably should have let the doctors take care of him... but that wasn't his style.
As soon as they were back down to the stable area a groom, and the horse's regular handler came rushing out to take the horse off Anthony's hands, and someone else... he was guessing the trainer... hurried over to help Anthony to somewhere to sit before he passed out. I'm fine he muttered before anyone had the chance to ask, though he clearly wasn't. He was currently going through a bit of shock from the accident, and the pain was making it worse. He looked pretty good all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. There was a bit of a comotion outside the stable, and he could see security guards reinforcing the blockade to keep the press out. Neither horse nor jockey needed those people around asking questions and taking pictures. They'd been hurt, it was a normal part of being in the horse racing world... people and horses got in accidents, and life went on.
The tell-tale feeling of bone grinding against bone followed by a rather unpleasant pop and pain. It was a feeling Anthony Lovasz was all too used to. Even as many times as he'd been thrown, landing even just slightly on that shoulder always ended in a dislocation. He took a moment to catch his breath, then sat up slowly, and snapped his shoulder back into it's proper position. Yeah, it hurt like hell... but he'd done it so many times, he hardly flinched anymore. Like any jockey, he was a mess of fractured bones, torn ligaments, stretched tendons, and any number of other problems caused by the perilous life he had submitted him to when he was only 13 years old. Once he had gotten his arm back in it's appropriate place, he headed across the track and over to where one of the outriders had caught the horse for him and was waiting.
I'm not as young as I used to be Nova. he said as he grabbed the horse's reins with his left, still braced arm and giving a nod of thanks to the outrider. Even now, 3 years later, he still wore the brace to cut back on the pain. He knew it hadn't healed properly back when he was 20 and he and Doubt went through the rail, but it was mostly just an inconvenience now, the same as his shoulder being so easily torn from its socket. Normally Anthony was a huge proponent of getting back up on the horse after falling, but when the horse was Nova and you'd just injured yourself somehow, it was probably wiser to stay on the ground than get back up on the horse. He could certainly give his rider a hell of a time trying to ride him, and Anthony knew better than to try to control him with only one arm.
When they arrived back at the stable, Anthony clipped the horse in the cross ties and set about removing the tack from the sweaty animal. He had managed to get a decent workout in before the horse exploded. They were making progress, but Anthony still expected to be thrown at least once during the week. It wasn't that he was a bad rider... certainly not, he was a superb rider, and everyone who knew him knew it was true... but with your stirrups up so high like they always were for jockeys, and a horse that could move like a rodeo bronc... even the best rider in the world would hit the dirt when Nova decided to have a temper tantrum. He was just so quick and agile, and incredibly unpredictable. He could appear perfectly fine, running on a nice open gallop, changing leads and listening to his rider like a fine gentleman, and the next moment you'd find yourself without a horse as you hit the ground and the horse took off.
For a moment, Anthony completely forgot that he'd dislocated his shoulder, and without even thinking about it reached up to pull the saddle off of the horse using his right arm. The pain was quick to remind him though, and he winced painfully, and moved his arm back down to it's normal position. Nova turned his head and looked over at Anthony as if trying to figure out what he was doing just standing there instead of getting on with it. Anthony just smiled and patted the horse's neck with his left hand. This is your fault you know. he said to the horse, You're the only horse that's thrown me in the past six months, you need to get in on the deal. Nova just shifted his weight lazily, his appearance suggesting an old retired trail horse rather than a training racehorse. He was always much more calm and relaxed after a workout, a definite welcome change from the fiery pain in the neck he was before expending all his energy.