That Summer (33 page)

We posed in front of the barn and at the last minute, Buster obliged by poking his head out of his stall door.

“That horse is such a ham,” John said. “I can't believe it. I swear, he knows there's a picture being taken.”

We all laughed and the photographer got a merry threesome with a beautiful thoroughbred looking on, ears pricked, eyes curious. You would never in a million years think that we were on the brink of the biggest race of his young life.

The photographer put down his camera and Buster disappeared back inside his stall.

Liam shook his head. “He really is a ham.”

“No question about it,” John said.

Liam had picked up the newspapers at the coffee shop and now we sat down on chairs in front of Buster's stall and read what the pundits had to say about the race.

I read
Newsday
first, a column by Andrew House.

“The American Triple Crown is not just difficult to win, at times it seems almost impossible. Since 1978 nine horses have reached the threshold, with wins in the Derby and the Preakness: Spectacular Bid, Pleasant Colony, Alysheba, Sunday Silence, Silver Charm, Real Quiet, Charismatic, and War Emblem, and Funny Cide, only to be defeated by the interminable Belmont. Will Someday Soon be able to break this curse and come home a winner today? I'd like to think he will, but I have my doubts.

In both the Derby and the Preakness he was the benefactor of a blistering front pace that burned out his competitors and left the field open for a come-from-behind specialist like himself. But the Belmont has added two other specialists like this: Solomon's Riddle and Star Beta. And both of these horses are more rested than Someday Soon, who is coming off the punishing double of the Derby and the Preakness in five weeks. And Solomon's Riddle has proven he can go a mile and a half; something no American three-year-old has yet done.

The Belmont looks to be a very different race from the Derby or the Preakness. When Someday Soon makes his move this time, he'll have company. My money is on the Irish horse to win. I think we're going to have to wait for another year to have a Triple Crown winner.

Part of me was furiously indignant at what House had to say about Buster and part of me was scared that he was right. I said to Liam, “This guy from
Newsday
is picking the Irish horse.”

“The
Times
is going with Buster,” he replied.

I was very glad to hear that. It made me feel better to know that such a bastion of respectability was behind us.

“The hell with the newspapers,” Liam said. “Let's go for a walk.”

We wandered around as the crowds streamed in. By the time the first race started, people packed the grandstands, the lawn by the rail at the final turn, the clubhouse and the paddock.

We had lunch in the restaurant—Liam never misses a meal— and went back down to the stakes barn to be with Buster. TV cameras were everywhere, as reporters tried to get interviews with trainers and jockeys and owners.

The day had started out sunny but it became progressively more overcast as the afternoon went on.

“I hope it doesn't rain,” Liam said for perhaps the tenth time.

“Rain wasn't in the forecast.” I made the same reply I had been making all afternoon.

Finally it was time to move to the paddock. Buster's groom, Henry, and John took hold of his bridle and led him out of his stall, past the police barricades. Liam and I followed, the security guards trailing us, and we started the walk toward the paddock, where we would saddle up. The reporters came behind and cameramen raced ahead, maneuvering their equipment to get a shot of Buster as he was led forward.

When we reached the paddock area we led Buster into stall six. There was a fence in front of the stall and the area behind the fence was packed with people who had come to watch the potential Triple Crown champion be saddled.

The clerk of scales called the riders for weigh-in, and they went one at a time. When Miles Santos, Buster's jockey, stepped on the scale, his valet handed him his saddle and cloth. The clerk noted the weight. “He needs a pound,” he said, and a lead pad was tucked into Miles’ saddle to bring the weight up to level.

Then Miles brought the saddle over to Buster's stall and John saddled him up.

“He looks wonderful,” I said to Liam.

He did. He knew what was coming and he was tossing his head, eager to be out of the stall, eager to be out on the track and running.

John was talking to Miles Santos. “Just don't let him get buried too far behind. He's had stamina built into him. Put him in a place to run and he'll do the rest.”

The bugler blew the call to the post and the grooms led the horses into the walking ring. John gave Miles a leg up and the horses paraded once around the ring. My eyes went to Solomon's Riddle.

He was a magnificent-looking animal, a huge red horse with powerful muscles. He looked like he could run all day and all night. I swallowed and looked back at Buster. He was shaking his head up and down. He wanted to run. “Good boy,” I whispered. “Good boy.”

“Come on,” Liam said. “Let's get to our seats.”

We got back to our seats just as the horses were coming out of the tunnel onto the track. The minute the first horse, Honor Bright, put his foot on the track, the sun broke through the clouds and shone brightly on his bay coat. The crowd roared.

One by one the rest of the field appeared on the track and were taken up by their lead ponies. Then, as they began to walk down the field, a Broadway actress sang “New York, New York.”

Buster was behaving very well, and when he began to canter he went quietly along with his lead pony. As the horses galloped up the field past the final turn to warm up, a maintenance worker drove the starting gate onto the course right in front of the grandstand.

Belmont racecourse was a full mile and a half around and the horses would make one full circle of the oval to complete the race.

At the top of the turn, the horses turned and began to come back down toward the starting gate where the starter and his assistants awaited them. The noise of the crowd was deafening.

Take it Easy with Shane Sellers aboard wearing red and green silks went in first on the rail. The rear door closed behind him. Next to load was Point Taken, with Gary Stevens aboard.

The noise of the crowd was painful. I shouted to Liam, “How can the starters even hear each other?”

He shrugged.

Risky Business went into the gate next. Then came Solomon's Riddle. The big red colt tried to back up when the assistant starters came for him, but when they grabbed him he came forward and let himself be loaded. Buster was in the post position next to Solomon's Riddle and we could see the bright royal blue and white silks of Miles Santos as our boy went quietly into his slot and had the door closed on him

Finally all the horses were in the gate. I could feel my heart thumping inside my chest in the brief seconds while we waited for the starter to send them off. Then the bell rang and the gate sprang open and the horses lunged forward together.

The crowd, impossibly, became even louder.

The field stayed close together as they passed the clubhouse stands for the first time, then as they went around the clubhouse turn the horses began to differentiate themselves. Runforyourmoney with Jose Velazquez aboard took the lead, followed closely by Take It Easy. A little bit back off the pace were Honor Bright and Point Taken. Then, running easily, side by side across the track were Buster, Solomon's Riddle and Star Beta.

“He's in good position,” John shouted to Liam. “As long as Miles doesn't fire him too soon.”

Down the backstretch they ran, at the far side of the oval, away from the noise of the crowd. I lifted my binoculars and looked at Buster. He was running under a hold from Miles, but Solomon's Riddle was under a hold too. Both jockeys were waiting to make their move.

At the mile mark Runforyourmoney faded from first place and Take It Easy took over. Honor Bright and Point Taken moved closer to the front. A few more strides and Honor Bright had the lead; Take It Easy began to fade.

The horses hit the final turn and Buster began to make his move. So did Solomon's Riddle and Star Beta. Buster and Solomon's Riddle, who had been running side by side, moved as one as they accelerated on the outside of the track. Star Beta made his move on the inside.

“Here he comes!” Liam said.

No one who saw that Belmont Stakes will ever forget it. Buster and Solomon's Riddle came off the turn and galloped straight into the wall of sound of the crowd. They caught and passed Runforyourmoney and Take It Easy. They had now run the distance of the Kentucky Derby but had a full quarter-mile to go.

The two horses, running like mirror images, passed Point Taken and Honor Bright and were now out in front of the track, with nothing in front of them but the finish line. Side by side they ran, head to head, shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye.

“Jesus!” Liam screamed. “It's like Affirmed and Aly-dar all over again!”

Then, as the finish line approached, one nose poked out in front of the other, then a half a head. Then they were across the finish line and sweeping along in front of us, and the crowd went absolutely manic.

When I watched a rerun on TV later that night all the announcer could do was scream hysterically, “We have a Triple Crown winner! We have a Triple Crown winner!”

Liam and I were hugging each other and pounding each other on the back and jumping up and down.

“He did it! He did it! He did it!”

Then John and Liam were hugging and Lorraine and I were doing a kind of a jig.

Security men appeared in the box to escort us down to the winner's circle.

Liam and I held hands as we made our way through the crowds. The first thing Liam did when we got into the winner's box was go up to Buster and kiss him.

I patted his sweaty neck.

Liam shook Miles’ hand. “Good job.”

The reporters had surrounded John and were bombarding him with questions.

A TV camera appeared in front of us. “How does it feel to have a Triple Crown winner, Mr. Wellington?” a reporter asked, holding a microphone to Liam's face.

Liam shook his head. “I'm still in a state of shock, I think.”

“You bred Someday Soon, didn't you?”

“I was there when he was born,” Liam replied.

“Wow. This must be really exciting then.”

“It surely is.”

They were calling Liam over for the trophy presentation. Cameras flashed. TV cameras rolled. Buster posed with his blanket of flowers. The crowd was somewhat quiet.

Then the president of Visa got up to present the check for the five-million-dollar Visa Triple Crown match prize.

Liam looked dazed as he accepted the money. We had talked about it, but actually to have it in his hand seemed unbelievable. The whole thing seemed unbelievable.

Buster had won the Triple Crown.

John said, “Let's get him back to the stable.”

Henry began to lead Buster out of the winner's circle, preceded by a phalanx of security men. He skittered a little as he went, scattering the press who had been behind him.

We crossed back through the tunnel to the paddock area and from there to the stakes barn, where the police barricade was still in place. There Henry gave Buster a bath and turned him over to one of the hot walkers to walk him until he was cooled off. Then John and Lorraine and Liam and I trundled off to the press conference that had been arranged by the track.

When the press had finally finished asking their questions, we all went back to Buster's stall, took beers from a cooler and sat down on bales of hay to toast each other.

“That was the most unbelievable race,” John said.

“It was like a replay of Affirmed and Alydar,” Liam said.

“Buster just had the bigger heart,” I said.

John took a swallow of his beer and nodded slowly. “I think so. They were eye to eye and Buster just wouldn't give up.”

“He reached deep,” Liam said.

“Yes,” John said. “He did.”

“It's still hard to believe, though,” Liam said. “My little Buster has won the Triple Crown.”

“It's going to be crazy around here,” John said. “What do you want to do with him? He needs a break from racing for a while.”

“We'll ship him home to Virginia for a month or so. He can relax out at pasture for a while.”

“Good. We'll aim to have him ready for the Saratoga session.”

We talked for half an hour while Buster ate his hay and occasionally popped his head over his stall door to see what we were doing. Liam gave him a Mrs. Pasture's cookie.

We made a date to have dinner with John and Lorraine and then got in the car to go back to our hotel. We didn't say much on the ride home; it seemed that everything had been said already. When Liam let us into our hotel room, we just stood there for a moment, facing each other. Then Liam whooped and grabbed for me. I started to laugh. He waltzed me around the room, bumping into furniture on our way.

“We won, we won, we won,” he chanted as we swirled around.

“Buster is the best horse in the whole world,” I said.

“He is.” He stopped waltzing and regarded me solemnly. “He was smaller and lighter than that other horse, but he wouldn't give up. He just wouldn't be beaten.”

“He has the heart of a lion.”

“I'm so proud of him.”

“You should be.”

He smoothed his hand over the jacket of my pink suit and smiled. “You may have to wear this suit for the rest of his racing career.”

“I don't think this suit has anything to do with Buster's winning.”

He looked alarmed. “Does that mean you won't wear it any more?”

I laughed. “I'll wear it if you want, but I truly think Buster can take care of business without my pink suit.”

“It's best not to change anything,” Liam said.

I shook my head. “I can't believe how superstitious you are.”

“I don't believe in messing with a winning combination.”

I slid my arms out of the jacket. “Well, I have no intention of wearing this suit out to dinner. Do you want to take a shower first or can I?”

“I have something else that I'd like to do first.”