Man O'War (32 page)

The next few days were easy ones for Man o' War. He did nothing but loaf in his stall and go for long walks about the stable area. Everywhere Danny took him people followed … other grooms and trainers, owners and their guests, photographers and reporters.

Man o' War's favorite spot was beneath a towering shade tree. While the colt grazed, Danny listened to the comments of the men gathered around them.

“He's the greatest horse we've ever had,” an aged newspaper columnist said. “He's even greater than Hindoo, Salvator, Sysonby, and Colin!”

The trainers and owners were silent after the man's hero-worshiping outburst. Danny knew that while they might agree with the columnist, their quiet homage was more revealing than the other's lofty claims.

The shutters of the photographers' cameras clicked and the old newsman went on, “Maybe you couldn't say he was the
greatest
before the Dwyer. He had things pretty much his own way until that race. But when Grier stayed with him for over a full mile, even heading him in the stretch run, he had to
prove
his gameness. He just had to. And that he did, despite the fact that he was giving Grier eighteen pounds in the weights. Any other champion, if he was only a front runner, would have quit right then. So that's why I'm telling my readers that Man o' War is the greatest of all time.”

The columnist turned to the professional horsemen in the group, awaiting their reaction to his heated, enthusiastic comments. But the eyes of the trainers never left Man o' War, and they remained silent.

“
Everybody
who saw the race feels the same way,” the old man added. “
Everybody.
”

Danny chewed thoughtfully on a blade of grass. If this man thought he was going to get the trainers to give any statements as to Man o' War's supremacy, he was mistaken. Their comments would best be noted in what horses they sent to the post
against
Man o' War in forthcoming races. If they refused to race their colts against him, that would be their answer.

“Maybe you fellows don't think he's met horses of real class?” the newsman asked. “Well, let me tell you that I've been covering races for over twenty-five years and it's Man o' War's supreme speed that has made the others seem weak. John P. Grier would have been a champion three-year-old any year but this one. Upset, On Watch, Wildair, Paul Jones, and Blazes are all top-class horses and stakes winners once they get away from Man o' War. Make no mistake about that. It's true as anything could be, and you all know it as well as I do!”

Finally one of the trainers turned to the columnist. “All right, John,” he said quietly, “you've made your point.”

The days went quickly by, one very much like the other, while Man o' War rested and loafed. Mr. Riddle decided not to enter him in any further races in New York and toward the last of June shipped his stable to Saratoga. There the big colt began his workouts again, this time for the Miller Stakes on August 7, 1920.

For the first time Danny felt uneasy. Nothing had changed at the historic track. The course was as beautiful and spacious as ever, and the air as pine-scented. It was hotter than usual, or at least as he remembered it. He perspired a little more as did the horses after their works. And the flies were worse. The nights were cool but they didn't make up for the uncomfortable days. He hoped all this wasn't a bad omen.

Man o' War was working well, so Danny wasn't worried about his ability to run. There
was
a problem in that Clarence Kummer had taken a spill in a race at Belmont and had broken his collarbone. Now it was up to Mr. Riddle to decide on another jockey to ride Man o' War at Saratoga. Danny felt it might be better not to race the colt at all until Kummer recovered. If Man o' War didn't like the man on his back, there was no telling
what
might happen. But Danny couldn't say anything. He'd just have to wait until Mr. Riddle made up his mind. It wasn't easy to wait, either. The heat didn't help at all.

The Saratoga meeting opened August 1, and on that day Danny watched a race that almost equaled the Dwyer in excitement. It was the Saratoga Handicap in which the outstanding older horses met. He saw Sir Barton give four pounds to Exterminator and outrace him, setting a new track record for the mile and a quarter of 2:01 ⅘! As he listened to the clamor of the huge crowd, Danny knew the public would insist that a match race be held between Sir Barton and Man o' War. The big three-year-old had yet to race a mile and a quarter, but coming up soon would be the Travers Stakes at that distance.
Then the fans would have a comparison in time to make. Meanwhile, the clamor to race the two champions would continue, and only Mr. Riddle could make the decision to start Man o' War in such a special event.

Back at the stables Danny heard Mr. Riddle tell reporters, “It's far too early to consider such a match with Sir Barton. We have a hard campaign ahead of us as it is. When it's completed I'll decide whether to send Man o' War against Sir Barton.

It was that day, too, that Mr. Riddle made a decision of more urgent concern to all. Turning to Louis Feustel, he said, “I'm going to let Earl Sande ride Man o' War in the Miller Stakes.”

Feustel nodded but said nothing. It was good copy for the newspapers, for Earl Sande was a young, brilliant jockey. Even more newsworthy was the fact that Sande had just ridden Sir Barton to victory in the Saratoga Handicap. After the forthcoming race his opinion of the two champions would be particularly significant to readers. The Miller Stakes was just seven days off.

August 7 came and as Danny watched Man o' War go postward he knew he had been right about one thing, anyway. The trainers who had remained silent concerning Man o' War's invincibility after the Dwyer Stakes had now spoken, not in words but in something stronger still. They kept their horses in the barns, only two of them willing even to try for second money. Donnacona, whom Man o' War had beaten several times before, was one, and a newcomer named King Albert was the other. Man o' War carried 131 pounds, giving twelve pounds to Donnacona and seventeen to King Albert. Danny, as well as the crowd, knew that Man o' War would have the track to himself.

The boy's eyes remained on Man o' War as Earl Sande took
him postward. The big colt was full of run after his long rest but well under control. Sande wasn't having any trouble with him. Either Man o' War liked Sande, Danny decided, or he was becoming a racing machine, responsive to the hands of any competent jockey.

The horses were at the post barely a minute when the barrier sprang up. Danny watched Man o' War come out fast and in stride. Donnacona and King Albert were already trailing and beaten. Sande had a strong pull on Man o' War but the big colt continued to draw away from the others. Rounding the far turn, Sande took a still stouter hold on Man o' War, and he came into the homestretch galloping easily and unextended. He crossed the finish line far ahead of Donnacona, with King Albert still farther to the rear and totally outclassed.

The applause of the crowd swelled as he came back, even though it had been more of an exhibition than a race. Danny's eyes shifted to the time being posted on the board, and he along with the crowd stopped cheering. Even under the strongest kind of restraint Man o' War had raced the mile and three-sixteenths only three-fifths of a second off the track record!

The crowd's silent homage was shattered by a new burst of applause as Man o' War was taken into the winner's circle. There was scarcely a mark on him and he was breathing easily. It was then that the reporters asked Earl Sande for a comparison of Man o' War and Sir Barton, since he had now ridden both horses.

The young jockey grinned. “I'm a lot more tired than he is,” he said. “It was like tryin' to pull up a runaway locomotive. I've never had one like that under me before. He's the best horse I've ever ridden.”

“Are you including older horses like Sir Barton?” the reporters persisted, anxiously.

Sande reached down to pat Man o' War's bulging neck. He
was under contract to Commander Ross, owner of Sir Barton, and there would be other races astride the older champion. In addition, Sir Barton had set a new record for a mile and a quarter just a few days before.

As he hesitated, the reporters said, “Maybe Sir Barton isn't as spectacular as Man o' War, but do you think he's faster?”

Sande dismounted without answering, and the newsmen could get nothing more out of him.

Danny stood quietly, waiting for the photographers to finish taking their pictures. “Watch out!” he yelled suddenly to one of them. “He kicks to the off side.”

The man jumped back just in time to avoid a well-aimed hoof. “Thanks,” the photographer said. “Seems like you know this colt pretty well.”

Danny nodded.

“He hasn't a mark on him,” the photographer said. “Man, he's big. He must put away a lot of feed.”

“He does,” Danny answered. “Three meals a day. Six quarts of oats, four whole and two crushed. Maybe thirty pounds of hay, too, special from the farm, timothy and a little clover thrown in for dessert. Sometimes I give him salad for good measure. That's lettuce with a little endive, romaine, and leaves of the chicory plant.”

The man's eyes were now on Danny rather than Man o' War. “I'll bet you enjoy feeding him.”

“I sure do,” Danny said quietly.

The ceremony in the winner's circle ended and Feustel called for Man o' War's blanket. Danny ran forward with it, giving it to the trainer, who placed it carefully over the colt's hindquarters. Then he led Man o' War back to the barn through the murky veil of heat.

Mr. Riddle decided to start Man o' War only once more at Saratoga. Two weeks later the big colt went postward in the Travers Stakes at a long mile and a quarter. Again the stands were crowded with those who had come to watch him in action. They even had hopes that the Travers would be more than a parade performance by the champion, for Jim Rowe was again furnishing the competition against Man o' War. He alone of all the trainers had not given up hope of toppling the colt from his pedestal. His grudge against the Riddle stable was deep-seated and he would fight it out to the very end.

Danny watched Upset and John P. Grier follow Man o' War in the post parade. Two against one! He knew, as did everyone else, what Jim Rowe's strategy would be. Eddie Ambrose, who was riding John P. Grier, had been instructed to set the blazing pace he had run in the grueling Dwyer back in early June. The small, courageous colt had not raced since then; he was rested, fresh, and full of run. He would go as far and as fast as he could, trying to take everything possible out of Man o' War;
then Upset, who had not raced since June either, would come on in the homestretch, hoping to finish the job and beat the champion.

It was fine race strategy, one that might even work, Danny decided fearfully. He had watched Upset and John P. Grier in their morning works and their performance had been brilliant. They might be more than a match for Man o' War if the race was run according to Rowe's strategy.

Danny's gaze shifted from Man o' War to his rider. There was someone new on Man o' War's back and this, too, was a cause for anxiety. Earl Sande had had commitments at another track. Clarence Kummer's shoulder had mended but was not yet strong enough for the jockey to control Man o' War. Mr. Riddle had chosen Andy Schuttinger to ride in the Travers.

Schuttinger was a good judge of pace, which would help today with John P. Grier due to go out in front. Still, it would be a difficult task for a new rider.

He won't have any more trouble
, Danny thought,
than Sande did. Man o' War will go for anyone now, anyone who will just sit there and not interfere too much with the way he likes to run.

The horses were moving up to the barrier. Danny watched closely, wondering if the other riders would again try to wear down Man o' War at the post. His colt was carrying 129 pounds to Upset's 123 and John P. Grier's 115. Danny never quite understood the track handicapper's allotments of weight. After the Dwyer, Grier should be carrying more poundage, he thought. With only 115 pounds on his back the small colt would fly!

The horses pushed their noses up to the elastic tape and were straight and still. The huge crowd was quiet. A mile and a quarter of empty track faced the colts, the same distance over
which the older champion, Sir Barton, had set a new track record on opening day. The spectators would have a comparison to make between Man o' War and the older champion. Now they remained silent, the seconds ticking away.

“THEY'RE OFF!”

The horses had been behind the barrier less than a minute. Danny saw his colt spring forward, going to the front immediately, his great body concealing John P. Grier as in their last race. But this time Man o' War moved a stride in front, then two! Danny felt a sudden heaviness come to his chest. He saw immediately that there was no holding Man o' War today! No judgment of pace was necessary to guide him. John P. Grier's early speed and Jim Rowe's race strategy were swept aside in the long sweep of his legs. He ran in front and he kept going! Nothing would slow him down, neither the pull on his mouth, the weight on his back, nor the distance of the race. He was running as he wanted to run!

Along with the thousands of others, Danny watched Man o' War in complete silence. His speed was blistering; they had only to look back at John P. Grier, already under the whip and losing ground every step of the way, to know that. Still farther behind, Upset was under the whipping drive as well.

There was no catching Man o' War. He passed one quarter pole after another in the fastest time ever recorded at Saratoga. When he entered the homestretch, Andy Schuttinger was standing in the stirrup irons in an attempt to slow him down. Gradually the colt's strides shortened, as if he had decided to give in to the urgent pull on his mouth. He passed the stands and swept under the finish wire, easy, flowing, and still going strong.