CAPE TOWN SALE

I take my show on the road to Cape Town for a new international yearling sale January 27-28. The excursion is designed to familiarize global players with South African bloodstock. Inquiries are welcomed.

HERE'S HOW IT'S DONE

Jerry Hollendorf was basking in the glow of his latest Eclipse Award, well earned by Blind Luck, a few hours after Indian Winter captured the San Pedro Stakes at Santa Anita.

Indian Winter stalked a torrid pace to win twice from three starts. I bought him for a partnership organized by Hollendorfer at the OBS sale last March. When a young horse can attend such a scorching pace like that in the San Pedro one begins to wonder about stamina.

Not a worry I would think.

When I buy juveniles there is a lot of pedigree study executed before I even leave for the airport. I am seeking horses who distinguish themselves in the breezes; the third leg of the stool is a rapport with a reputable consigner who has shown he, or she, can produce runners.

Indian Winter qualifies on all counts. First, he is a half-brother to Gr. III winner Sindy With An S. She earns more points for having a stakes-horse by ordinary Five Star Day and a $119,000 earner by Johar.

The second dam did not win but her full-sister produced stakes horses by failed stallions like Dance Brightly and Acceptance. In these cases the credit invariably comes due to the female.

It really gets interesting in the third dam which boasts two-time champion Ashado and is replete with graded stakes horse like Sun River, Foresta, Victory USA and Saint Stephen.

Indian Winter is the third SW bought from Ciaran Dunne's Wavertree Stable. He bids fair to be the best of the lot in his trainer's talented hands.

NO BLAME, NO GAME

They say you only hurt the ones you love. If that's true, then there was a lot of pain to be distributed at the Eclipse Awards. It was easy to love both Zenyatta and Blame on their merits.

My handicapper's mind had me choose Blame after a Breeders' Cup for the ages was decided in his favor. That point of view shifted when I realized that, while Blame may have been Horse of the Year for 2010, Zenyatta might make historians crown her as the Horse of the Century.

Blame can only enhance his reputation now through success as a stallion. The mare's exploits will be the stuff of lore regardless of her subsequent ability in the breeding shed.

When a filly named Regret became the first female winner of the Kentucky Derby in 1915 she was known forever after as "the only Regret". Who was second that year?

Who cares?

Man O'War and Secretariat dominated the twentieth century and verbal combat over who was better spilled over into the present day. Secretariat even got a movie.

Zenyata's Hollywood connections assure that she may soon star on the silver screen.

"Records are made to be broken" is one of sport's hoary cliches that proves itself with some regularity. Ask Bret Favre, UConn basketball and Sunny Blossom. Sunny Blossom, you say?

In recent weeks a couple of team sport idols bit the dust while Sunny Blossom lost the distinction of Santa Anita's fastest sprinter since the l989 Palos Verde Handicap.

A snappy 1.07.1 was all that Sunny required to set a standard that lasted more than two decades. A highly touted juvenile named The Factor broke the previous time barrier.

Extenuating circumstances contributed to The Factor's suddenly newfound fame. First of all, there was no comparison between the racing conditions. The new champ showed his stuff over a Santa Anita strip that was posting absurd fractions in every race, at every call. That pattern became a habit in the early days of the Santa Anita meet, propelled by a souped up dirt track.

Second, Sunny made his mark in a graded stakes at the expense of arch-rival Olympic Prospect. The Factor was beating maiden juveniles.

Finally, a significant gap between running times convinced me that my hero had indeed demonstrated something exceptional. Horses were running in 1.11 on the 1989 card, for instance, a sign of a dead track. Everybody was flying around the Årcadia oval a few weeks ago.

Gary Stevens rode Sunny Blossom that fateful afternoon and he saw no need to even uncock his stick. "No one could have beaten me on that horse that day", he repeats whenever a little nostalgia surfaces.

Sunny could be a quirky ride. He had back troubles which probably accounted for the fact that he invariably broke slow enough to spot rivals a length or two. Once in gear, he would take the front and go as fast as he could go. He rarely ever changed leads during a race, another costly habit.

A more endearing attribute was winning the final leg of big money Pick-six wagers

at Bay Meadows and Golden Gate Fields.

While we no longer see his name on the program, Sunny Blossom will be a fond memory in years ahead.

One of a Kind

In 1968 I was golf editor of the New Orleans States-Item, fresh from an NCAA career uptown at Loyola University. I got a call one day from Larry McKinley, a popular disc jockey at a blues station, inviting me to play in a golf tournament at Pontchartrain Park.

When I showed up it was apparent that I was the only Caucasian in the field. I was informed by Larry that white golfers avoided Pontchartrain Park rather than play alongside black players in the midst of the civil rights movement.

After hitting off the first tee I was approached by a member of our group who said "hey, white boy, do you want to play for some cash".

If memory serves, we agreed on a $5 Nassau or so and were nip-and-tuck in the match when a torrential storm rolled in from the lake and flooded the course. Sunday's round was cancelled also and the only action to be found was at the various dice games that ensued.

Some months later I headed North to try my luck at tournament at golf. I became just another dew sweeping, trunk slamming impecunious rabbit who hastened back to journalism.

And I never met Joe Bartholomew, more's the pity.

KNOCK 'EM DEAD

Galen May liked to gamble and it may have cost him his life. A key man in trainer Jerry Hollendorfer's organization, Galen was entrusted with Kentucky Oaks winner Blind Luck at Churchill Downs.

Galen was semi-retired after a life on the racetrack but Jerry would call on him whenever he needed a seasoned hand to prepare a horse for a big race until he could arrive on the scene. I got to know him from his frequent trips to Kentucky on behalf of Hollendorfer. He was a quiet and friendly man.

After Blind Luck's epic victory in the Oaks Galen returned to his California home.

Police arrested a neighbor of May's and charged him with murder. The motive was said to be robbery. Galen was a regular patron of a casino near Sacramento and the killer may have known his routine.

There is a sense of danger that pervades a gambling site, one of the few remaining businesses dealing in "cold cash".

I can recall several other big scores that resulted in homicide.

Fair Grounds had begun to offer the exacta as part of its wagering menu in 1969. There was an exacta only on the last race each day.

One day there was a lot of hooplah coming from the clubhouse bar. A regular had hit for big money in the last race exacta. A boisterous impromptu party broke out among a group of clubhouse regulars.

I drove home to my apartment on Esplanade in the French Quarter and thought nothing of it until I read the morning paper account of a murder victim who had been robbed of his winnings on the Fair Grounds exacta. He was shot in the carport of his apartment about a half-mile from where I lived on Esplanade.

I was at Hollywood Park one day when another steady high roller hit a Pick-Six for $40,000 and crowed about it enough to alert everybody in the park.

An assailant followed him down Century Boulevard towards the airport. The victim turned into the portico of a luxury hotel where he was shot dead. A gust of wind began to blow the money away and the thief could grab only a small amount. The scene sounded like the finale of "Treasure of Sierra Madre" when Humphrey Bogart watched his gold dust disappear in a sand storm.

The unlucky horse player drove a Jaguar with a vanity license that read YRU POOR.

Moral of the Story: If you hit a big lick it's best to keep it to yourself.

RESTITUTION NOT RETRIBUTION

Jockey Patrick Valenzuela has been blessed over the years with a certain bonhomie that, no matter how many times he has burned the racing population, there's a tendency to consider his misdeeds as "victimless".

I don't think so.

Patrick burned me and my Santa Barbara Stable partners but good by failing to keep his engagement aboard our horse Sunny Blossom in the Frank DeFrancis Memorial. The DeFrancis was the richest sprint in the country, other than the Breeders' Cup ,with a $300,000 purse.

Sunny Blossom was capable of six furlongs in 1.07.1, a Santa Anita record which still stands. It made sense to take him to Baltimore in hopes of upsetting champion Housebuster.

A number of our partners made the trip to Maryland, excited to take on the best eastern sprinters. The Kesslers from Seattle; the Caligiuris from New York and Santa Barbara; the Koenigs from Los Angeles; Nick Ben-Meir from Beverly Hills; Bob Estrin from Hollywood and various extended family boosters were all on hand.

Patrick was due to take the "red-eye" from Los Angeles which would give him plenty of time to prepare for the race. Despite calls to the hotel there was no word from our jockey. An hour before the race he finally called the stewards and claimed to be sick.

We had to scramble for the best jock we could find, namely Edgar Prado who was tops in Maryland but a far cry from the household word he was to become. His English skills were limited.

In the confusion in the paddock our trainer failed to give the word to Prado that Sunny Blossom did not like to be whipped, nor did he want to change leads so there was no point in trying to make him change.

Housebuster went to the front and never looked back. In deep stretch it was apparent that Sunny Blossom could not win. To my horror I watched as the substitute jockey whacked our horse a number of times as if he was trying to get him to change leads. You could see him swerve to try and escape the left handed stick.

Sunny Blossom exited the race dead lame in the stifle and did not run again for many months.

The partners on hand had spent tens of thousands of dollars in order to attend one of the nation's top races and came away with nothing but a sour taste and an injured horse.

Pat Valenzuela? Not a peep out of him.

I am not interested in retribution after all these years. But there is something called restitution and I challenge Pat to make good on his many indiscretions and donate a significant sum to the Winner's Foundation.

You're making money now. Ten grand ought to do it.

GOODWOOD GOOD WILL

Recently we posted a piece on how to address European dignitaries often encountered in the course of our equine wanderings. Most such meetings are usually cursory and formal at best..



And then there's Charlie, the Duke of Richmond and master of Glorious Goodwood, in the family for seven centuries or so.



Charlie, you say? A bit cheeky, that.



Hardly.



Our Four Stars Sales team sent over a draft of yearlings in 2003 to try our luck in the Tattersalls lucrative Newmarket vendue. We were advised to put on a splashy show to make the toffs aware of our imminent arrival in the UK, sort of a Paul Revere ride in reverse.



Goodwood was chosen as the site for this soiree and we complied with champion jockey Steve Cauthen in tow as media bait. Our entourage was whisked to the Duke's private quarters for champagne after the running of the Duke of Richmond Stakes.

I asked the Duke what he liked to be called , not having quaffed bubbly with a real duke before.

"You might call me Duke, or even Your Grace or just plain Charlie. Just don't call me anything bad," he said with a chuckle. We had a high old time sipping on the Duke's good champagne while he regaled his visitors with tales of Goodwood.

Goodwood had been a sponsor along with Oak Tree at Santa Anita with a home-and-home stakes offering which is now in jeopardy with the Santa Anita turmoil.

I hope I can find my way back to Goodwood one day and look up my buddy Charlie.