PALSY WALSY

Sharp Cat 
In Neon

Sharp Cat was in the news again the other day when her 3-year-old son Extra Sharp won by many lengths in his second start at Monmouth.

That unlocked another bank of memories regarding Broodmare of the Year In Neon, who was the dam of Sharp Cat, who won l5 races, seven of them Grade 1 events.

It is a twice told tale by now how I came to successfully lobby John Franks to purchase In Neon who was carrying the Storm Cat filly in utero.  There are other angles to the purchase and subsequent dispersal of Sharp Cat that have not been revealed.

The saga began way back in the 1960s when a claimer named Palsy Walsy was fast becoming my favorite horse.  It was a wet summer and the caddy yard was filled with ambitious lads with time on their hands hoping to “catch a loop” when the Sunnybrook Golf Club in suburban Philadelphia eventually dried out enough to play.

In the meantime, some of the older fellows studied the racing entries for Atlantic City Racecourse. Palsy Walsy caught my eye because he loved the mud and won repeatedly.  My racing bankroll began to surpass what the caddy yard could produce.

Fast forward a decade or so and I am a budding racetracker plying my trade in “Beautiful British Columbia” as the license plates would have it.  Exhibition Park was a long way from Atlantic City but there was no finer city than Vancouver and there was not a lot of competition among bloodstock agents. I was pretty much it, largely due to some national exposure commenting on CBC-TV shows coast-to-coast.

A sportsman named Pat Ballentine asked for my assistance in securing a 3-year-old colt to run in stakes at Ex Park, now known as Hastings Park.  He had been approached to buy a prospect named Captain’s Party and my job was to analyze his Woodbine form and pedigree.

And what do you know? Captain’s Party is none other than a son of Palsy Walsy.  Talk about your “no brainers”! Palsy Walsy and mud in a town with 40 inches of rain a year.

Sign me up.

Captain’s Party did his job and won a number of stakes for Ballentine.

Palsy Walsy was doing her job, too. She produced a good California stakes-winner in Shamara and she, in turn,  produced In Neon.

A few years later another Vancouver owner named Peter Redekop sent me to the May 2-year-old sale at Barretts in Pomona, CA with instructions to “buy the fastest in the sale.”

The fastest horse is easy to spot.  He’s another son of In Neon, by Al Nasr.  He works brilliantly but there’s a catch...he has a club foot.  I report that fact and the potential buyer asks “what’s a club foot”?

I tell him what I know, that it’s not a big deal if managed properly.  My man is gunshy and decides to pass.

The consignor is Lev Fanning who touts his brother Jerry on the horse who goes on to win $807,000 named Star Recruit.

I moved to Kentucky in 1993 and go to the November Keeneland Sale to check out In Neon once again.  I do not have a buyer because I think she is going to bring half a million and don’t try to hustle up a buyer. 

In Neon leaves the ring unsold with a last price of $l60,000.  Quickly I seek out Californian Meryl Ann Tanz and ask what is her bottom dollar.

“Two hundred thousand and not a penny less,” she avers.  Agents hover about trying to make a deal while I head straight to the telephone exchange and ring up Franks.

He demands to know why I expect him to pay $200,000 when the market has rejected the mare at under $l60,000.

“ I know this family,” I tell him.  “This has already produced a major stakes-winner by a failed sire.  What if you get a good looking Storm Cat foal.  This mare would then be worth a fortune.”

“OK, go buy her,” he said.

What I did not tell him is that In Neon is perhaps the ugliest mare I have ever seen.

That’s why no one would bid high on her in the ring.  I was quite likely the only person in that Keeneland sale ring who had been closely involved in the evolution of a successful family for thirty years.

The Storm Cat filly arrives and I am full of anticipation as I venture out to see her in her first week of life.  Not too bad, I think. Plenty of leg and length, well muscled.  But her right knee is rotated out pretty good.  She’ll need time.

The following summer Franks decides to cull back hundreds of his horses.  In general, we tried to cut from the bottom and keep the better stock.

We have a meeting in his Shreveport office with the Fasig-Tipton staff. They want to sell the Storm Cat filly and I am adamant that he keep her to race.  He tells us that he can enter the filly and keep her if she doesn’t sell well.

Come dispersal day and another meeting is held with the auctioneers to set reserves. I suggest a reserve of $l50,000: Franks lowers it to $125,000.  I am disappointed but the worse was yet to come.

I am on the auction stand reading the pedigrees.  Sharp Cat is in the ring and the bidding is sluggish.  The phone rings.  From a back office Franks asks if the $82,000 bid is live money.

“Yes sir, it is,” I tell him. “ Mr. and Mrs. Rogers made the bid from the right side of the ring”.

“I’m in a selling mood”, he says.  “Sell her”’.

The rest, as they say, is history.

At a post-sale meeting the mood is flat.  Franks asked how I thought we made out.

“Not too bad,” I said.  “But I’m afraid that you will one day wish you had not sold the In Neon filly.”

The Rogers turned $82K into $400,000 when they sold her at Saragota to Rick Porter.

Porter sold her as a 2-year-old for $900,000.  Thoroughbred Corporation won $2 million at the races.  Darley bought her for millions more.

GOOD THINKING

Sometimes common sense plus a little deductive reasoning  can be enough in making a satisfactory horse deal.

An acquaintance of mine landed a stakes filly just that way some years ago.  Spectacular Bid was terrorizing Flying Paster and all comers at Santa Anita in the winter of Bid’s 4-year-old career.

Buddy Delp trained Bid along with the rest of a string sent West from his Maryland home.  Dr. Ken Walters was a Vancouver dentist who dabbled with a few runners at Exhibition Park.

He had a hunch that Delp might not be too fussy about his other horses while he tended to the media circus surrounding the “best horse ever to look through a bridle”.

So he was ready to pounce when he spotted a filly by Silent Screen in the entries for a paltry $20,000 maiden claimer at Santa Anita.  The filly’s name was Happy Feet, out of a Northern Dancer mare named Danceful.  Danceful was out of a half-sister to the dam 

five-time Horse of the Year Kelso.  That’s a lot of pedigree muscle for twenty grand!

Happy Feet won that afternoon and became a stakes-winner in Canada later on and became a distinguished producer with15 foals and 14 of them raced and won.

Some years later Dr. Walters ran afoul of Canada’s tax department and had to sell his horses pronto to satisfy the authorities.  A package deal of five horses was on offer and I jumped on the first plane to look them over.  The price was right and I took all five, hoping to resell four and keep Happy Feet out of admiration for her ability and soundness.

I sold three horses in short order and made a reasonable profit.  The one remaining was a smallish filly by an unheralded sire named Brunswick.  I knew this one might be a tough sale because she had one pretty crooked leg to go along with her petite body.

But I got behind this filly, having observed her combative nature-a trait she inherited from Happy Feet- and a way of outrunning a paddock full of yearlings.

My sales pitch failed and we were packing up to bring the Brunswick filly back home when John Franks rang and asked if we had any RNAs he should consider.

I mentioned the Happy Feet filly and said that I would take $5,000 for her. He readily agreed on the deal and he sent her off to Woodbine-based trainer David Bell.  David is a patient trainer of the old school and he was fired more than once by Franks for being too slow bringing them to the races.

Not this time.  The filly named Screen Happy won $337,805 from 2 to 5.  I got a pat on the back from the boss.

I got one foal for myself out of Happy Feet, a robust colt by Skip Away that I named Chipper Skipper (get it?).  Trainer Bobby Barnett called from Churchill Downs one stormy fall day and said that we had a real shot to win in a maiden route race under the Twin Spires.

The late Luke Kruytbosch and I were friends from having worked televised races together in Western Canada.  I mentioned he horse to him and we each cashed when Chipper Skipper closed about 20 lengths to get up in the last stride at 20-to-1.  Luke's call of the race rivalled the way he would announce the Kentucky Derby.

 

Wednesday at Belmont trainer Tom Bush unveiled a first time starter named Screen Saviour a daughter of Screen Happy who won impressively.  I sat in the Keeneland Equestrian Room and pondered whether to bet at nearly 9-to-1.  Instead I stood pat.

Reverie can be expensive sometimes.

Happy Feet, may your tribe continue to increase!

GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT

A major league baseball general manager named Frank Lane used to say that the best trade is often the one that you don’t make.

That motto certainly applied to the chain of events which led to the purchase of champion sprinter Speightstown. I was buying yearlings at the 1999 Keeneland July Sale on behalf of Canadian newcomer Eugene Melnyk. He liked his advisers to name a horse each day that he “must have”. I nominated a colt by Gone West out of a champion mare in Canada named Silken Cat (Hip 185).

Melnyk rang up from his home in Barbados with instructions to bid on Hip 167, a Gone West filly out of stakes-winner Miraloma. She was not especially striking physically but the filly figured to draw some action with a star-studded family that included sprint champions Gold Beauty and Dayjur. Worth maybe a million, I figured.

Spirited bidding quickly drove the price up on 167 and I broke out in a sweat when Melynk said make it $2.7 million. Thank heavens a bid rang out at $2.8. “What do we do now?”asked the voice on the phone.”

“Get out of Dodge is what we do now,” I countered. “You have a horse coming in about a half-hour who really is worth $2 million. Forget about this one.”

Speightstown strolled in a few minutes later and was the cynosure of all eyes. Bidding was fierce once again and we managed to acquire the horse for $2 million. I have no doubt that we would not have had the green light for two multi-millionaire yearlings nearly back-to-back.

The Miraloma filly became an expensive dud who never raced while Speightstown’s value was north of $l0 million after his brilliant Breeders’ Cup Sprint cinched a championship for him, not to mention some $1.2 in purses.

Dividends continue to flow from Speightstown’s first crop which last week included four stakes-winners, including a Gr I in France, a Gr 2 in New York and two more in the US.
They run very fast, that’s a given, but they are winning in top company at a mile, on turf, on dirt, poly, you name it.

That’s how a professional bloodstock agent serves his client.

As for Frank Lane, I have still not forgiven him 50 years after he traded Rocky Colavito from the Cleveland Indians to the Detroit Tigers for Harvey Kuenn

TOUGH BEAT AT 66-TO-1

The exploits of trainer Wesley Ward at Royal Ascot sparked still another trip down memory lane. Two decades earlier my good friend Pat Collins had sent a Canadian filly named Zadracarta to try her luck in the Group I Prix de L’abbaye which is contested on the Arc card at Longchamp.

It took some doing but Pat eventually convinced owner Steve Stavro to mix it up with the Paris swells. 

I had a lot of confidence in Pat so I fished out a Canadian double sawbuck and asked him to put it on the nose. News did not travel quite so quickly in those days so it took 48 hours to discover that Zadracarta had led every step of the way until the last stride of the five furlong sprint. AT 66-TO-1!!

Pat was one of those unique characters that populate the world’s racing grounds and keep them lively. He left his native Ireland an orphan and arrived in Toronto with the literal shirt off his back. He was soon hired as an exercise rider but turns out he was stretching the truth a bit about that.

Next stop was the racing office and he somehow rose to the top job there in record time. A short stint as a bloodstock agent began just when a major recession slowed trade to a halt.

Pat was not the type to give up easily. He became a trainer and hooked up with Toronto grocery baron Stavro. Stavro was no dullard himself. He migrated to Canada from his native Macedonia and became the classic entrepreneur success, graduating from selling fruit on the street to ownership of the biggest food store chain in Ontario.

He was obsessed with Alexander The Great, a fellow Macedonian, and named many of his horses with a Macedonian theme. Zadracarta was an ancient Persian city conquered by Alexander.

Bold Ruckus sired Zadracarta and was dam sire of Ward’s Jealous Again who captured the Group 2 Queen Mary Stakes. Florida breeder Harold Plumley acquired Zadracarta from the Stavro estate. Coincidentally, he also bred Jealous Again from another Bold Ruckus mare named Chi Sa.

The first time I attended the Toronto yearling sale I was trying to buy one by Bold Ruckus. The first dozen or so I looked at were all back at the knee, a point which I raised with the consignor who also stood the stallion.

“You wouldn’t want one that wasn’t,” said he. From that moment on I relaxed and bought a number of very successful runners and broodmares from the tribe of Bold Ruckus.

My friendship with Pat dated back into the late l970s when he phoned me in Vancouver from Toronto just to tell me how much he liked a column I had written in Daily Racing Form. I had never heard of the guy but I made it a point to look him up in 1985 when I was hired by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation to work the Rothman’s International (Gr. 1) at Woodbine, won by Southjet for Dogwood Stable and trainer Angel Penna Sr.

He was a boon companion until the tragic auto accident which claimed Pat’s life while he was in winter quarters at Payson Park in Florida almost 20 years ago.

BOO, SENATOR WILLIAMS

California business man buys a Thoroughbred farm and two years later proposes to invest $70 million more in another venture in downtown Lexington. Once again this demonstrates the diverse ways in which horses drive our Kentucky economy.

Will potential investors be so ready to include Kentucky in their plans if the horse business is perceived to be in decline?

As for Sen. Williams, he responded with a proposal so inane, so empty handed, so empty headed that he will soon be the object of ridicule, not fear. His bloated sense of himself has become intolerable in a time of crisis for the entire state of Kentucky, not just the horse industry.

A Thoroughbred figures to outrun a stubborn mule every time. The groundswell seems to have shifted in our favor but there’s still a mountain to climb. Let’s be ready when we are called on for further action.

ROAD TO RICHES

In Neon

Sharp Cat

Sharp Cat was in the news again the other day when her 3-year-old son Extra Sharp won by many lengths in his second start at Monmouth.

That unlocked another bank of memories regarding Broodmare of the Year In Neon, who was the dam of Sharp Cat, who won l5 races, seven of them Grade 1 events.

It is a twice told tale by now how I came to successfully lobby John Franks to purchase In Neon who was carrying the Storm Cat filly in utero.  There are other angles to the purchase and subsequent dispersal of Sharp Cat that have not been revealed.

The saga began way back in the 1960s when a claimer named Palsy Walsy was fast becoming my favorite horse.  It was a wet summer and the caddy yard was filled with ambitious lads with time on their hands hoping to “catch a loop” when the Sunnybrook Golf Club in suburban Philadelphia eventually dried out enough to play.

In the meantime, some of the older fellows studied the racing entries for Atlantic City Racecourse. Palsy Walsy caught my eye because he loved the mud and won repeatedly.  My racing bankroll began to surpass what the caddy yard could produce.

Fast forward a decade or so and I am a budding racetracker plying my trade in “Beautiful British Columbia” as the license plates would have it.  Exhibition Park was a long way from Atlantic City but there was no finer city than Vancouver and there was not a lot of competition among bloodstock agents. I was pretty much it, largely due to some national exposure commenting on CBC-TV shows coast-to-coast.

A sportsman named Pat Ballentine asked for my assistance in securing a 3-year-old colt to run in stakes at Ex Park, now known as Hastings Park.  He had been approached to buy a prospect named Captain’s Party and my job was to analyze his Woodbine form and pedigree.

And what do you know? Captain’s Party is none other than a son of Palsy Walsy.  Talk about your “no brainers”! Palsy Walsy and mud in a town with 40 inches of rain a year.

Sign me up.

Captain’s Party did his job and won a number of stakes for Ballentine.

Palsy Walsy was doing her job, too. She produced a good California stakes-winner in Shamara and she, in turn,  produced In Neon.

A few years later another Vancouver owner named Peter Redekop sent me to the May 2-year-old sale at Barretts in Pomona, CA with instructions to “buy the fastest in the sale.”

The fastest horse is easy to spot.  He’s another son of In Neon, by Al Nasr.  He works brilliantly but there’s a catch...he has a club foot.  I report that fact and the potential buyer asks “what’s a club foot”?

I tell him what I know, that it’s not a big deal if managed properly.  My man is gunshy and decides to pass.

The consignor is Lev Fanning who touts his brother Jerry on the horse who goes on to win $807,000 named Star Recruit.

I moved to Kentucky in 1993 and go to the November Keeneland Sale to check out In Neon once again.  I do not have a buyer because I think she is going to bring half a million and don’t try to hustle up a buyer. 

In Neon leaves the ring unsold with a last price of $l60,000.  Quickly I seek out Californian Meryl Ann Tanz and ask what is her bottom dollar.

“Two hundred thousand and not a penny less,” she avers.  Agents hover about trying to make a deal while I head straight to the telephone exchange and ring up Franks.

He demands to know why I expect him to pay $200,000 when the market has rejected the mare at under $l60,000.

“ I know this family,” I tell him.  “This has already produced a major stakes-winner by a failed sire.  What if you get a good looking Storm Cat foal.  This mare would then be worth a fortune.”

“OK, go buy her,” he said.

What I did not tell him is that In Neon is perhaps the ugliest mare I have ever seen.

That’s why no one would bid high on her in the ring.  I was quite likely the only person in that Keeneland sale ring who had been closely involved in the evolution of a successful family for thirty years.

The Storm Cat filly arrives and I am full of anticipation as I venture out to see her in her first week of life.  Not too bad, I think. Plenty of leg and length, well muscled.  But her right knee is rotated out pretty good.  She’ll need time.

The following summer Franks decides to cull back hundreds of his horses.  In general, we tried to cut from the bottom and keep the better stock.

We have a meeting in his Shreveport office with the Fasig-Tipton staff. They want to sell the Storm Cat filly and I am adamant that he keep her to race.  He tells us that he can enter the filly and keep her if she doesn’t sell well.

Come dispersal day and another meeting is held with the auctioneers to set reserves. I suggest a reserve of $l50,000: Franks lowers it to $125,000.  I am disappointed but the worse was yet to come.

I am on the auction stand reading the pedigrees.  Sharp Cat is in the ring and the bidding is sluggish.  The phone rings.  From a back office Franks asks if the $82,000 bid is live money.

“Yes sir, it is,” I tell him. “ Mr. and Mrs. Rogers made the bid from the right side of the ring”.

“I’m in a selling mood”, he says.  “Sell her”’.

The rest, as they say, is history.

At a post-sale meeting the mood is flat.  Franks asked how I thought we made out.

“Not too bad,” I said.  “But I’m afraid that you will one day wish you had not sold the In Neon filly.”

The Rogers turned $82K into $400,000 when they sold her at Saragota to Rick Porter.

Porter sold her as a 2-year-old for $900,000.  Thoroughbred Corporation won $2 million at the races.  Darley bought her for millions more.

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH

Peteski was named to the Canadian Racing Hall of Fame recently as he well deserved to be, having won the Triple Crown in his native land. In fact, he authored a Grand Slam of sorts by taking the unrestricted Gr 1 Molson Million at the expense of Kentucky Derby winner Sea Hero and other American stalwarts. That quartet of 3-year-old races had been swept only once before when legendary filly Dance Smartly swept her male opposition. She tacked on a Breeders’ Cup Distaff at Churchill Downs to top off her career.

While Peteski was demonstrating class at a mile and a quarter in the Queen’s Plate at Woodbine his owner showed anything but in an inexcusable breach of good taste.

New York owner Earle Mack showed up in Toronto with an entourage from the New York City Ballet, headed by director Peter Martins. Each morning a bemused Woodbine backstretch was treated to ballet steps on the back lawns, a scene that Degas might have appreciated.

Some weeks before Mack had purchased Peteski from breeder Barry Schwartz of Montreal (not the NYRA Barry Schwartz) who was said to be in need of cash while trying to privatize Toronto’s Pearson International Airport.

My assignment that day as a member of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation was to interview the winning owner as he or she made their way to the winner’s circle. These sound bites are usually an innocuous 60 seconds or so in duration to fill in while the winning horse makes its way back.

Mack made his way to my camera position and we waited for a one-minute commercial to conclude.

“Make sure you tell the audience that I named Peteski for my good friend Peter Martins,” Mack suddenly blurted.

“You know that’s not true,” I responded, knowing full well that he had owned the horse but a few weeks. Peteski had raced in Schwartz colors on a number of occasions and had been named by him. “Whatever your motivation is I can promise you we are not going there.”

A strained and perfunctory interview followed while I seethed that a guy would be so obnoxious and fraudulent to tamper with coverage of Canada’s national horse race. 

I told him as much later in the Turf Çlub but he was unrepentant and went off in search of more champagne.

That happened l6 years ago and I heard little of Mack other than his being named US Ambassador to Finland.

Then he popped up again down in Florida, posing as a white knight in getting an ethics bill passed in that legislature. Give me a break. Who’s going to reform the reformer?

THE BEST JOCKEY YOU NEVER HEARD OF...

I read the other day that jockey Alan Cuthbertson had ridden a couple of winners at Assiniboia Downs in Winnipeg, Manitoba. For a man who lived in the fast lane for six decades that is quite a feat.

Alan and I crossed paths first in 1970 when he moved his tack to Exhibition Park in Vancouver (now Hastings Park). I was editor/columnist of the local edition of Daily Racing Form.
Doug Winship was my handicapper and he was also Cuthbertson’s agent. Alan was an immediate success and Doug supplied useful information which helped us cash the odd bet. Alan was a natural athlete who sat a horse as good as any rider I had seen. He also had a wild streak and would have looked like Errol Flynn if you put a mustache on him. Unschooled he may have been but Alan’s native intelligence was apparent. He studied yoga in an effort to reduce weight and gain flexibility. We even produced a feature on Canadian Broadcasting Corporation about the yoga jockey.

When he was on his best behavior you could not beat him. Other times, he tended to self destruct his career. The following tale will illustrate the point.

Doug had lined up a mount for a Futurity in Edmonton on a horse called Brandy Magic, trained by Anderson. Cy felt he had the horse to beat so Doug and I loaded up on Brandy Magic (at $200 or about a week’s pay in that era).

We got the word that Brandy Magic had won at 12-l odds and danced a victory jig in the Ex Park press box. When we failed to hear from Cuthy for a couple of days we got concerned. Finally he showed up and explained that he did not get the bets down.
You see, he was taken into custody at the Edmonton airport by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police the night before the race, charged with possession of a controlled substance. He needed the bankroll to make bail so he could ride the race the next day.

Alan’s career waxed and waned over the years. He’d fade away for a year or more sometimes, then show up in Western Canada long enough to show us that he still had a vestige of his former skill. His scrapes with the law prevented him from riding south of the border.

Alberta was famed for the jockeys developed on the bullrings of Edmonton, Calgary Medicine Hat and numerous country fairs, much like the Cajun country of Louisiana.
Riders like Don McBeth, Johnny Longden, Ron Hansen, Don Seymour, Herbie Ollive, 
Gary Boulanger came up the hard way on that demanding circuit.

But ask any veteran who saw him ride and he’ll tell you Alan Cuthbertson was the best jockey you never heard of.

SPRING HAS SPRUNG

A few days off turned into three weeks of post-Keeneland, post-Derby and post-2yo sales lassitude.  Guilt bubbled to the surface while my high school kids strain to prepare for final exams.  The least I could do is offer up some timely horse talk.

Best thing that happened to me on  Derby day was listening to my son Josh who insisted we bet the race despite my advice that the race could not be handicapped. Stabbed at yes, handicapped no.

He had already mastered the art of being a pest while still in short pants so, of course, I listened.

“Here’s what we do,” said I.  “We play the pick three and use Informed Decision as a single in the first leg. Next we take Einstein and a couple of other high odds horses. Since we can’t figure the Derby we wheel the field.  Turns the bet into an expensive daily double.”

Mine That Bird thus fulfilled the dream of all-button punchers coming in for a $2700 

score on a $57 ticket.  Way to go, Josh!

Einstein has been a particular favorite of mine since the day I saw him stroll into the Keeneland paddock one day to contest the last race.  I thought then that he was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen and nothing has happened since to change my mind. If you saw him school in the Churchill Downs paddock you know what I mean.

He’s not just another pretty face.  Einstein showed enormous grit to hold off Cowboy Cal in the Woodward Reserve (Gr. 1).

Informed Decision is another heart-stopper, leaving herself lots to do in deep stretch and then goes out and does it. The Humana Distaff (Gr. 1) fell to her relentless charge in the last 50 yards to win going away.  Similar tactics earned her the Gr. 1 Madison in her previous race at Keeneland.

Mine That Bird was picked out by a Canadian colleague name of Dave Cotey who has been doing this sort of thing for many a year.  Those of us who do that for a living doff our caps to Dave. 

French jockey Julien Leparoux displayed quiet brilliance throughout the Keeneland meet.  He wins in every conceivable fashion.  His most memorable ride may have been one that he did not win.

He was on the lead in a weekday race when his mount began to bear out down the backstretch.  A test of wills was the result and the horse came off the turn at a 45 degree angle, headed for the outside fence.  Leparoux lost his irons but, before you could say “sacre bleu”, he kept riding and salvaged second place.  Sangfroid is what the French call that quality...cool blood.  Stick a Gauloise to his lip and he looks like a young

Jean-Paul Belmondo.

A plenitude of cleavage and Corona complements the world-class Keeneland racing.

As Bob Hope may have sung, thanks for the mammaries.

SPRING HAS SPRUNG