A Thoroughbred Race Horse Defines Itself

I have sat on the back of a thoroughbred race horse only once in my lie. It was a thrilling, almost supernatural moment I will never forget.

Rincon was a deep red roan with a lighter colored mane. It had a small well defined head, darkly deep intelligent eyes, a white stripe down its nose, and it could run faster than the wind.

Faster.

I related the story of Rincon and how I almost bought the horse after it was injured in a race in a previous column. But for the benefit of those that missed the first stoy, I will risk repeating myself.

Doyle Williams owned a horse ranch and bull riding school at the foot of South Mountain in Phoenix, AZ. We were good friends and knew I was looking for a good riding horse. One morning he called me at my newspaper and said, 'Get your bones down to the stable. I have the horse for you.

The Skyline Ranch sat just off Baseline Road, which is home to more Japanese farmers who raise flowers than any other place in the United States. As far as the eye can see, from South Phoenix to Chandler 20 miles away, are fields of flowers. The aroma is breathtaking and woould make anyone smile.

Doyle operated a riding stable and a bull riding school. His son, Eddie, at 17, was an above average bull rider who planned to turn professional on his 18th birthday. As I drove into the parking lot, I could see Doyle and Eddie standing in front of the corral where a magnificent red roan stood. It was tied to the fence, its neck was arched proudly and the full tail flowed straight back.

'Here he is,' said Doyle cheerfully. 'Last week this horse was worth $2,500 as a claimer. Today because of an accident that blinded him in one eye, Rincon is yours for $600.'

I admired Rincon from about 10 feet away. The horse looked back at me in a challenging way.

'What do I have to remember when riding a race horse?,' I said as I stroked the roan's neck.

Eddie grinned. He had a shuck of yellow hair and a face that reminded me of Tom Sawyer. 'Just hang on like hell and hope he doesn't run into any low-flying airplanes.'

We saddled the horses and I swung into the saddle. I could tell immediately that Rincon was full of himself. He was wired to a tight finish. He wanted to run.

With Doyle leading the way on his buckskin and Eddie taking up the rear, I followed the buckskin down a dirt road toward South Mountain. In front of us the road was straight and flat for more than a thousand yards.

'Ho!,' said Doyle, slapping the paint. 'Let's go!'

The paint took off like a rocket. Rincon hesitated for a split second. Then that thoroughbred laid back its ears and accelerated lke a missile bound for Mars.

'So this is what it feels like when a jockey is trying to win a race?,' I thought. We were going so fast I couldn't even feel the horse's hooves strike the ground. I eased up on the reins, and the roan ran even faster. For the first time in my life, I eased back on the reins and Rincon coasted to a stop.

The horse wasn't even breathing hard.

I turned toward Doyle. 'This horse is so incredible I think I could point toward that mountain and fly right over the top of it.' Eddie nodded and agreed I probably could.

Well, I wanted Rincon. I wanted to buy that horse but I didn't have the money. Doyle had the animal on consignment from the owner who wanted to sell it. He promised to hold Rincon as long as he could, but if another buyer came along, he would have to sell the horse.

I drove to Las Vegas that night with just over $150 in cash. By Sunday afternoon, I had won over $700 playing blackjack, using Edward O. Thorpe's card-counting method as published in 'Beat The Dealer,' his best-selling book. I drove back to Phoenix, arriving around 2 a.m. The next morning I arrived at Doyle's ranch. He answered the door rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning.

'Sorry, Pard,' he said. 'A guy came here yesterday with the money, and I had to sell the horse.'

Since that sad day 20 years ago, I have ridden and wagered on a lot of horses. Rincon, as I previously stated, was the first and only thoroughbred I ever rode. The only way I can describe the experience of that ride is by comparing, say, a Ford pickup truck or a used Chevrolet with a brand spanking new Porsche with a top speed of 200 miles per hour.

My experience with Rincon turned me into a better horse handicapper.

In the past, I had tried to overcome the track odds and handle by betting horses to place or show, often in parlays. But after my sizzling ride on the red roan, I decided to go all or nothing. In the future, I would only bet horses to win.

Over the past years, that is exactly what I have done. To help me pick the fastest horse in the race, I have relied heavily on two factors that everyone can understand and that you can get out of any Daily Racing Form.: speed ratings and breezing or breezing from the gate workouts.

Andrew Beyer, the book author and horse handicapper who perfected the Beyer Speed Ratings, is the best in the business when it comes to determining how fast a horse can run. He's complex. You will have to buy his books, read them, and then give them a serious study before you can understand how his speed ratings work. But it's definitely worth the effort.

Just remember, you are looking for consistency as well as a superior animal -- the superior kind of animal Rincon was before he was blinded in one eye. And every two points in a horse's speed rating is equivalent to a length in a race.

Now if you will excuse me, I'm getting packed for an extended trip to Arizona and Nevada. There I will visit many friends, play a lot of poker, handicap races and search for a horse that is equal to Rincon in style, appearance and speed. And this time, dear reader, I'm going to plunk the money down.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter. If you have a unique gambling story to share with him, you may qualify for a cash award. Send your story with all the details to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).