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Within an oval of green grass encircled by white fencing, trainers toss jockeys into the saddle when the call to post rings out. Adrenaline floods through your veins as you settle yourself on your mount's back and prepare for the most important race of the day. With $500,000 dollars at stake, you're ready to bring <b>Ah Maze You</b> under the wire in first place for the <b>Vanderbilt Handicap</b>--and lay to rest any doubts the racing world has about this colt after his underwhelming performance during the Triple Crown series.
Two jock switches, new owners evidenced by the blue-and-green diamond-paned silks on your back... the only constant in Ah Maze You's life has been his trainer. If she believes in him, so do you.
<b>Gwen Taylor</b> pats your boot while you adjust your reins. Then she releases Ah Maze You's bridle and the pair of you join the the post parade.
[[Exit the paddock.]]Ah Maze You seems a little sluggish this afternoon. His bright chestnut ears don't even twitch when the lead pony's head nudges his.
[[Stroke his mane and talk to him.]]
[[Tighten the reins and urge him into a trot.]]The colt responds to your low voice and calm hand on his mane. His stride picks up gently, until the lead pony rider lets you go and you're both loping along the backstretch turn. You keep chatting to Ah Maze You and watch his ears prick in alertness. He seems to have woken up.
[[Get in line for the starting gate.]]When you gather the reins, Ah Maze You's head snaps up and he bolts, breaking free from the lead pony rider... and catching you off-guard. Before you can blink, you're soaring over the colt's withers, the dirt rushing up to meet you.
[[Roll away from Ah Maze You's hooves.]]"Loose horse on the track!" The race-caller affirms what you already know: Ah Maze You is booking it down the dirt, past the horses in front of you. A pair of outriders go charging after him as a paramedic comes toward you.
[[Tell them you're all right.]]
[[Wait a second. Is your shoulder dislocated?]]The outriders bring Ah Maze You back down the track. The colt seems fine, if suddenly frisky, and Gwen's assistant ducks out to give you a leg up. You fold the reins loosely this time, letting the colt have just enough of his head.
Now back to business.
[[Get in line for the starting gate.]]Ouch. Well, these things happen. You sigh, heading off the track as the outriders catch Ah Maze You and pull him up. Gwen Taylor is storming along the fence, and you brace yourself; whatever words she has for you are bound to be more painful than your shoulder.
Instead, she heads straight for the colt. You push your goggles up and strain to hear her conversation with her assistant and the veterinarian. As the paramedic jerks your shoulder back into place, you watch Gwen shake her head.
Ah Maze You isn't running today, and your shot at that sweet $500,000 purse is gone.
[[THE END|Riders Up!]]Nine three-year-old colts mill around on the dirt behind a steel-toothed contraption painted deep green. This race is six furlongs, and the tractor has wheeled the gate all the way back to the chute--the extra runway that feeds onto the track from the backstretch.
You've drawn post position five, which suits Gwen Taylor. The trainer thinks Ah Maze You will benefit from the shorter distance, and you agree. Based on his performances in the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont Stakes, the longer Ah Maze You is on the dirt, the longer it takes for him to find himself.
Opinions vary, however.
"Couldn't make it at Belmont," one of your compatriots observes as his mount is guided into the number four post. "What makes Taylor think he'll show up for Saratoga?"
[[Ignore Yanick Broyard. He has a big mouth.]]Big mouth or not, Broyard's comment sticks in your head. When the starting bell clangs and the gate snaps open, Ah Maze You lunges forward. You're barely ready for him, still chewing on the opinion Broyard tossed at you. It's one most of the racing world shares. No one thinks Ah Maze You is going to show today.
Guess you and he will have to prove everyone wrong.
[[Let Ah Maze You go to the lead.]]
[[Rate Ah Maze You and wait to make your move.]]At Saratoga, pace is paramount. Only rarely do winners come from behind, and Ah Maze You just isn't that kind of horse anyway. Now that he's situated and steady underneath you, he seems to have remembered why he's there. His stride is long and confident, his head up. If he can maintain his lead, you'll likely avoid the traffic issues he experienced in the Derby.
As the pack moves down the backstretch, a figure appears on your periphery. Trainers know that handing <b>Joel Canseco</b> a speedster is basically printing money; in the first decade of his career he's turned race-riding into an art form, and nowhere is he more dangerous than in a sprint. What's worse is that he loves New York tracks and knows Saratoga by heart--but that's the joy and terror of jockeying: make it past a certain level, and you'll be riding with more than one generation of heroes.
His mount, a scrawny bay named Dontquoteme, might be little but he's torching the pace like a Bugatti. It's too soon to ask Ah Maze You for more, but you fear losing the lead.
[[Go head to head. They want to duel? Ah Maze You will bring it.]]
[[Let Ah Maze You drift out to avoid locking onto Dontquoteme.]]Maybe not the best option. Ah Maze You might not be the problem here--you need to sharpen up and get your mind on the dirt. The colt clearly wants the lead--he's testing the bridle, straining your grip on the reins until your shoulders pop--and you're starting to regret not letting him go for it.
It's a sprint. You only have so much space to maneuver.
Forget Broyard's gossip, forget the spectators' opinions, forget what Gwen Taylor wants and forget your own nerves: this is a horse race, and if you don't pay attention, someone's getting hurt.
[[Let Ah Maze You have his head and aim between the front-rank horses.]]
[[Keep Ah Maze You gathered in and aim for a gap opening up on the rail.]]
The colts feed off each other, all frothed breath and flying dirt. You've barely got Ah Maze You in hand: he's jonesing for an all-out bolt. A glance right tells you that Canseco got Dontquoteme this far and this fast with just a hand-ride--no telling what might happen if he goes to the whip for the stretch. You've got the better position; you know he'd rather be on the rail, saving ground, but he was still confident enough in the bay's chances to sneak up from outside.
All bad signs for Ah Maze You.
That said, your colt is still cruising, and the rest of the field is trailing. You hear telltale curses, chirps, and pops of the whip behind you as the other jocks drive their mounts, desperate for a burst to put them ahead.
It's the top of the stretch.
[[Ask Ah Maze You for more speed with a left-handed whip.]]
[[Loosen the reins and let him have his head.]]Sometimes instincts need to be overridden, and this is one of those times. As Ah Maze You drops speed, he also loses his laser-eyed focus. Suddenly the racehorse is gone, and the pack animal has taken his place. Bodies crowd in around you, the rest of the runners catching up. Your grip on the lead is gone; the pace has changed, and it's now controlled by Dontquoteme.
Ah Maze You doesn't like close company. Traffic is what killed his chances in the Kentucky Derby, and you've landed him in it once again.
You can already see the disappointment on Gwen Taylor's face.
[[Slide under the wire and off the board.|Riders Up!]]The colt doesn't respond well to your asking. He lugs out, bumping Dontquoteme with neither horse losing speed. You're hanging on, a handful each of mane and rein, as you plummet toward the post locked in step with Dontquoteme. Credit to the bay's jock: Canseco is silent, no cursing at you or frantic cajoling of his mount. But he's also not taking back; the two of them are still plunging ahead full-tilt. They're not giving up.
You can't either.
You tuck your whip back down and urge Ah Maze You on with hands and reins, so close to Dontquoteme that you feel the colt's wet flank pressed to your leg. The crowd's cacophony is deafening, and it's difficult to tell what they're yelling at. Probably your sloppy maneuvering. But as Ah Maze You gallops out, you realize he slid home first... and that there's an inquiry on the tote board.
You can't exactly blame Canseco for calling your bullshit. Gwen Taylor, your trainer, isn't likely to be pleased either.
[[Wait for the stewards' decision.]]You're starting to believe "loose on the lead" was coined to describe Ah Maze You. The colt you watched get into trouble three races in a row is nowhere to be seen, replaced with a steady-driving machine. He doesn't seem like he needs encouragement, but you lean into his mane, tucked as tight as possible with your arms pumping to keep him going, going...
Gone.
The white-painted post blazes by. The crowd's roar encompasses you, but you can't tell what they're screaming about. It might simply be excitement over a thrilling stretch duel--or it might be that your longshot just paid off in huge dividends for certain discerning bettors.
You gather Ah Maze You back in, turning him as he slows and glancing at the infield screen. PHOTO FINISH flashes in neon-red letters. A few yards off, Joel Canseco and Dontquoteme are galloping out too, the little bay still looking fresh and ready to fight.
[[Take Ah Maze You toward the fence to wait for the official result.]]
Victory! The stewards have called the finish in favor of Ah Maze You. You and the colt trot up to where Gwen Taylor waits with her groom, patting his neck and assuring him he's wonderful.
"Nice ride," a cool voice says, and you look over to see Canseco next to you.
He reaches out his free hand to shake. His approval is just a garnish on top of a great race delivered by a colt you know is going to be major. Ah Maze You is a late bloomer, maybe, but it's obvious he's coming into himself.
All you can hope, as you and the horse enter the winners' circle, is that Ah Maze You's connections see you as part of that development--and that you'll be aboard for his next adventure.
[[THE END|Riders Up!]]<center>[[WELCOME TO THE SPA...|Riders Up!]]</center>
<center><a data-flickr-embed="true" <a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/80340800@N05/9686456187/in/photolist-fLf6rY-n5cwfF-n7iTkH-fLf4g7-p3HdYE-fKXx2a-n7j2eM-fLfcs1-fLf7w5-fKXzjp-fLf5jd-fKXBXi-fKXD38-oLfZKZ-p1Hj7m-oLuanm-4nbCF-p3tSmT" title="Saratoga Race Course-Welcome"><img src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3763/9686456187_f310d4154a_b.jpg" width="1024" height="683" alt="Saratoga Race Course-Welcome"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script></center>Not this time. The win goes to Dontquoteme, with Ah Maze You taken down to second place for interference.
Gwen Taylor is not going to be pleased. You hope this doesn't damage your chances of getting on her other horses.
[[THE END|Riders Up!]]Ah Maze You is fast but the hole left by Felix Hamilton's mount checking closes even faster. Your colt's hooves tangle with hers and the motion that every jockey tries to avoid encountering ripples up through Ah Maze You: he stumbles, and you go flying.
The dirt at Saratoga today is fast, packed hard and hot as concrete. Hoofbeats thrum around you as you land, heels over head. Right now adrenaline is pumping too fast to determine what's going to hurt in a few minutes--and Ah Maze You is bolting loose.
Any chance for the two of you to end up with the laurels is gone.
[[Roll under the fence for safety and wait for the paramedics.|Riders Up!]]
The number nine horse under Felix Hamilton and the number four, somehow running well despite his handicap of Yanick Broyard's big mouth, each check their speed to avoid bumping Ah Maze You. Their jocks might be pissed, but Ah Maze You is picking it up, and everyone else needs to get out of the way.
Only one colt is still pulling ahead, dirt spraying up from his hooves. You chirp to Ah Maze You and urge him up alongside the number seven, a bay called Dontquoteme.
[[Can you catch up in time?|Loosen the reins and let him have his head.]]