Frosted brings joy to this old race fan
The older I get, the more I appreciate the rare moments at the races that manage to burn memories in my soul. Forty some odd years of being a passionate racefan have taught me what truly matters most. Although I love being a horseplayer, it's not about the occasional big scores at the track. I also love the horse. There is no creature on earth which spending time with offers quite the same joy -- but even being around them is not my favorite part of this sport. The good company of friends and family at the track is also one of the many great things associated with a day at the races, but still, for me, there is something better. Seeing a great horse, that I love, do something special in a big race, is what it is all about. I'm not sure I can adequately put the feeling or the emotion into words, but one thing I can tell you is that Frosted has done it for me in his last two races.
Yesterday’s Whitney Handicap was the perfect example of what will keep me coming back to the track for as long as I am still able to get around. A sports fan since I can remember, I actually find myself appreciating horse racing more and more, while my interest in other sports is on the decline. While there are always great performances to be seen by human athletes, it just does not provide the same emotion for me as the exhilaration of watching true equine excellence. Having a great team come together as one, can occasionally come close, but when the horse happens to be a favorite, well … nothing beats that.
In the early years, it was horses like Wajima and Waya; Alydar and Spectacular Bid. I rooted for them without fail, and with a childlike enthusiasm. That’s the thing about getting older, though. Much that was greeted with an innocence and a freshness to the world fades away with the passing years. That which was special, eventually loses its luster --but then you have horse racing. I cannot yet tell when the childlike enthusiasm I have for watching a race like Frosted winning the Whitney will wane. It is still as thrilling and exciting as it ever was. I feel a pride in victory as if I was the owner or trainer. I wonder if they enjoy it as much as I do.
I talk during the race. I root. I make physical gestures. Most of all, I smile. I cannot lie, there is a high level of anxiety, until the result is clear, but that is all part of it. I’m not really sure how I become so attached, but I do.
Five Star Flight, Princess Rooney, Lady’s Secret, Sunday Silence, Paradise Creek, Skip Away, Free House, Rachel Alexandra, and Groupie Doll; they were all some of my true favorites over the years. Each of them were graded stakes winners, but as a group they really don’t have much else in common. Turf or dirt, male or female, East or West, it seems to matter little. Horse racing is definitely a game where the heart comes into play. The last few years I have found Frosted.
There have been ups and downs. Disappointments outnumbered the thrill of victory until recently. And of course, there was the not too small matter of American Pharoah. Playing the part of foil to the greatest horse of this young century, may have been one of the things that drew me to Frosted. I could see how well he was racing only to be turned away by an exceptional racehorse. Of course, there is more to Frosted than running well and either winning or losing. He is more complex than that.
As a son of Tapit, there is bound to be a little more going on inside than the average horse, if you know what I mean. There have been races that he should have won, but he didn’t. He needed some tinkering. I imagined a time when he would finally put it all together, but at the same time, I worried that it would never come.
I tried to explain to anyone that would listen that he was running big in many of his losses, but I realize that falls on deaf ears. In this day and age, people really don’t have much time for losers. Loser being such a harsh word, I never thought of Frosted as a loser. Now, after the Met Mile and the Whitney, I don’t think anyone thinks of Frosted as the ‘L’ word.
Vindication was the word that came to mind after the 2016 Metropolitan Handicap. After the disappointment of the Dubai World Cup, Frosted needed to redeem himself. Well yes, he redeemed himself. Oh boy, did he redeem himself. Running a hole in the wind is probably a better description of what the Godolphin owned, and Kiaran McLaughlin trained colt did. A better performance I have not seen in a long, long time, and this comes from a guy who still remembers being at the ’73 Belmont. Reunited with Joel Rosario, in front of a huge crowd at Belmont Park, it was magical. Frosted will never run a better race than he did on that June afternoon, and I am OK with that.
On Saturday at Saratoga, Comfort, Effinex, and Upstart provided the solid competition for his encore to the Met Mile. The vindication of his supernatural win at Belmont, would mean less if he could not back it up with a win in the Whitney. I was nervous, but confident. I knew he would win, but I was ready to suck it up if he didn’t. Seeing Joel hand ride him down the stretch of all places, Saratoga, was good. It was very, very good.
My passion for seeing the talented gray run in person has gotten to the point, where I now no longer believe I can miss attending one of his races. Luckily, I am at a point in my life where I can do such a crazy thing. I also now know exactly why my father and his best racing buddy said the same thing nearly 50 years ago about a certain son of Rough ‘N Tumble. It’s in our blood, I guess. Frosted could take me to some pretty interesting places in the next year.
Win, lose, or draw, wherever Frosted does goes from here, I will always have the unforgettable memories of seeing him doing his thing in two of America’s most prestigious races. They were moments of pure happiness. It did not matter his odds, or who I was with. Seeing my favorite horse fulfill everything I could have hoped for him were magical moments in my lifetime. Short of hearing my girl say, “I do”, or the birth of my daughter, it really does not get any better.