The Psycho Clown Stakes Myth
As this reporter roamed the backstretch and barn area of this sea-side track, whispers of the myth associated with the naming and running of The Psycho Clown Stakes were prevelant throughout the area. My curiosity became insaitable when I learned that a few old timers who were familiar with the myth still ran horses at this track. So early this morning I set out to find some first hand answers to the mystery of The Psycho Clown.
As I made my way through the dense fog enveloping the barn area, I stumbled upon 4 ageded veterans of the racing game seated on stools surrounding a small table. They were playing cards in the silence of the of the fog, I seemed to startle them as I emerged from the pea soup fog unanounced. A strange pause ensued as we took stock of each other, the eldest looking of the group looked up at me and said “you startled me boy..kind of foolish of you to be wandering about this place alone son! best to have company in weather like this”..I’ll admit it startled me some to find these 4 gray shadows hunkered down so close together. “I’m looking for Charlie Bates” I replyed “I’m told he’s stabled at barn 6” I added on. “What do you want with Charlie son?” asked a smallish man seated with his back to me. “I’ve been told he knows something about the Psycho Clown myth…seems he and barn 6 are as famous as the myth..I’m a writer..”..”now hold up there son”..the edlest gentleman said as he raised his hand and pointed a finger in my direction. “A writer you say?”..”Yes sir, a writer!..I’m told that Charlie knows the truth of the story..and I want to tell the story.”..”ya do ayeh!!?..well I’m Charlie Bates and this is barn 6..set on that hay bail there and I’ll tell you directly.”
“Psycho Clown was a horse..a dappled gray with a champions heart..he started late in his two year old season but come December he was 4/5 with 3 victories and a Gr II place..some folks said that he was tripple crown bound….in January of his third year in his very first race at Gulfstream Park, his heels were clipped and he went down hard. He rolled head over heels and lay spralled out at the head of the stretch. When he rose up and outrider came up to him and he bolted away, he bolted every time another horse came up to him. Finally, his trainer approached him on foot and was able to lead him back to the barn. The horse never recovered from that fall..many months later when he ran again, he raced wide and every time a horse would get near him, he’d run further out on the track..he stopped winning and eventually was sold from owner to owner, moved from barn to barn. In his 5th year a fellow by the name of Red Deavers bought him and gave him to me to train. My luck with him was no different. ‘Ol Red was well off and had a young daughter with a rare bone disease, a disease she wouldn’t beat. But she and that horse fell in love. When she had the strength, she would come to this very barn..barn6 stall 5 over yonder..and she would groom and walk Psycho Clown. Her doctors told Red that it kept her going, he was her only hope. Four or five months or so passed by and the little girl stopped comming.
A few weeks passed and Red arrived one morning and said “it’s time we let him go”..I told Red that he was entered in a 6f short priced claimer the following week and that maybe we should let him run one last time for Casey. He agreed.
The following morning, in the early morning light, I was standing at the rail watching several of my horses work, when the sound of footprints from behind startled me. As I turned, I saw the familiar face of an old friend, it was Dance Knightly. A stellar young jockey who’s high flying career was ended by a sever spill that splintered his wrist, broke his arm and shattered was very well could have been a hall of fame career. He was standing there with shallow eyes, dirty clothes and an outstretched hand. As we shook hands he said “Charlie, I’m broke..do you have any work I could do..stalls..hot walk.. anything?”..I nodded in agreement..”coffee I said?”..he nodded back and we ambled over to the track cafeteria. As we were leaving the mess, he took 2 apples from a basket by the door. He put one in his pocket and polished the other on his sleeve as we walked back to barn 6. Start anywhere I said..stalls 1-4 are on the track, I’ll work them..the other six need mucking and the horses walked. When Dance approached stall #5 I saw him read the name plate on the bridle..”Charlie” he hollered..”you train Psycho Clown?..I know this horse”..yeah.. the two of you have alot in common..in better times you might have ridden him under the wire” was my reply. Dance hollered back “can he still run”..not anymore was my reply. I watched as Dance sank his teeth into the apple and presented it to the horse. Psycho Clown poked his head over the stall webbing and took a half apple bite of his own.
Dance was steady at his work, he arrived early every day and shared his apples with Psycho. Early in the follwing week Mr. Deavers dropped by. He asked his normal questions then inquired..”who’s riding Psycho Clown Friday?” ..ain’t got a rider yet Red, nobody wants to ride him I replied..heck he’ll probably go off at 50/1 as usual. Can’t bribe nobody to exercise him either. Red’s scraped his boot in the dirt and stated..”we should scratch him then and let him go..Charlie it’s only a $5K claimer”. Dance poked his head out from stall 5 and said “I’ll take the mount Charlie..I’ll ride him for 20 bucks against the standard payoff..I’ll exercise him this afternoon for ya for free..got a better deal?” Deavers asked “who’s that?”..When I introduced the two..he was taken aback when Dance said.”I need a favor..can you get me a license to ride at this track..do you have the pull?”…”‘Why should I” confronted Deavers…”because this horse can win..I can ride him under the wire and we’ll run for Casey”..that was a low blow, but Deavers bit.
That afternoon cooler air arrived and a fog moved up Narragansett Bay. It wasn’t to heavy a first but by mid afternoon the backstretch was thick as pea soup. When the three of us arrived for the workout I was inclined to cancel due to the poor visability. Dance insisted on continuing..”heck we got the place to ourselves he chuckled” and trotted Psycho Clown onto the track. They cantered down the stretch and as they rounded the club house turn they disappeared into the dense mist. Shortly thereafter I heard the crack of a whip and a voice scream out “Haaa ..get up there”..a short time later nearing the far turn, horse and rider re-emerged from the fog bank moving nicely along the rail. When the duo got close enough to me I could see that Psycho Clown was a bit winded but sound, within himself. As Dance dismounted he leaned over and whispered “I swear he ran 3 in 35..maybe 35 & 2..he’s ready for Friday!”
Dance got his license and the two were sitting in the 12 box when the gates flew open for race #2. Psycho Clown blew out of the gate and headed straight for the lead. Dance kept him wide throughout where he would never see the rump of another horse. He charged through the turn and was clear by 9 when they passed under the wire. When the tote board flashed a time of 1:08 3/5 seconds I began to pray…don’t nobody claim my horse. The two of them repeated this thyme 3 more times and were in PP12 for the running of ..which at that time was a 10f stakes called The America’s Guest. It was the first return to stakes level competition for both of them in years.
When the gates opened Psycho Clown stepped inward crashing Dance’s right shoulder against the frame of the gate. He dropped his whip and lost his right hand grip of the reigns. from the outside the 14 horse was running hard pinching in on The Clown trying to beat him to the turn and force him back. That’s when Knightly put the reigns in his mouth and slapped Psycho on his shoulder with his left hand, he hit him hard twice setting him to a drive inside a quarter mile. Psycho Clown responded forcing himself through the closing gap to maintain his position. Four horses raced side by side through the club house turn, rubbing and brushing boots and saddles throughout..the quarter was clocked in 21& 3. When they straightened out down the back stretch the madness continued..the half in 43 even..six furlongs in 1:07 & 4. Red and I looked at each other in disbelief, it was still a long way home. In the far turn the 14 started to fade..two late runner were in full flight and had closed to within two lenrths of the leaders. At the head of the stretch the 2 horse along the rail was played out and faded back. And then It happened…Psycho Clown with his head lowered and his ears pricked forward surged on. With each stride he pulled away..2 lengths..then 4..then 7 when horse and rider cleared the wire it was 12 lengths and growing. The official time was 1:59 4/5 seconds…unofficially he was clocked at 1:58 and 2/5. When It was all over Red decided to retire him to stud and chartered a plane to take Psycho Clown to Kentucky. Dance went along for the ride. The plane went down in a storm over West Virginia, ground fog prevented an arial search for days.
The following year and every year since..there’s been fog..heavy thick fog the days preceeding the race. It lifts just long enough on Saturday afternoon for the races to be run, then settles back in. The race was renamed The Psycho Clown Bananza the following year. The first year the distance was kept at 10f..When the photo flashed a winner, there wasn’t a horse within 15 lengths of the wire..the tote board posted a time of 1:58 & 2. Some horses will train in the fog..some say they’ve heard the sounds of thundering hooves passing within feet of them yet see no horse or rider. On race day, track patrons have claimed to have witnessed a swirl through the fog on the backstretch as if a horse and rider moving with great speed was passing through it. They claim that if you look about 8 lengths ahead of the leader you’ll catch a faint glimps of a dappled gray moving swiftly through the mist.
And son..I’ve yet to discover the reasons why none of my horses will stay in stall #5 and why I keep finding a 1/2 eaten apple and riders whip in that stall” After hearing this tale I decided to hang about the barn until the others moved on. I can still hear the clop clop clop of hooves against the pavement as horse and rider walked undetected through the fog at the far end of barn 6.