Look of Eagles – Winter is Coming

“Out on the road today I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac,
Little voice inside my head said don’t look back you can never look back.”

I’m going to ignore Don Henley’s advice and look back, maybe its because in another life so long ago I had Dead Head stickers on my Mustang or maybe its just because I need to ruminate on the year. What a long strange trip its been this year in sports and racing. Your sometimes amusing, often presumptuous narrator is still walking through life with a heavy heart. It is hard to see a boyhood passion rise to such heights and fall so painfully short. The quest of the Tigers this year was like something out of the Once and Future King. An entire state coming along with these grail knights, seeking the cup which we had for so long thought impossible to find in this land. Kenny Rogers, the Gambler, Percival, was divine. He rose to heights not seen since days before the Titanic hadn’t even been built in Liverpool and Kings still played Risk over the maps of Europe. We had that proverbial fire from heaven, young arrogant and wickedly fast pitching with a core of veteran bats and vagabonds. The grail was ours, for the Tigers, for the state, for an entire fan base that watched them fall under .500 for a decade and more. Alas there is no joy in Tigerville. We did not strike out, but were buried in an avalanche of errors and miscues that doomed our striped beasts just as certainly as Vesuvius’ Requiem. And so it is with a heavy heart that I turn my eyes to the track, trying to take solace in the magnificence of the thoroughbred. On this Breeder’s Cup day we await the anointment of the great King and hold our collective breaths as we gaze among one of the best of Indy’s progeny. Will he draw the sword from the stone? Will he span generations of greatness, from the humble Slew, through his regal father, to a track in Kentucky, just past All Souls Day? Greatness it is said, can never be recognized when you walking among it. It is only when you look back that you realize what it was and you give it a name, and then you realize that you walked with Giants, or dancing bears, as it may be.

This racing year has seen grandeur and heartbreak. There was Sigfried charging home at Churchill on the first Saturday in May, only to fall in a field of flowers two weeks later, born off to Equine Valhalla by Valkyries of old. The Flash was back, piercing the shadows and fog with a stirring triumph in the Aristides, yet little did we know his time in this mortal coil was ever so short. It is said best in the database for all future fans to read, RIP Brilliant Boy! You are missed.

None of the horses running in today’s mile have ever reached these heights. Most are some version of the many talent 3yos that ran this year. At times they may have flirted with greatness, but for whatever reason they never reached the pantheon. Corinthian, A.P. Warrior, Sinister Minister, Sweetnorthernsaint, Cause to Believe, Steppenwolfer and so on. A fine crop it was. A commitatus band that you would have went ashore with. Sword Danes. The ring givers, Brother Derek, Bluegrass Cat and the Great One showed us the best the breed has to offer. That is history calling, quantum leaping through the future. You are among giants.

And so come Saturday, this year comes to a close, at least on the track. Oh, there will be a Cigar Mile which will crown a Cat and lead to wonder, and regret. A Derby horse will be found in the Remsen, and a Patriot in these times of War is being forged in the backstretches of Churchill. Tiz Wonder to believe in apple pie and the flag, that defiant symbol of liberty, blazing glory that never wavers in the face of darkness and fanaticism. But elsewhere, for those running Saturday, this will be the best they have to offer this year. Nobody waits, everybody goes said Lew Armistead on a Pennsylvania field. Let’s heed his advice and look at the horses making the charge today, in the GR Simsters Breeder’s Cup Mile (Turf).

“We can be Heroes, just for one day” was a song sung around the barn of Colonel Childers. I had another word for it; said in repetition of course, fake fake fake fake. Yes, the former claimer out of Aptitude went on win, somehow, a GI mile race. That can never be taken from him. Much like Ron Dayne, who forever gets to be introduced as “Heisman Trophy winner Ron Dayne”, the Colonel gets to be called a GI winner until the end of time. He’s out of form now, and its unlikely he’ll make much of an impact in this race, start 39 as it is. But we’ll always have Paris, well, before the French became traitors I guess. No, if not Paris, than a GI and a trophy to prove it. And isn’t that better than Pernod and baguettes anyway?

Before Marshall Murat (besieged by the French! Enough you fool! When your narrator begins talking to himself mid column you know you’ve followed the white rabbit to the place where Alice walked) launched the greatest cavalry charge in history at the Battle of Eylau, he spelled out his named with his horses’ hooves in the snow. The arrogance, the audacity, I love it! Even though he was French. All right, I’ll throw France a bone; I love the Soup, melted cheese, salty broth and croutons with onion surprise? Who’s against that? Not even Rumsfield I would wager. Or maybe he is. Alas, Atlas, I am weak. But back to Murat, this is the audacity of Ends in Ski. Third start, 2/3, first stakes race, seeking the gold here? He could ride with Murat any day, through the snow and blood up past and through the Russian squares, saving the Napoleon and winning the day. Incidentally, Eylau was fought in Poland and Ends in Ski’s dam sire is Polish Numbers. Hmmm…. Should I bet the house Blondie? Go take a nap, wait a bit.

King me. Everyday people by the hundreds, maybe thousands play checkers online. Or answer questions at funtrivia.com, or shout at each other, or rather type REALLY LOUD at one another about movies, or actors, or something. And we haven’t even gotten to free porn yet. Yes, the Internet. It’s faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantastic! Crown Me King hasn’t made it in graded company but rolls back here in an open stakes, which may lead to a big running. Maybe not as classy as some of the others here, but you can walk into a triple jump easily enough, so who knows, this might be his day.

An ambitious entry by the Lannister clan with Stormborn. Oh heck, you have to try it, when you play the game of thrones, you either win or die. Sure, Stormborn has never won a route, but a victory here would make this once promising horse a legend, in Lannister circles of course, but a legend nonetheless. Not sure how a Green Desert out of a Vice Regent mare gets to be Stormborn, but hey, we were all young and innocent back then. Little chance, but in good form.

A bold entry for Always Demoney. Paper says no way. But the Patriots ripped up the script in 2001 didn’t they? Will need a Tom Brady like effort to place. Ahh but never underestimate the great Tom Brady. He can bring home the race, or the Super Bowl, or the marlin, as it may be. And if you get the reference in there, I am impressed!

“Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways”

Ode to Transylvania, or a nightingale. My hero, my heartbreaker, my could have been. Can Love whisper to the ghosts in his ear? I know what you did last summer, when we were young with braids in our hair and grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches outside of Soldier Field. Dancing bears, do you remember? Oh these children of the night, what sweet music they make. In sweet November. You and me, one more time?

A vastly under-rated movie is the Count of Monte Cristo. An excellent story, revenge ah that dish. How hard is it to serve this cold? Us, Gen X/Y babies raised with egos the size of China. We want the world and we want it now. Instant access and gratification is our tagline, could we plot and savor the revenge of Dantes? Speaking of taglines, you want great ones? In space, no one can hear you scream. Love Never Dies, helpless corny unless you realize its from a horror movie. The Viscount bred Eight Sided Oil (nice dam) is young and has potential (ah that word again!). Confined to the prison? Or taking vengeance on Mondego? Rapier or rock? Can you hear the scream? The scream, of the butterfly?

“You see, this profession is filled to the brim with unrealistic m*/*+%&^. M*/%$###* who thought their a$$ would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don’t.”

So what are you saying about Apex Snapping?

“In the fifth, you’re a$$ goes down. Say it.”

OK,

“In the fifth, my a$$ goes down.”

But we all know how that turned out for Marsellus don’t we?

Did anyone actually finish Vice City? Well other than Tommy Vercetti? How about Grand Theft Auto? San Andreas? Nah. Didn’t play the last one, got the furthest on Vice City, played it with a friend, took turns. Killed about 10,000 people. When I get high I get high on speed, top fuel funny cars a drug for me. Go ahead Vercetti tell ‘em about your heart. My heart? Kickstart my heart. Always got the cops comin’ after me, custom built horse (Sadler’s Wells x Slew x Danehill) doing 103? Probably will take that to win. Does he have it in him? All you got in this world is your word and your….

So who is the most famous Hitman in the movies? This horse out of Strike the Gold? Nah, we have other options. This one is looking for a big hit, a prime contract. Could happen, but how about Leon? The Professional, you remember? Don’t tell me you were thinking those thoughts about Natalie Portman were you? At least wait until Beautiful Girls, wow. I’m not too impressed with the way Natalie has turned out, but she does have one of the all time great movie lines, even if she was terrorist. “Thank you, but I’d rather die behind the chemical sheds.” Evey Hammond certainly had strength in her convictions. Stop playing six degrees though, what about those hitmen? How about the guy from Untouchables, the wicked dude in the white suit that wacked Sean Connery? Angelina Jolie in Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Leather suited Jolie…hmmm…but only for the weekend, she’s insane. Literally. I know you want Jules Winfield and Vincent Vega. “We should have f***%%$&&* shotguns.” Saddle up rambler and load up the double odd buck.

And from California, we have Breman’s Curse and Chester Copperpot. Where is Ziklag? All his would be challengers are here, Transylvania, Stormborn and Chester Copperpot. O Captain, my Captain! I like the Storm Cat here, finally a horse I like to win other than rhyme, muse and obsfucate about? Yes, I’ve made my pick and it’s a cat, a cat, my kingdom for a cat! Come now, don’t you want to treat your readers to a more thoughtful reason why you like the Cat (or Curse)? It would be a nice thing, even a courageous thing. Wait a minute courageous? What does courage have to do with picking a horse? Well, you must have strength in your convictions, it takes resolve to…oh who am I kidding, I just wanted to work courage in here so I could use this Pirates quote (and reference the lovely Elizabeth Swann)

“Elizabeth Swann : There will come a time when you’ll have the chance to do something courageous, to do the right thing.

Jack Sparrow – I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by”

I love that quote! And what a movie. Sometimes it can all be grand. Life, racing, movies, sports. Yes, we may be born Tigers, but sometimes you get a taste of what its like to be a Yankee. Plus, there is always the Red Dawn war yelp….WOLVERINES!!! Alba Gu Brath!