Strewn with Broken Hearts

By Tom Callahan

From dead last, Gato del Sol takes the roses

The favorites that did not fall out before last Saturday's Kentucky Derby fell back during it. Gato del Sol, a 21-1 shot, went into the first turn last and passed 18 horses to win the Derby. It was hardly a classic one: the "greatest two minutes in sport" ran over this year by more than a couple of seconds. Yet Kentuckians were moved all the same, some to tears.

They thought of Bull Hancock, the late master of Claiborne Farm, the preeminent breeder of Thoroughbred racing, a man at the foundation of the sport. He died in 1972 without realizing his great dream--a Derby winner of his own.

Bull sired two sons: Seth, now in charge at Claiborne, and Arthur B. Hancock III, the black sheep. When the pressures of being Bull's son got to Arthur, he went his own way. He liked to pick at country music and even cut an album in Nashville. Still, Arthur was bred to be a horseman, and he started his own smaller enterprise--away from Claiborne--Stone Farm. In partnership with Leone J. Peters, he is the owner of Gato del Sol. The Hancocks finally have a Derby winner. "I want to dedicate it to my dad," said Arthur Hancock. "He taught me all I know."

Eddie Gregson, a former movie actor who trains for the former country singer, said immediately that Gato del Sol would not even go to the Preakness, the second Triple Crown jewel in two weeks, but the tugging of tradition will be strong. "He's had a hard campaign," Gregson said of the handsome gray colt. "I had planned all along for just the Derby and the Belmont Stakes [the third jewel in five weeks]. I don't want to ruin my horse." He had an undeniable point.

In the days leading up to the first Saturday in May, a recurring horror was trotted out over and over again: race horses are bred for fragility as well as speed. They get their ligaments mangled at least as much as any other athletes and break their legs as often as skiers. Last year the fallen favorite was Lord Avie. This year there was a list.

Timely Writer, the early favorite, survived emergency abdominal surgery April 20, perhaps to run again in a few months. The next most admired colt, Hostage, took a false step in a workout five days before the race and fractured an ankle. He is through racing.

Hostage's trainer, Mike Freeman, tried to convey a jaunty philosophy, but his hands were shaking: "As LeRoy Jolley says, 'You don't play this game in short pants.' " Jolley's chilling line was coined in 1975 on the tragic occasion of the filly Ruffian's match race against Kentucky Derby Winner Foolish Pleasure. Ruffian's right foreleg snapped, and she was destroyed. Jolley trained Foolish Pleasure.

His sentiment, or lack of it, is common in the business. As one eminent three-year-old after another fell apart this spring -- Deputy Minister, Stalwart, Lets Dont Fight, et al. -- the horsemen's reaction was generally to shrug and say, "This is racing." But the fans tend more to be of the Black Beauty school of horse lovers, and the anthropomorphizing before the 108th Derby was fierce.

Peter and Franny Martin, the Boston butchers who own Timely Writer, tried not to be too sad. In a bright show of horsemanship, the brothers attended all of the Derby functions in Louisville between commutes to Lexington to visit their recuperating pet. At each expression of condolence, Peter Martin would say, "I'm a realist. The road to the roses is strewn with broken hearts." One inconsolable woman replied, "But I'm a dreamer." "Ah, there's your problem," he told her gently. "Dreamers get hurt."

The dreamers' choice in the Derby was Cassaleria, a one-eyed colt with claustrophobia, the solitary member of the "20/20 Stable" (slogan: "Thine eye has seen the glory"). Cassaleria is another star-crossed son of Pretense, the father of poor Sham, who would have won any other Kentucky Derby and most other Preaknesses but finished second to Secretariat on both occasions in 1973. One of Cassaleria's first bobbling steps after birth tumbled him into a fence post and poked out his left eye, leaving a sorry-looking fleshed-over socket.

Understandably, tight quarters alarm Cassaleria. He needs to see the sky. And barns are too dark. So a special open-air shed was constructed at Churchill Downs by his gang of part owners. They have not been able to do enough for Cassaleria since last November, when he won the El Camino Real Derby at Bay Meadows in San Mateo, Calif. After the race they realized that his good eye had been covered over with mud. He had run blind. The track was fast last Saturday, but Cassaleria ran 13th. He never seemed to be leading with the correct foot. "Cassaleria didn't seem to get ahold of the track," said Jockey Darrel McHargue.

Another recipient of human compassion last week was Real Dare, the only gelding in this year's Derby. He finished last. Not that anyone.expected Real Dare to win. He had finished last in the Louisiana Derby. But there is more at stake in Real Dare's life than derbies. A revolutionary operation to restore his manhood is being contemplated. The Jockey Club, arbiter of breeding and cold even to artificial insemination, does not know what to say about this. Breeding is the essential industry of Thoroughbred racing, and, in the midst of this broken-down year, it is a somewhat consoling thought that the fate awaiting prematurely retired colts is not entirely unpleasant. -- By Tom Callahan

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