Hangin' With Haskin : Allen Paulson

The Skip Trip

Blood-Horse Staff — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 19:08:00 GMT

First it was Holy Bull’s rampage in 1994 and then the reign of Cigar. No chronicle of the mid-to-late ‘90s would be complete without recognizing Skip Away’s career, which football pundits would call smash-mouth racing.

The story of Skip Away revolves around four basic elements – his remarkable statistics, his toughness, the love of his owner Carolyn Hine, and the inspiring final days of his trainer Sonny Hine.

I will focus first on his stats and toughness before getting to the human side of his story.

To give you an example of just how brilliant and resilient Skip Away was, I surprisingly will start off with his workouts before I even get to his racing record. You can search far and wide and you won’t find anything comparable to what Skip Away accomplished in the morning.

During his career, he turned in an amazing 53 bullet works, along with 21 works that were the second-fastest at the distance. Just think of it: 74 works that were the first or second-fastest times on the tab.

Nowadays, you’d be hard-pressed to find trainers working their horses farther than five furlongs on more than an occasional basis. Skip Away worked six furlongs 30 times. In addition to having six works within the 1:10 and 1:10 3/5 range, he turned in a 1:08 3/5 drill at Belmont Park in 1997. At five furlongs, he worked in under 1:00 29 times, 10 of those under :59, including a :57 1/5 work at Gulfstream. At four furlongs, he had 11 works ranging from :46 1/5 to :46 4/5. From March 21 to April 21, 1998, he turned in six consecutive bullet works, and would have had seven had his 1:23 3/5 seven-furlong drill not been the only work at the distance.

Track conditions never stopped his trainer Sonny Hine, who worked Skip Away 19 times on an off track – 10 in the slop, five in the mud, and four on a good track.

OK, you get the picture. His racing career was no different, as he utilized that same brilliance and ruggedness in the afternoons as well, finishing in the money in 34 of his 38 starts. Of the four times he was out of the money, one was his career debut at five furlongs, in which he broke poorly; one came when he bled badly and was eased early in his 3-year-old campaign; and the other two came at Churchill Downs (in the Kentucky Derby and Breeders’ Cup Classic). Churchill proved to be the only track he couldn’t handle. Following his Derby fiasco, he finished in the money in 26 consecutive races, 25 of them graded stakes, 20 of which were grade I.

Skip Away was not the type of horse who would beat you in the final eighth of a mile, or even the final quarter of a mile. His strength (he was one of the strongest horses I’ve even been around) was his ability to run his opponents off their feet in the first three-quarters of a mile and keep going. He wasn’t going to dazzle you with his exceptional final quarters. But, having already demoralized his foes by running them into the ground, he didn’t need to close fast. When he had the lead turning for home, he was near-unbeatable. Of the 16 times he led at the head of the stretch, he won 14 of them. In those races, top-class horses Cigar, Gentlemen, Free House, Formal Gold, Will’s Way, Behrens, Deputy Commander, Louis Quatorze, Puerto Madero, and Editor’s Note couldn’t catch him. The only two times he didn’t win were in the Belmont Stakes after breaking from post 13 and the Gulfstream Park Handicap after going head and head every step of the way in demanding fractions, while giving nine pounds to the winner.

With Skip Away, there was no such thing as stealing a race with slow fractions. He didn’t believe in doing anything slow; that wasn’t his style. He ran hard, he ran fast, and he ran far. In his 1 1/4-mile victories, he set fractions of 1:09 3/5 and 1:33 4/5 in the Breeders’ Cup Classic (run in a stakes-record 1:59); 1:10 and 1:33 4/5 in the Jockey Club Gold Cup (run in 1:58 4/5); 1:09 3/5 and 1:34 in the Hollywood Gold Cup; and :46 3/5 and 1:10 1/5 in the Gulfstream Park Handicap. In his 1 1/8-mile wins, he went in :45 2/5, 1:09 flat, and 1:34 1/5 in the Woodward; 1:09 4/5 and 1:34 2/5 in the Haskell Invitational; 1:10 and 1:34 4/5 in the Philip H. Iselin (carrying 131 pounds); 1:10 1/5 and 1:34 4/5 in the Mass Cap (carrying 130 pounds); 1:10 1/5 and 1:34 4/5 in the Blue Grass Stakes; and in 1:10 3/5 in the Molson Million and 1:10 4/5 and Donn Handicap.

He did on occasion show the ability to win from off the pace in the final quarter, capturing the Suburban, Haskell, and Molson Million with strong stretch runs.

He didn’t even reach his peak until he was 5, putting together a nine-race winning streak, seven of them in grade I stakes, from Oct. ’97 to Sept. ’98.

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OK, enough of stats. The real story of Skip Away is in actuality a love story. In fact, it is two love stories – Carolyn Hine and her horse and Carolyn and Sonny. It might sound a bit far-fetched to say that Skip Away was the child they never had, but that is the way Carolyn described him. Some may cringe and some may find it endearing, but the most familiar sound at the barn when Carolyn was there was “Skippy, mommy loves you,” which Carolyn would say constantly to the horse, much to Sonny’s amusement.

The relationship between Sonny and Carolyn was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Sonny, despite having a tendency to complain about a ride or other minor things, had the most easy-going disposition, which is why I chose him to work for at Monmouth Park in 1991 for a four-part feature I did for the Daily Racing Form, titled “Life on the Backstretch.” For five days, I mucked stalls, walked hots, held horses as they were being washed, did countless other jobs around barn, attended backstretch card games, night time prayer meetings, vanned down to Atlantic City with one of Sonny’s horses who was running in the United Nations Handicap, and attempted unsuccessfully to sit in on drug counseling meetings, but did speak to some of the participants.

Sonny’s barn was the stopping off point for anyone needing to borrow money or sell a horse, or simply indulge in a bagel and cream cheese or a donut. Some of the more recognizable backstretch characters that resided in Sonny’s barn were their cats Morris, Chi Chi, and Pepi.

Although the Hines’ certainly had enough money, that didn’t stop Carolyn from saving grocery coupons and searching for bargains at Fortunoffs. They preferred a Chinese buffet to a three-star restaurant, and never once in 37 years did they take a honeymoon or a vacation. Their life was the horses and their love for each other, and that was it. According to Carolyn, their entire life together was a honeymoon.

What makes Sonny’s story all the more remarkable, and one that seemed mind-boggling to those who knew him, was that prior to becoming a horse trainer he was an FBI agent and worked for Air Force intelligence and the CIA. On one mission he had to infiltrate enemy lines during the Korean War to monitor Russian and Chinese pilots who had been causing a great deal of damage to American facilities. The mission, coordinated by the Air Force and the CIA, was so important and hush-hush, Marines were sent in to protect them and battleships were positioned off the coast to prevent any further Communist movement in the area.

Sonny, was a good friend of J. Edgar Hoover, spoke fluent Mandarin Chinese, and became adept at breaking Chinese codes for the National Security Agency, for whom he worked, along with the CIA, in Hong Kong, investigating fraud cases. He also spent time in Vienna monitoring the Hungarian refugees who had converged on Austria following Hungary’s revolution. He was ranked one of the top 10 investigators in the world by the State Department, won the Outstanding Service Award, and did investigative work for the House Un-American Activities Committee.

This was such a far cry from the affable, cherubic Sonny Hine everyone knew that it was difficult to picture that aspect of his life. What I found funny was that Sonny would say about his life with Carolyn, “We’re so plain and simple it’s probably boring to most people.”

When Sonny and Carolyn first were married they had $900 to their name and lived in an attic at old Narragansett Racetrack. They had to cook meat on aluminum foil because they didn’t own a pot. When they were at Charles Town it was so cold they had to sit back to back on a bed in the tack room to keep warm. They carried all their possessions from track to track in a U-Haul and couldn’t even afford curtains for their windows.

So, one can understand why, when Skip Away came along over 30 years later, Carolyn would call him their “Gift from God.” Sonny always felt that he was Carolyn’s reward for having to endure so much in those early years.

Because of that, they turned down a $5-million offer for the horse after his devastating victory in the Blue Grass. And when Skip Away became a household name, Sonny and Carolyn didn’t hesitate to put up $480,000 to supplement him to the Breeders’ Cup Classic. When Skip Away retired, he had earned over $9.6 million and won an Eclipse Award for champion 3-year-old in 1996, champion older horse in 1997, and Horse of the Year and champion older horse in 1998. But the rewards were far from over, which I’ll get to later on.

Sonny would kid Carolyn, asking her where he ranks in her life compared to Skip Away, and Carolyn would always answer: “Dead-heat.”

Perhaps they were even more appreciative of Skip Away knowing how they came to get him. Sonny had purchased the colt at the Calder 2-year-old sale for $30,000, only to have to return him on the advice of their veterinarian after X-rays revealed a chip in his ankle. Carolyn had already fallen in love with the horse, and she was disheartened as they left the sales pavilion and drove home. Sonny hung a leg on route 441, heading toward Hallandale Beach Boulevard, when he suddenly pulled off to the side of the road.

“Honey, there’s something about that horse,” he said to Carolyn. “I want to buy him anyway if you’re OK with it.”

Carolyn replied, “Well, it’s my birthday in a couple of weeks. That’ll be my birthday present.”

So, Sonny turned around and drove back to the sales pavilion and told the agent consigning the horse he still wanted to buy him, even with the ankle chip. The agent contacted the seller and breeder, who knocked $7,500 off the price in order to pay for any surgery that might be required. Sonny was confident in his ability as a horseman and decided not to have surgery performed. So, Skip Away went through his entire career, one of the most grueling in years, racing with a chip in his ankle, which was a testament to Sonny’s skills as a trainer.

****************

Darkness had fallen on Belmont Park, and Sonny stood alone in Barn 3, which housed what remained of the retiring Woody Stephens’ string of horses. Inside the barn, the 3-year-old Skip Away was cooling out after having defeated the mighty Cigar in the Jockey Club Gold Cup. As he passed Sonny, the colt gave a single cough.

Sonny didn’t hesitate. “Uh-oh, he coughed,” Sonny said. “Must be Cigar smoke.”

If there was any smoke it was from the torch that had just been passed. The racing world had been given a glimpse of the future, and its color was battleship gray.

As Skip Away fought off Cigar’s challenge down the stretch, Carolyn stood in her box, pounding the rail with both fists, shouting, “Come on Skip. Come on Skip.” As soon as they crossed the wire, with Skip Away the winner by a head, one of Carolyn’s guests shouted in disbelief. “You beat Cigar! You beat Cigar!”

Skip Away and Sonny could not have given Carolyn a better anniversary present. In the executive offices following the race, Sonny saw Cigar’s owner Allen Paulson and said to him, “You’re a credit to the game. I really admire you. You’ve gone everywhere and you’ve run everywhere – you’re really a great sport.” The torch had indeed been passed.

At the barn, Sonny handed out hundred-dollar bills to just about everyone in the barn, from Stephens’ stable help to the security guards. He and Carolyn had to catch a helicopter to the airport, but there was one more thing he had to see before they left.

“First he’s got to go in his stall and lay down and roll and then I’ll be happy,” Sonny said. As if on cue, Skip Away was led into the stall once occupied by Forty Niner and rolled over on both sides.

“Look at him,” Sonny said. “He’s still full of himself. He’s not even tired. Isn’t he amazing? He doesn’t get tired; he gets tougher. OK, now we can go home.”

**************

I knew what was coming and wasn’t looking forward to it. For Sonny and Carolyn, the gloom of a gray November morning befitted the occasion. It was time for them to say goodbye to Skip Away. They had followed the horse’s van from Churchill Downs to Hopewell Farm near Midway, and after their goodbyes they would begin their long drive home down to Florida, knowing Skip Away was no longer a part of their daily lives.

Carolyn had already done some heavy duty crying in the car, but she and Sonny knew the worst was yet to come. “The drive went too quickly,” Carolyn said after arriving at the farm. “It’s going to be such a void in our lives. It was like there was magnet drawing me to his stall every day.”

As Skip Away was led into his new home and stared through the Dutch doors in the back of his stall at his new surroundings, Sonny said, “He loves it here. Look at him looking around at everything. Well, you deserved it, buddy. You really earned it.”

Carolyn was in tears, feeling she was deserting Skip Away, and kept telling him she loved him. Even his groom, Jose Luis Sanchez, was crying, as Carolyn went over to console him. “It hurts,” he said.

Finally it was time for Sonny and Carolyn to leave. “Skip, we’ve got to leave you here,” Sonny said. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you go now. Goodbye old buddy. We’ll see you later.”

But Sonny would never see Skip Away again. All through the horse’s 5-year-old campaign he had been battling cancer and was too weak to travel.

Sonny always said it was Carolyn and Skip Away who kept him going when he found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. When he became ill with the flu early in 2000, Sonny insisted on going to the barn, because, as Carolyn said, “He just loved his horses so much.” He developed pneumonia and in his already weakened state, was unable to fight it. It was the only fight Sonny would ever lose.

After he died, his physician was in tears. He had watched Sonny travel around the country with Skip Away, despite suffering the effects of chemotherapy, and knew it was only his courage and perseverance that enabled him to do it. It was that same perseverance and dedication that drove him to the barn to be with his horses, despite the risk involved.

Following Sonny’s death, Carolyn had to adjust to life without him, but found it increasingly difficult. Her first priority was to sell all the horses, keeping just one or two. She finally was able to visit Skip Away later that year, in Oct. 2000. Being in Kentucky for the Breeders’ Cup, I met her at Hopewell Farm and witnessed the emotional reunion.

Carolyn’s main goal in life was to see Sonny and Skip Away inducted into the Hall of Fame. The first became a reality in 2003 when Sonny was voted in, and Carolyn asked me to make the presentation speech, which I was honored to do. The following year, Skip Away joined him.

“It’s a closure, Carolyn said afterward. “This is what I’ve been praying for. I’m grateful to have been blessed with such a wonderful husband and wonderful horse. I’m so proud of Sonny and so proud of Skippy. I don’t ever want that bubble to burst. Now I can go on and live with all my pride. The two most important men in my life are in the Hall of Fame.”

Help support Old Friends by purchasing Skipingo Home, the true story of Skip Away's little brother.

Have Another Cigar

Blood-Horse Staff — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 19:24:00 GMT

Because our first Cigar experience brought numerous and passionate comments, we’re going to light up another one.

To fully appreciate the fire that burned inside Cigar, we have to go back to when he was a mischievous foal at Country Life Farm in Maryland, where his dam, Solar Slew, had been sent to be bred to Corridor Key. It was there that the colt’s misadventures began. One morning, Ellen Pons, wife of farm co-owner Josh Pons, was leading out Solar Slew and the one-month-old Cigar. Ellen was almost six months pregnant, but felt it was safe enough leading out a mare and foal. While walking them to the paddock, however, the foal stepped in front of her, and before she knew it there was a tiny leg lashing back at her. The unthinkable had happened. Ellen was kicked just below her stomach. There was an initial feeling of panic, but fortunately, no damage was done.

After being sent to Allen Paulson’s Brookside Farm in Versailles, Ky., the colt became known as “The Hammer,” because of the way he’d get up on his hind legs and a strike out if anyone touched him on the forehead or around his ears. If there was trouble, he’d usually find it. One day, several deer found their way into his 15-acre paddock. Frightened by these strange intruders he took off and ran smack into the V-mesh fence, ripping it off its panels. When assistant farm manager Mac Carr showed up after receiving a frantic call from the foreman, he found the colt standing there with his chest torn open, almost to the bone. The wounds were stitched up, but the stitches rotted and didn’t hold, so they had to use hydrotherapy (water hosing) and a scarlet oil spray known as red coat that causes tissues to granulate from the inside out. The colt healed up well and matured into a professional athlete, ready to conquer the world.

                                              ***********

One of my fondest memories of Cigar was the day he arrived at Belmont Park following his historic victory in the inaugural Dubai World Cup. He hadn’t felt a cool breeze in his face in four months, having been in Florida and then Dubai. Now he was back home, walking up Secretariat Avenue, passing rows of trees and grassy paddocks, and hearing the occasional crowing of a rooster and the chirping of sparrows, as a brisk April wind ruffled his mane.

Judging from the way he pulled assistant trainer Simon Bray and groom Seth Gregory while returning to his old home, Barn 25, after 36 hours in quarantine, there was no doubt he was happy to be back in familiar surroundings.

Although he had lost a little weight and a bit of shine to his coat, it didn’t seem as if the long trip to Dubai, the hot, humid days in the desert, and his gut-wrenching victory in the Dubai World Cup took too much out of him.

Leaving the quarantine barn, Cigar continually gnawed away on his lip chain. The farther he walked the more on the muscle he became, bouncing along on his toes and trying to prop on occasion. This was the first blast of cool air to hit him in months and he was loving every minute of it.

“Man, this horse is pumped; he’s really pulling on me,” Bray said.

As they turned down one of the horse paths, a van blocked the way and Bray and Gregory had to walk Cigar in circles until the van driver could be located. He finally emerged from a nearby barn, and as he got into his van, a truck pulled alongside. The driver of the truck opened the window and shouted to the van driver: “You gotta move that van for the mighty Ceeegar, the greatest horse of all time.”

When Cigar arrived at Bill Mott’s barn, he was reluctant to go in his stall, balking several times. That was the last place he wanted to be, but finally he gave in. “There you go, buddy, back in stall 3,” Bray said to him as he removed his lip chain and gave him a friendly whack on the rear end.

Once free, Cigar let it all out, rolling several times in the straw, grunting and squealing. After getting up and pawing at the ground, he charged the webbing and thrust his head out the stall door, scattering whoever was standing nearby.

As Bray and Gregory returned to the quarantine barn to get Cigar’s pony, Snowball, who had gained fame himself while in Dubai, Cigar stood at his stall door with his head up and ears cocked, staring out the barn window and up and down the shed with that familiar white eye.

“You got your favorite window and your favorite stall back,” said day watchman Jimmy Camic. “I’m just glad he’s back safe, thank God. I’ll sit here with a two-by-four if I have to, and God forbid if any s.o.b. gives me a hard time.”

Soon, Gregory’s parents and brother arrived at the barn to take their son back to a hero’s welcome in their hometown of Garrattsville, N.Y., 16 miles from Cooperstown. Gregory had accompanied Cigar to Dubai when the horse’s regular groom, Juan Campuzano, was unable to get his visa processed in time.

“Seth, the guys at the pharmacy all said to send their congratulations,” Gregory’s mother told him. “I was in there yesterday and they were so excited. They can’t wait to see you.”

“I don’t know why I’m such a hero,” Gregory said. “He did it all.”

But Cigar had a way of making heroes out of all those close to him.

                                                ************

Tom Durkin’s voice bounced off the walls in resounding fashion. “Cigar! Cigar makes his move and he sweeps to the lead with a dramatic rush…the invincible, the incomparable, the unbeatable Cigar.”

This historic call of the 1995 Breeders’ Cup Classic wasn’t being heard at a racetrack or a simulcasting facility or any place even remotely associated with racing. On this occasion, three months after the race, pant legs trembled, shirt buttons popped, and ties stiffened at the sound of Durkin’s unforgettable call. You see, the race was being shown in the men’s department at Sears in Lawrenceville, N.J.

Following the race, Cigar’s presence seemed to be everywhere – from department stores, helping to sell team apparel, to Sports Illustrated’s “Sportsman of the Year” issue, to GQ, to Cigar Aficionado magazine, to a full page ad by Macanudo Cigar Co. in the New York Times, which read: “From One Cigar to another. Macanudo salutes the winner of the 1995 Breeders’ Cup Classic on his 12th consecutive victory.” The cost of the ad: $58,000.

The world loves perfection, and in 1995, Cigar was the epitome of perfection, as he traversed some 12 miles of racetrack real estate, traveling nearly 10,000 miles by van and plane, while visiting six racetracks in six different states. Whether on fast, wet-fast, or muddy tracks, all Cigar’s rivals saw of him were the black and gray streaks of his tail. Among those inhaling Cigar’s smoke were the winners of the 1995 Kentucky Derby, Belmont, Travers, Santa Anita Handicap, Pacific Classic, Whitney Handicap, and the Juddmonte International and Eclipse Stakes in England, as well as past winners of the Breeders’ Cup Classic, Santa Anita Handicap, Pimlico Special, Hollywood Gold Cup, and Oaklawn Handicap.

And through it all, Bill Mott was the perfect host, granting interviews to anyone who asked and handling everything with class. While the entire Cigar experience and the 16-race winning streak would have stressed out many trainers, Mott might as well have been sitting on a rocking chair back in Mobridge, South Dakota whittling away on a piece of hickory. If ever a horse and trainer fit each other it was Cigar and Mott.

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Speaking of Mott and interviews, you have to remember that he is shy by nature and often feels uncomfortable in front of a camera or in a large group. For as many years as he’s been a kingpin in New York, Mott is still pretty much a country boy from South Dakota, and on occasion will use a defense mechanism when in an awkward situation. That mechanism is to get the jump on people with a slight and harmless tinge of sarcasm to break any tensions that might exist. Such was the case when members of the British press converged on his barn one morning following Cigar’s final work before the 1995 Breeders’ Cup Classic.

The Brits congregated outside the barn as Mott went about his chores. Even when there was a lull, with Mott was standing just a few feet away, they wouldn’t dare intrude out of force of habit. The British press does not have the type of relationship American journalists have with trainers. Some British trainers are very adept at putting the fear of God in the media.

When one of Mott’s final sets returned, and training was pretty much winding down, I walked over to Mott just to chat informally. Finally, the four or five British reporters who were there sheepishly entered the barn to join in the proceedings.

That’s when Mott turned to his defense mechanism. Instead of waiting for a question or any introductions, he said in a raised voice and in his best country bumpkin imitation, “Good morning, good morning. I’m here from South Dakota. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this race, either. He had a nice little five-furlong breeze. I asked the rider to go in about 1:01 and he went in 1:00 4/5. You don’t deal with times, but we sometimes work them against the clock just to see how fast they’ve gone. What I’m telling you is that we got the type of work we were looking for and I hope it was the right thing.”

Jerry Bailey was standing nearby and both of us could see that Mott was having a good time with the Brits.

When one of them asked about the length of Cigar’s tail and why Mott didn’t crop it like they do in England, he answered, “In fly season we like them to have a good fly swatter.”

Then came a question that Mott jumped all over before it was completed: “When he ran here a fortnight ago, was that the first time he ran on….”

“Now, tell me what a fortnight is,” Mott interrupted. “Is that a week and a half?”

When Mott excused himself to go out with the final set, the Brits, thoroughly entertained, huddled around and discussed which of Mott’s lines they liked the best. It was a wonderful moment, with two worlds colliding and everyone walking away with a smile on their face.

As an aftermath of the ’95 Classic, the following morning when Mott went in his office to check his phone messages, there was the familiar gruff voice of his old boss and mentor Jack Van Berg. “Billy Mott, this is your old buddy Jack Van Berg, I just wanted to call and congratulate you. I’m very proud of you; VERY proud of you. You did a helluva job.”

Later that morning, Jerry and Suzee Bailey stopped by Cigar’s stall with their then 3-year-old son Justin. “Say hi to Cigar,” Suzee said to Justin, who seemed more interested in seeing his friend Bill and being given a pony ride around the shedrow. Suzee said that when she and Jerry returned home after the race they found their house decorated with balloons and signs

But perhaps my favorite image and comment were provided by Adrian Beaumont of the International Racing Bureau. All week, the IRB and the British press were hailing the European phenom Halling, owned by Godolphin, as a potential superstar who could dethrone the mighty Cigar. The morning after the race, there was Beaumont walking around wearing a Cigar cap.

“I haven’t been able to wear it all week with the Halling crew around,” Beaumont said. “Now that they’re gone I can finally put it on.”

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Fast forward to the following year’s Breeders’ Cup Classic. It was Cigar’s final race, and the script called for him to go out a winner. But a nose and a head separated him from the storybook ending. The sun had just begun to descend behind Woodbine’s clubhouse turn as Cigar walked off the track for the last time. Shafts of light beamed down on him from an amber sky, creating a setting that was meant for a triumphant farewell. But Cigar’s weary legs and cracked feet, that had carried him some 25,000 miles across the United Stakes and to Dubai, could not carry him those final few inches.

Back at the barn, Cigar stood facing the back of his stall. Allen and Madeliene Paulson stopped by for a final visit before heading off to dinner, but Mott remained. For several minutes, he stared almost hypnotically into Cigar’s stall. When he spoke, his voice couldn’t hide the emotions that were obviously swelling up inside him. This was no time to be dwelling on defeats or having any regrets that Cigar’s career did not end in triumph. The only images Mott was seeing as he stared into the stall were of cheering crowds and magnificent victories.

“There’s nothing I can say about Cigar that can tell you how I feel about him and the whole experience,” Mott said in a quiet monotone voice. There’s no reason that getting beat a short head would make me feel any differently about him. I’d be pretty damn greedy if I did or if I had any ill feelings about anything. When we decided to run him again this year I knew as a trainer that trying to have a repeat year was going to be tough task come Breeders’ Cup time. He just lost that little step, that little turn of foot, and that’s been the difference. Before, he could have overcome having to go five-wide. Today, he just couldn’t – he couldn’t overcome it.”

Just then, 82-year-old Georgia Ridder, owner of the victorious Alphabet Soup, came over to Mott, who congratulated her.

She replied, “Congratulations on the greatest horse of many years. It was just our luck today.”

“Well, you had a good day and I’m happy for you,” Mott said. “I hope you have many many more.”

So ended the remarkable career of Cigar. In “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” Ernest Hemingway wrote: “But did thee feel the earth move?”

Cigar’s greatness was felt as much as it was seen. Just ask anyone who was there when Cigar rocked the grandstands at Arlington Park, Suffolk Downs, and Belmont Park. Just ask anyone who was there when Cigar made the sands of Dubai shake. Just ask anyone who was there when Cigar jolted the hallowed walls of Madison Square Garden.

Although Cigar’s accomplishments and statistics speak of greatness, they are just one aspect of his legacy. He took the torch passed to him by Holy Bull and made thousands of new racing fans around the world. He made believers out of skeptics. He made poets and artists out of 7-year-olds and 70-year-olds. He made people cheer and he made people cry.

But most of all, he made the earth move.

View the Cigar Slide Show

Watch Video of Cigar at the Kentucky Horse Park

The Garden Party and Other Cigar Stories

Blood-Horse Staff — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 17:02:00 GMT

Any discussion of Holy Bull and the era of the mid-to-late ‘90s would not be complete without talking about Cigar and Skip Away. What follows are several behind-the-scenes stories about Cigar that, it is hoped, will take the readers to places they have never been.

Everyone is well aware of the remarkable accomplishments of both horses, so there is no need to rehash them. In order to keep this installment at a reasonable length, stories of Skip Away will have to wait for another day.

I was always close to these two great stars, mainly through my friendship with Skip Away’s owners Sonny and Carolyn Hine (I actually worked for Sonny at Monmouth Park for a DRF feature titled “Life on the Backstretch”), and my frequent visits in 1995 and ’96 with my then 11-year-old daughter to Bill Mott’s barn, where she posed for pictures with Cigar and Bill, who would let her ride his pony in and around the barn.

During a Blood-Horse online chat a year or two ago, someone asked me what was my most special moment in racing. Well, needless to say, there are dozens to choose from. But the one I came up with actually did not occur at a racetrack -- or a training center or a farm. It occurred at, of all places, Madison Square Garden.

Shortly after Cigar’s retirement, Madeleine Paulson announced that the horse would be honored and paraded at the National Horse Show at the Garden on Nov. 2. She had a close association with the Equestrian world and wanted to show Cigar off to her “horsey” friends and to a whole new audience.

No one knew how they were going to react, not being followers of Thoroughbred racing. But they were horse lovers first and foremost. Mott was not exactly enamored with the idea of vanning Cigar into the heart of Manhattan, and for good reason. It surely had never been done before. Most everyone else was skeptical to say the least about this wild idea.

Madison Square Garden went all out to pull this off. They invited Bill Cosby, members of the New York Rangers and Knicks, and brought in the Knicks’ cheerleaders and the Budweiser Clydesdales to lead Cigar’s van through the streets of the city to the Garden.

Cigar was given a police escort, as he traveled from Belmont Park to Manhattan in a full-sized van, with a huge color mural on both sides depicting Cigar in action. Next to the mural in large blue print with white stars was the name “Cigar.” Above it against a red background were the words “Champion and Horse of the Year,” and below it, “America’s Racehorse.”

The van met up with the Knicks cheerleaders the Clydesdales, and other participants on a quiet side street several blocks from the Garden. There, the proceedings were organized by MSG officials. Lining the street were a number of fans, several holding posters and banners. One of the posters read: “To the Great Cigar. Thanks for the Memories.” Outside the Garden were groups of school children waiting to get a glimpse of the great Cigar.

Inside the Garden, more than 16,000 people awaited Cigar’s entrance prior to the Horse Show.

By now, Seventh Avenue was closed for about 10 to 15 blocks. It was an eerie sight looking down one of New York City’s busiest avenues and seeing nothing, not a single car. When everyone was organized the Cigar parade commenced. With bagpipers, the Knicks cheerleaders, the New York City Mounted Police Corps, and the Clydesdales leading the way, the procession turned down Seventh Avenue to the quizzical looks of passersby.

At the Garden, Jerry Bailey posed for photos with the children. Finally, the van arrived, and Cigar, after peering out at the strange surroundings, was led into the bowels of America’s most famous arena by Mott and assistant trainer Tim Jones.

At 2 p.m., Bill Cosby came riding in on a horse. After dismounting, he held a microphone directly in front of ringmaster Barry Kiger’s coach horn. As a musical crescendo filled the Garden, the crowd erupted in applause in anticipation of Cigar’s entrance.

When Cigar made his appearance, with Bailey aboard, everyone rose and saluted the champion. Bailey then rose slightly in the saddle, and Cigar, as if on cue, broke into a graceful canter worthy of any show horse. The crowd went wild. With Cigar striding majestically around the arena as if part of the Horse Show, the public address announcer bellowed: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cigar!”

Bailey then brought Cigar to the middle of the arena, where he was draped in a blanket of red, white, and blue flowers and then presented with baskets of carrots and apples by members of the Rangers and Knicks, including Hall of Fame Ranger Rod Gilbert. After the speeches, Bailey dismounted and Cigar was led around the arena by Mott, as a flurry of flashbulbs popped all around the Garden.

Mott turned the horse over to Jones, who continued to lead him around. Then the lights in the arena went dark, and a single spotlight shone down on Cigar. When a solitary trumpet began playing “Auld Lang Syne” I have to admit I lost it. Soon after, the entire band joined in, adding to the emotional impact. Standing on the floor of the arena, in front of the crowd, I tried to wipe away the tears before the lights came back on. When they did, I turned around, and almost everyone in the seats was wiping their eyes. That was the single most emotional moment I’ve ever experienced in racing, perhaps in part because Cigar, those closest to him, and myself, were so far removed from the world of racing that the moment transcended the sport and seemed surreal.

Afterward, Jones said. “It was all I could do not to break down. The whole experience brought me to tears. I really believe he knew what was going on and he put on quite a show for everyone. When they played that song it was a joyous moment. But it was also very sad because I knew this was really the end.”

It was Jones who had accompanied Cigar to Dubai and supervised his early training for the inaugural Dubai World Cup. I was there, covering the event for the Daily Racing Form. The Maktoums put on a show that was unlike anything ever seen before, from the outrageous party in the desert to the raucous rock concert to the dazzling pre-race festivities. On race night, a salmon pink and golden sunset, combined with the floodlights from Nad al Sheba, illuminated the ornate mosques off in the distance, making them sparkle like Disney’s Magic Kingdom at twilight.

I watched the race at the top of the small grandstand with Ray Paulick, then the editor of the Blood-Horse. When Cigar battled back after appearing to be beaten to win by a half-length, Ray and I jumped up and down like school kids and hugged each other, and then tore through the crowd down to the winners’ circle. Needless to say, that was an unforgettable moment as well.

But it was earlier that year at the 1996 Eclipse Awards dinner at the Hotel del Coronado near San Diego that I really became close to Cigar. Not only was I assigned to cover the event, I was also flying from San Diego to Fort Lauderdale that same night on Allen Paulson’s Gulfstream 4 jet, which at the time held the speed record for traveling around the world. The following day, Cigar was scheduled to make his 6-year-old debut in the Donn Handicap.

The other passengers included Allen and Madeleine Paulson, Madeleine’s beloved Jack Russell terrier Oliver, Bill and Tina Mott, Jerry and Suzee Bailey, and my DRF colleague, the legendary Joe Hirsch. My first thought was, if the plane went down I’d be a mere footnote at the bottom of the story.

Normally, Paulson would fly the plane himself, but because of the overnight flight, scheduled to arrive in Fort Lauderdale at about 5:30 a.m. and the big day ahead, he decided to hire a crew and go as a passenger. After boarding the plane, Paulson undid his suspenders, rolled up his sleeves, and took a seat in the front row. Soon after takeoff, Madeleine, reverting to her days as a flight attendant for Pan Am, took drink orders and put out plates of cakes and pastries and platters of food.

Mott and Bailey sat up front handicapping the Saturday card. Mott turned to me and said, “Well, what do you think, Steve? This is a tough assignment, but I guess somebody’s gotta to do it.”

About 100 miles west of Tampa, the plane was scheduled to fly over Checkpoint Cigar, for which the horse was named. “Do you want to go up to the cockpit when we fly over it,” Madeleine asked me. “You can go up there anytime you want.”

After beginning to doze off, I looked up through half-closed eyes to see Madeleine covering me with a blanket, bless her heart.

When I awoke, the lights were off and everyone was asleep. Although Cigar would be a heavy favorite in the Donn, Mott was cautiously optimistic. Here he was going to Cigar’s debut and having to stare at the Horse of the Year Eclipse Award that was sitting right in front of him. “I don’t like this scenario of getting all these Eclipse Awards, and everyone is happy, and then, all of a sudden, it’s D-Day again in less than 24 hours,” he said. “We’re setting ourselves up for a bunch of long faces.”

At 4:20 a.m., Paulson began to stir. He walked to the back of the plane and told me were getting close to Checkpoint Cigar. About 55 miles from Sarasota I made my way to the cockpit, having to gingerly step over Oliver. The view of the Florida coastline was magnificent, as if we were in a simulator. Although the lights got closer it was as if we weren’t moving. “Isn’t that beautiful?” the pilot asked. “It’s like a big video screen. We’re flying 80% the speed of sound, but this plane flies faster than this.”

We quickly passed over the darkness of the Everglades and descended on the lights of Eastern Florida. The landing was smooth as silk, and after the plane came to a halt, Paulson got up, put his suspenders back on, rolled down his sleeves, and said to Mott, “Ready to go to work, Bill?”

Several yards from the plane, Paulson’s limo awaited to take us all to our respective hotels. As I stepped down from the plane, Paulson reminded me, “Well, you just flew in the fastest plane in the world.”

It was only appropriate, because later that day I’d be watching the fastest horse in the world.

These have been three of my most memorable and unusual experiences in racing, and they all involved Cigar. This horse had style, class, and charisma, and was one of the most intelligent horses I’ve ever been around. It’s been fun looking back at those days, and I hope everyone got a chance to see a side of the sport they’d never seen before.

View the Cigar Slide Show

Watch Video of Cigar at the Kentucky Horse Park