This Side Up | Horse Racing Free Tips

This Side Up: One Last Apple from the Cox Orchard

How aptly we talk of our walk of life as the Turf. Because raising a horse is just like raising a lawn. Take a microscope out there, if you like, but no human being has actually seen grass grow. Yet one morning toward the end of winter, the birdsong sounds different and you realize you left your coat on the peg without thinking about it. And you look at that lawn and, no argument, it's time to take the mower out of its stable.

That moment remains a long way off, for many, but Saturday all can share a cheering sense that the vital forces of Nature are perceptibly astir in the sophomore class of 2021. Because both coasts, in their southernmost exposure, provide comfortingly familiar staging posts on a journey that we resume in growing hope, through the striving of science, that our world may be slowly settling back on its axis by the first Saturday in May.

Gosh, it certainly seems an age since Tiz the Law (Constitution) and Thousand Words (Pioneerof the Nile) respectively won the GIII Holy Bull S. and GIII Robert B. Lewis S. The unprecedented detours on the Triple Crown trail, in the meantime, have taught us afresh how the cyclical challenges we set the adolescent Thoroughbred, long enshrined in the calendar, assist horsemen from one generation to the next in consistent measurement of the breed.

It's not just individual racehorses that come under examination, after all. Each resembles the blades of grass that together make up the lawn. For many of us, the interest lies in the way their roots are entwined–and what that can teach us for future cultivation.

All families evolve through the same, patient rhythms; through horsemen responding to the prompts of Nature. Sometimes these harmonies yield lush, seamless swathes; but there are also occasions when some sparse or choked tangle of briar will nourish a blossom as sudden and brilliant as it appears unexpected. In both cases, the underlying, seasonal processes are just the same.

Greatest Honour this week at Gulfstream | Ryan Thompson

Take two horses whose contrasting antecedents bring them similar opportunity in these races. The Courtlandt Farms homebred Greatest Honour (Tapit), who represents the Shug McGaughey barn at Gulfstream, could be named a feasible Classic type when still in the womb. Two of his first four dams are Broodmares of the Year, and the family has duly been seeded by such venerable distaff influences as Street Cry (Ire), Deputy Minister and Blushing Groom (Fr). Hot Rod Charlie (Oxbow), on the other hand, made $17,000 as a short yearling. In the two years since, however, it has become feasible to recognize a born aristocrat in the horse reappearing at Santa Anita.

He owes that transformation, however, to exactly the same diligence, patience and expertise that first created the line tracing from Best in Show now to Greatest Honour. In fact, Hot Rod Charlie is the final bequest of a man who–with the help of those storied farms, Claiborne and Hermitage–was perhaps the most accomplished small breeder of his generation.

Edward A. Cox, Jr. operated what we nowadays call a boutique program. Yet he was co-breeder of Woodman (Mr Prospector); partner in Swale (Seattle Slew); and breeder of Marquetry (Conquistador Cielo) and star European miler Shaadi (Danzig). His Turf career comprised two cycles, with a hiatus between 1998 and 2006. Soon after his comeback he sent Bill Landes, the long-serving Hermitage manager, over to the January Sale to give $250,000 for Glacken's Girl (Smoke Glacken), who had won her only two starts as a juvenile. Cox sent her to Indian Charlie; and the resulting filly, Indian Miss, to veteran Chicago trainer James DeVito. Indian Miss showed ability but also had to be retired after only two starts, because of a chip in her knee. Cox would have culled her for $10,000, but nobody had more than $5,000 so he experimented with matings that wouldn't necessarily have occurred to everybody: Eskenderaya, for instance, in her second year; Oxbow in her fifth.

Her son by Eskendereya made just $20,000 as a yearling. Then, knowing himself doomed by illness, Cox staged his second dispersal in 2018. It was deeply poignant for everyone involved, but he was the kind of gentleman who wanted to leave everything shipshape for his family. At Keeneland that November, 20 head of horse made $3.7 million–including $240,000 from WinStar for Indian Miss (with an Into Mischief cover).

Mitole clinched his championship in the 2019 Breeders' Cup Sprint | Horsephotos

What a great buy that turned out to be. For the colt by Eskendereya was none other than Mitole, who had disappeared after winning a couple of stakes the previous year. His subsequent return and championship campaign saw Indian Miss return to the same sale, this time round, to be cashed in to OXO Equine for $1.9 million.

Her value had been enhanced, moreover, just a couple of days previously by a revelatory performance from her Oxbow 2-year-old. This had been the very last horse sold by Cox. As a weanling, he had been so immature that Landes urged his patron to give him extra time. But time, finite for us all, soon became a scant resource. Around Christmas, though Cox was still sounding pretty good, he called and said: “Landes, get him sold.”

Landes felt the horse was just beginning to turn round when they took him over to Fasig that February, but it took the astute eye of Bob Feld to pick him out of Jim Herbener's consignment. And by the time the rangy, maturing colt was pinhooked through Small Batch Sales in the same ring that October, he was a half-brother to a champion.

In a sane world, Oxbow should have appealed as the icing on the cake: the perfect foil for two dams confined to an aggregate four starts. He's by Awesome Again out of a sister to Tiznow, and showed due toughness and class when sixth, first and second in his Triple Crown series. But that stuff is obviously far too worthy for the commercial guys, and Dennis O'Neill was able to get the colt for $110,000.

A tolerable yield, no doubt, through eight months–but Feld deserved better yet for his acuity. Because he not only found a half-brother to an imminent champion for just $17,000; he also sold on a potential Derby horse.

For this, of course, is Hot Rod Charlie. He took four attempts to break his maiden, but had just been learning the game on turf and/or in sprints. Fitted with blinkers, he then stepped up for the GI Breeders' Cup Juvenile and, though dismissed at 94-1, made his challenge a good deal more smoothly than Essential Quality (Tapit) and was only run down late by the eventual champion.

Medina Spirit (red cap) was second to 'TDN Rising Star' Life Is Good in the Sham | Benoit

True, one of his principal opponents in this race had to squint upwards to see even Hot Rod Charlie on their first hammer prices. Medina Spirit (Protonico) made just $1,000 as a short yearling; nor did he seem much more eligible for the Baffert barn, when returned to OBS as a 2-year-old and realizing $35,000 for pinhooker Christy Whitman. Yet his first two starts have proved that even the big-money horses must need this trainer more than he needs big-money horses.

By the same token, his breeder Gail Rice has already shown that you don't need big-money mares or matings to produce a good one, having bred 2020 GI Ashland S. winner Speech (Mr Speaker) out of a $7,500 dam. At the other end of the scale, however, this field also contains 'TDN Rising Star' Roman Centurian (Empire Maker), whose family is full of such familiar Phipps names as second dam Finder's Fee (Storm Cat). He duly cost $550,000 as a yearling and, much like Greatest Honour on the opposite shore, seems equivalent to an ancient and beautifully manicured arboretum, relative to some of these exotic new blooms.

But all these families, to thrive, need to have been tended with the same devotion and flair. And actually Medina Spirit has some pretty noble roots: his third dam is a half-sister to High Yield (Storm Cat) out of a half-sister to Paul Mellon's charming Forest Flower (Green Forest), a 2-year-old champion filly in Britain out of a Classic-placed Nijinsky mare.

As it happens, High Yield made his first sophomore start in this same race, then still known as the Santa Catalina S., finishing second. How surprised his co-owner would have been, to discover that the prize would someday bear his own name. But none of these things happen overnight. Lewis helped to make Baffert; and maybe having High Yield on the page is helping Baffert make Medina Spirit.

Hot Rod Charlie (inside), as a 2-year-old working with older horse and MGSW Wildman Jack | Breeders' Cup/Eclipse Sportswire

As ever, we seek regeneration both among the horses themselves and also in their owners and breeders. Hot Rod Charlie's enthusiastic ownership group, for instance, includes five recent graduates of the Brown University football team. They will be encouraged that “Chuck” still looked green on hitting the front at the Breeders' Cup, even with all that grounding. On the other hand, it may prove that he will need plenty of help from Oxbow to adapt his speedy family to Classic racing.

Whatever happens, let's celebrate him first and foremost as a last bequest. Landes already feels blessed that Mitole carved so apt a memorial to Cox, but for Hot Rod Charlie to stay on the Derby trail would represent a wonderful codicil. Testament, too, to his own skill–something that warrants stressing, given how it is exceeded only by his modesty and humor.

Familiar attributes, those, in many who have contributed most to the communal, evolving lore of horsemanship; attributes, that is, that accrue naturally when you're daily dealing with a charge as captivating, and exasperating, as the Thoroughbred. Landes always knew that this backward, goofy weanling was going to end up turning himself round. On his late patron's behalf, then, let's borrow the formula by which he would very occasionally, in his understated way, indicate satisfaction: “Landes, you raised a good horse.”

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This Side Up: Honor Abides in Pegasus of Clipped Wings

It's the obvious question in South Florida this week. Back in January 2017, everything was henceforth going to be different. The language was brash, it was immoderate, it certainly wasn't to the taste of traditionalists. But like it or not, it looked a game-changer. Yet here we all are, four years on, asking whether the whole project has failed; or whether, despite its apparent humiliation, it retains enough momentum never to permit a return to the old ways?

No, we're not talking about the latest senior citizen to retire to Palm Beach. True, Donald Trump has sufficient interest in the Turf to have introduced Secretariat to his very first public utterances when embarking, at just the same time, on a revolution of his own. “If Secretariat had come in second,” Trump remarked in his victory speech, “he would not have that big, beautiful bronze bust at the track at Belmont.” Let's leave unexplored the curious choice of the word “bust”. It was simply gratifying to see that Secretariat remained sufficiently in the cultural mainstream to convey Trump's idea of “superstardom.”

As it happens, he had already invoked Big Red on the campaign trail, in the course of a characteristic digression on his own pedigree. “They used to say Secretariat doesn't produce great horses,” he observed. “Actually Secretariat wasn't one of the best, if you want to know the truth.” The incensed reception of this remark was instructive of the automatic virulence of so much political discourse today. In context, he can only have been referencing Secretariat's failure to establish a sire line–presumably an Alabama rally had limited interest in his record as a broodmare sire–yet indignant opponents decided that Trump had pronounced him overrated as a racehorse. Which only went to show, depending on your vantage, either that his enemies would disparage him whatever he said; or what happens if you make a habit of mendacity and disrespect.

Anyway, the point is that Trump returns to civilian life in the same week that a parallel cycle appears to face a Florida crossroads of its own. Because it would be churlish to pretend that the GI Pegasus World Cup has achieved the radical transformation it promised four years ago. And the question now, even as a more traditional presidential style is restored, is whether the departure of Donald should coincide with the return of the Donn?

Arrogate won the inaugural Pegasus in 2017 | Horsephotos

Its own prize fund slashed, and squeezed by one of nearly grotesque size in Riyadh, the Pegasus certainly appears to be in a precarious place. The inaugural running in 2017 offered a $12 million purse, subscribed at $1 million per starting gate, and duly lured Arrogate (Unbridled's Song) and California Chrome (Lucky Pulpit) to a rematch after their Breeders' Cup showdown. In 2018, the prize fund augmented to $16 million, the winners of 43 graded stakes were headed by Gun Runner (Candy Ride {Arg}), Stellar Wind (Curlin) and West Coast (Flatter). But the following year, with entry halved to $500,000 and the prize fund down to $7 million, the field began to lose depth even behind the stellar City of Light (Quality Road) and Accelerate (Lookin At Lucky), with an aggregate 26 graded stakes.

Last year, entry suddenly became free for invitees but the purse duly shrank to $3 million. And, on the day, only Seeking the Soul (Perfect Soul) and Higher Power (Medaglia d'Oro) could bring a solitary Grade I apiece. In fairness, the race lost its headline act only through a late injury to Omaha Beach (War Front). But Maximum Security (New Year's Day) was diverted to plunder the riches of the sands, just like Charlatan (Speightstown) this time round. If that still leaves three Grade I winners on Saturday, in Knicks Go (Paynter), Code of Honor (Noble Mission {GB}) and Math Wizard (Algorithms), this is not the race that had caused valuable stallion prospects to relay their retirement. The companion race on grass, meanwhile, is now down to $1 million from $7 million.

Yes, the hosts have retained a valid place for the Pegasus in our elite program. For a start, the purse still ranks very highly–not least now that it's a bet-to-nothing. More important, perhaps, is the one entry requirement that was introduced with the changed format last year. After all the industry's talk about raceday medication, participants in the Pegasus would be obliged to walk the walk.

So the race is still trying to light a way ahead. But its original path has implicitly been abandoned. It has evidently been perceived that even the wealthiest would become reluctant to buy a gate at so exorbitant a cost, at least for a horse only with an outside chance–and especially now that there was a magic carpet to ride into the desert. Any hopes of a media rights frenzy had faded and it began to feel as though stakes would be paid simply to make the richest horses richer.

Admittedly a similar model appears to have been more sustainably adapted by the Everest in Australia. Maybe that's partly because sprint races tend to be more of a crapshoot; but perhaps it's principally because there isn't a $20-million alternative for the same pool of horses four weeks later.

Mucho Gusto captured last year's edition of the Pegasus | Zoe Metz

I must admit I have never been comfortable with any of these “super races”. Almost invariably they set out to challenge and dilute a calendar that has evolved, generation by generation, by testing what works best for a) the horse population and b) the racefans. They are casinos opened in the middle of nowhere. Nobody drove that way before but now, seeing those neon lights flashing gaudily in the empty night, people fill up the tank and make a special journey.

But Thoroughbreds don't refuel like motor cars. Putting on extra mileage to go flat out in January, February and March, whether in Florida or halfway round the world, is bound to cause wear and tear–and will duly cost depth and quality in historic prizes through the year.

Nor did fans really gain much even when the Pegasus was able to seduce newly minted champions into one more lap of honor, literally hours before disappearing to the rural Bluegrass. I'm sure many fans would have preferred investment in cherished old races that have lost some of their luster in recent years, like the Big Cap at Santa Anita–ironically, of course, one of the first “super races” when inaugurated as “the Hundred-Grander”–or the Gold Cup since its transfer there from Hollywood Park.

As it is, fans might look at this Pegasus field and think how nice it would be to have the Donn back. That race served its purpose beautifully over the years, advertising the hardiness and class required of any future stallion setting out on so arduous a domestic campaign. True, the gelded Forego, the infertile Cigar and the tragic Saint Liam could not recycle those assets; but those that did included Deputy Minister, Medaglia d'Oro, Quality Road and now Constitution, who won the penultimate running.

The Donn honored the family who presided over Gulfstream in its pomp, and now we must all wait and see quite what the Stronach legacy will ultimately prove to be. We may not do so very complacently, but who knows? Perhaps posterity will acknowledge most gratefully the welfare innovations introduced to the Pegasus.

Code of Honor schooling ahead of the Pegasus this week | Coglianese

In the meantime, while we're taking the longer view, I'd certainly be gratified to see Code of Honor make everyone ask themselves afresh how they allowed his sire to slip through their grasp. A full brother to Frankel (GB) (Galileo {Ire}), exported to Japan! Both Noble Mission and Frankel carried their speed in a manner that was always going to adapt to dirt, given the chance, and sure enough Code of Honor emerged from his sire's first crop to claim second in the Derby.

Okay, he should have remained third according to the 45th President, who denounced the disqualification of Maximum Security as political correctness. But Code of Honor–typically of the chlorophyll allergy that has doomed his sire, a $70,000 RNA at Keeneland September–went on to win historic dirt prizes in the Travers and Jockey Club Gold Cup. Trying to turn him into a pure miler last year didn't really work, but he's the one horse in this field that has unfailingly kept the best of company throughout his career. He'd be an old-school winner that might help–not least by thriving on a raceday regime of hay, oats and water–to restore the bearings of a 21st Century pioneer that otherwise seems to be losing its way.

Because it's time we sought true grandeur, not grandiosity. Biggest doesn't always mean best, nor even does richest. And no President, any time soon, will be invoking that gargantuan statue of a mythical creature, looming over the Gulfstream parking lot, ahead of the modest one depicting a real Pegasus in the Belmont paddock.

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This Side Up: Manners Maketh Mandaloun

How ironic, that a man with a nearly anguished instinct for self-effacement should have left so indelible an impression on our walk of life–one he strolled so quietly that he insisted on registering his silks, with The Jockey Club in Britain, simply in the name of Mr. K. Abdullah. How many others who covet the Turf’s great prizes, in contrast, elbow their way through the crowd in preening advertisement of their wealth and acuity?

If we learn much about such people from their presumption of some deeper dignity, from a status they cannot sustain even by a royal title, so we can surmise something of those human qualities–generally so inscrutable–that were extinguished with the loss of Prince Khalid this week. For he plainly considered “Mr.” an ample prompt to our general obligation of mutual civility; above all, perhaps, among those who constantly witness the egalitarianism that persists between Thoroughbreds themselves. Whatever advantages we seek in pedigree–the foundation, after all, of his entire Juddmonte empire–even the Prince will have seen the most regal foals reduced to the claiming ranks, or denied the throne by blue-collar upstarts.

Admittedly the courteous lineaments of his public appearances so confined his inner nature that we should perhaps hesitate before discovering some third dimension barely exposed even to those in our community who spent years in his service. For their tributes have been in much the same register as those made from a more superficial vantage. Even from the outside, any of us might ascribe to him attributes of ‘the perfect gentleman’. First and foremost, precisely that freedom from self-importance; but also his distaste for the kind of hiring and firing that we see in the Turf’s coarser patrons.

So perhaps we actually knew him better than we realized. Certainly his striking fidelities suggest an unshakable respect for those qualities that abide within those who might not appear, to more fickle judgements, in a deserving state of grace. He was just about the last man standing when Sir Henry Cecil paid with the contempt of fashion for a human brittleness in the face of adversity. And while Bobby Frankel never lost professional esteem in the same way, you suspect that few who share the Prince’s antecedents would have become quite so devoted to a cantankerous Jewish gambler from Brooklyn.

The Prince with Sir Henry Cecil in 2011 | Racing Post

The sheer breadth of humanity encompassed by those two trainers, their wildly divergent personalities united by a slender strand of genius, attested to a tolerance and empathy in the Prince that would serve us all well, not least in these rancorous times. A tragic destiny, of course, reserved for Frankel and Cecil a cruel extra bond, in their premature loss to cancer. But a happier clause in the unforgiving terms of fate was the arrival of a champion, named in memory of one, to redeem the darkest hour of the other.

Arguably the Prince surrendered something even of Juddmonte’s defining achievement to the needs of his suffering trainer. Even with his own time probably short, he delayed Frankel’s retirement as the apogee of his breeding program so that Cecil would retain a spur to his fortitude every time he went out onto the gallops. And the Prince also indulged the rather parochial priorities that somewhat hampered Cecil even in his pomp, never mind at a time when personal travel had become impractical.

The Prince must surely have asked himself, as did some of us mere bystanders, what capacities remained unexplored in Frankel as Cecil kept him, almost to the end, in the same domestic pool of outclassed milers. Constantly compared with specters of the past, Frankel was never given the chance to measure himself even against his contemporaries overseas. The Prince had a mansion just beside the Bois de Boulogne, and first became enchanted by the Turf when taken by friends to Longchamp in 1956. And he adored the Breeders’ Cup. Hopefully his enjoyment of Frankel’s wonderful start at stud was not too poignantly tempered by the reflection that the speed-carrying capacity he imparts to his stock really should have been examined either in the Arc or at the Breeders’ Cup.

A trifling quibble, by now, in a legacy that has long been secure–and will long continue to evolve. Indeed, just as Juddmonte once gave a cherished friend a critical transfusion of vitality, perhaps those grieving the Prince now will themselves find some timely succour from its bloodlines.

Mandaloun | Coady

Because none of us, surely, will be able to resist a frisson that some benign force may assist the Juddmonte colt who finds himself, on this of all weekends, dipping a toe into the Triple Crown water in the GIII Lecomte S.

The Kentucky Derby was one of the few great ambitions to elude the Prince, albeit he managed two seconds (Aptitude and Empire Maker) from only five starters. Mandaloun is by the same extraordinary sire that has just settled any doubt as to his competence to stretch his trademark speed, with the improvement in his mares, to the demands of the Derby.

The upgrading of Into Mischief‘s books was aptly measured when the Prince favored him with a visit from Mandaloun’s dam, Empire Maker’s daughter Brooch, a Group 2 and 3 winner in Ireland. Judicious introduction of external blood has been key to the constant invigoration of the Prince’s families. In this case, however, the first three dams are all by homebred stallions: Empire Maker, Dansili (GB) and Distant View. But the fourth dam is Queen of Song (His Majesty), a sister to Cormorant added to the expanding Juddmonte band for $700,000 at the 1989 Keeneland November Sale.

Brad Cox also saddles an exciting sophomore filly for Juddmonte in the Silverbulletday S. Already No. 2 in colleague Bill Finley’s TDN Oaks Top 10, Sun Path is by another commercial stallion in Munnings. In her case, however, her first three dams are all by other outside sires: Tapit, Nureyev and Nijinsky. The third is champion Chris Evert’s daughter Nijinsky Star, acquired (from the Carl Rosen dispersal) in the same ring as Queen of Song, and for the same price, two years previously.

Whereas Queen Of Song had won 14 of 58 starts for Parrish Hill Farm, Nijinsky Star appeared a very different proposition: in fact, she had a tube exiting a lung, draining fluid from a bout of pleurisy in her younger days. But that did not put off the Prince and his team, and his investment paid off with Nijinsky Star’s emergence as foundation mare. Two daughters by Nureyev did especially well: Viviana produced multiple Grade I winners Sightseek (Distant View) and Tates Creek (Rahy), while Willstar gave us not only Group 1 winner Etoile Montante (Miswaki) but Touch the Star, who has already produced Bonny South by Tapit to win the GII Fair Grounds Oaks last year; and now Sun Path.

Sun Path | Hodges Photography

So both these Classic prospects exemplify the Prince’s patient refinement of families, an artistry and precision spanning three decades. Though their breeder actually started out by breaking the European record for a yearling almost immediately–giving 264,000gns for a Grundy colt at the 1978 Houghton Sale, ultimately to little avail–he showed great discrimination in his choice of talent, both human and equine, once deciding to build up his own program. It might seem easy for a member of the Saudi royal family to buy the right quality, but it’s worth recording that wealthy rivals spent even more on 37 other mares at the sale where the Prince bought Nijinsky Star. Needless to say, few proved anything like as good an investment.

In recent times the Prince had become frail, rather than just elegantly slender, and was rarely seen even as his last champion Enable (GB) (Nathaniel {Ire}) prolonged her exuberant reign. But he had already long guaranteed a vibrant legacy to generations of horsemen to come.

For whenever they pore over pedigrees–renewing the perennial puzzle of what works and why–they will find themselves clinging gratefully to the footholds chiselled by this dignified, recessive figure. He will loom over the 21st Century breed much as Federico Tesio or the 17th Earl of Derby did before, paradoxically dragged by his own, understated passion into the applause of posterity from the anonymity he cherished.

Frankel | Juddmonte photo

Tesio’s exotic personality and beliefs were vividly chronicled, both by his own pen and others; while Derby’s public career in wartime gave him much wider profile. But this temperate Prince we respected, as much as anything, for the respect he exuded: whether in his personal bearing, or in the things he did (or, more importantly, the things he didn’t do) with the horses and horsemen in his service. In the old axiom, ‘manners maketh man’.

Sometimes a man becomes most truly distinguished by camouflage. I love to think of the young Prince, not yet 20, at Longchamp in 1956. People must have looked straight through him then, immaculately dapper though he surely must have been, unwitting of the transformational ambitions stirring in this captivated young Arab. That must have suited him just fine. But however little we really knew ‘the Prince’, and whatever complicated shades of humanity remained ever beyond our reach, we bid farewell to ‘Mr. Abdullah’ with much respect. And we will all duly celebrate success for Mandaloun, or Sun Path, simply as an immediate assurance that his bequest to the breed, whatever happens to Juddmonte now, will outlive us all.

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This Side Up: A Channel of American Merit

It doesn’t make me mad anymore. Maybe it’s just the idealism of youth ebbing away. But I have also begun to understand the virtue of markets. If people want to breed to unproven stallions, that’s their prerogative. I can always buy a mare, send her to a sire of runners, and see y’all in the starting gate. If I’m right, the odds are in my favor; I get value from the market. And if I’m wrong, well, no need to be angry.

Even in setting all that aside, however, it’s been hard to resist another source of annual dismay in compiling our midwinter survey of covering options in Kentucky. And that’s the perennial gap between words and deeds when it comes to turf horses.

Everyone talks a good game these days about the expanding grass program in the U.S. They note the evolving role of synthetics, too, stressing the importance these surfaces may have in preserving our sport from the misapprehensions of welfare campaigners.

And then they go to a horse sale, and do their utmost to make it impossible to stand a turf stallion in Kentucky.

Now don’t get me wrong. After all, I’m constantly berating European breeders for insularity regarding the kind of American dirt prowess that invigorated their gene pool when the founders of Coolmore tapped into Northern Dancer. I’m certain that the best way to break the same empire’s Epsom hegemony, now, would be to repeat the trick and use American stallions that carried dirt speed through Classic distances.

But the other side of the coin is that American breeders also need more adventure. Regeneration should be reciprocal. We can’t get enough Uncle Mo? Well, thank goodness Spendthrift shipped over Caro (Fr). Stroll through the Claiborne cemetery, equally, and ask yourself whether the iconic farm would have left the same imprint on the breed without importing Nasrullah (Caro’s great-grandsire), Blenheim II, Sir Gallahad III and company.

English Channel winning the 2007 Breeders’ Cup Turf | Sarah Andrew

Yet it seems nearly impossible to get sustainable commercial respect for the few stallions making the same journey today; nor for the indigenous turf stallion who offers similar acceleration, stamina and durability.

Today, then, I would just like to celebrate a significant landmark in the career of English Channel.

Whatever else he may be, Calumet’s 19-year-old son of Smart Strike is not a commercial stallion. Only 14 of his yearlings even bothered with the sales ring in 2020, of which a dozen sold for an average of $27,671. This placed him at No. 92 in the national table, and represented zero yield on a covering fee–$27,500 for 2021–that presumably expresses his value to end users instead.

Because these have long known him as a quiet achiever. If Ken Ramsey has been rightly incensed by a lack of commercial recognition for Kitten’s Joy, whose stature as a turf sire has been measured by two general sires’ championships, then chew on this: English Channel matches that Titan of their kind, stride for stride, in all indices. Working from half as many foals (757 across 10 crops, compared with 1,573 named foals across 12 for Kitten’s Joy), English Channel has earned almost precisely the same per starter ($72,083 plays $72,773); and his percentages stack up almost eerily whether in black-type winners (7.1% for English Channel against 6.5%); black-type horses (11.5% against 11.7%); graded stakes winners (3.7% against 3.1%); graded stakes performers (6.3% against 6.1%); Grade I winners (1.2% against 0.9%); and Grade I horses (tied at 2.1%).

This comparison, to be clear, is intended only to exalt English Channel–and not to belittle Kitten’s Joy, whose neglect by most elite European breeders I have repeatedly rebuked in these columns. But it is only right, given this parity of performance, to record that English Channel has just been crowned champion turf stallion by North American earnings (also by North American/European purses; ditto Northern Hemisphere) for the first time.

Until the posthumous championship of Giant’s Causeway last year, courtesy of Bricks and Mortar, this title had been a six-year lock for Kitten’s Joy. So let’s give English Channel his day in the sun, and congratulate Calumet for their success–in this instance, at least!–in a conspicuous determination to stand up for their principles against the tide.

Calumet Farm | Sarah Andrew

Under its present ownership this historic farm has assembled a stallion roster that verges, in commercial terms, on eccentricity. But it is unmistakably a repository for precisely those genetic assets most under threat in the American breed, and future generations may yet look back and decide that Calumet was ahead of its time. The twin foundations of the roster appear to be proper, deeply-rooted Classic pedigrees and/or robust constitution.

I asked Eddie Kane, its general manager, whether the soundness that is one of English Channel’s calling cards makes him a suitable flagship for what Calumet is trying to do. “The team at Calumet hopes the industry’s new focus against illegal medications and practices will further shift breeders from a short-term mentality towards a more economically sustainable focus on soundness and longevity,” he replied. “English Channel’s trademarks are consistency, durability and longevity. In terms of racing value, he is constantly on or near the top.”

The obvious problem is that precisely those assets many of us consider most critical to the breed have somehow become the least commercial. How can the industry achieve a higher commercial premium for the kind of durability and stamina offered by English Channel?

“We wish we knew the answer to this one,” says Kane. “It seems many are content with the process of pushing 2- and early 3-year-olds, retiring them to stud, pumping up their first couple crops in the sales ring and then moving on. We attempt to support our stallions in the shed and stick with them. We think this benefits our breeders in the long run.”

Kane recognizes that other stud farms do this, too. But he finds it no easier to solve similar challenges about the undervaluing of grass horses. How do we get people to stop just talking the talk, and actually go to the sale ring and make it commercially viable breeding to turf stallions?

English Channel’s Travers winner V. E. Day | Lauren King

“Another very tough question,” he admits. “It is largely impacted by purses. NYRA’s 3-year-old program was a positive move in that direction. The prestige in European racing lies with turf. Here it is dirt. Many prioritize the Derby, the Triple Crown, etc. If English Channel, with six Grade I wins and the race record of his offspring, was all dirt, he would command three to four times the stud fee. You can’t say it’s right or wrong: it is just the reality of our market, the economics and the perception of prestige associated with certain races and titles.”

Yet while everyone can see major and ongoing improvement in earning potential for turf horses in North America, that is simply not being reflected in the sales ring. Moreover, those big players who are targeting such opportunities are instead doing their shopping in Europe. And doing so successfully, for now. But they must be wary of importing a ticking time bomb from the European gene pool, which is increasingly divided between a Classic bloodline that’s approaching saturation and upgraded cheap speed that will never sustain a Classic agenda.

Maybe they’ve been spending too much time with the English agent who so exasperated me when blithely announcing that he never goes to Keeneland because American breeders are obsessed with speed. If that gentleman were remotely competent to spend the funds of his wealthy patrons, he would understand that–for all the deficiencies of the American market–two-turn stallions here actually achieve far more “commercial” traction than do those of Classic profile in his domestic one. (I know, I know: getting mad again…)

The key, as I say, is that reciprocal transfusion. And if European breeders are nowadays too myopic to risk dirt blood, perhaps they should at least be a little more receptive to American turf stallions. They will certainly get value. David Redvers needed just $160,000 to buy a European champion by Kitten’s Joy, Roaring Lion, at Keeneland September in 2016. Yet European breeders remained so obtuse that he was able to return to the same sale two years later and find Classic winner Kameko, by the same sire, for $90,000.

It was only in 2018 that Kitten’s Joy was given a fresh start at Hill ‘n’ Dale, Ramsey having threatened to stand him in Europe if he didn’t get more respect. And I reckon all concerned with the horse would cheerfully trade the turf crown lost to English Channel for the striking improvement in the averages achieved by his first yearlings bred under a new regime. In a market meanwhile buffeted by the pandemic, Kitten’s Joy nonetheless advanced his 2020 yearling average to $139,505 from $86,367, elevating him from No. 33 to No. 17 in the table. (Remember these were also conceived at a more sporting fee, Hill ‘n’ Dale having immediately cut him to $60,000 from $100,000.)

That feels like a very wholesome development. The bigger picture, however, remains depressing. Flintshire (GB) (Dansili {GB}), for instance, has depended largely on support by his partnership to get started at the same farm. I am convinced that his first books will produce runners, but it looks like he won’t be “commercial” any time soon.

As I said at the outset, however, neglect spells opportunity. And perhaps there might yet be Europeans far-sighted enough to try English Channel. As it happens, that was one of the aspirations mentioned by Kane, when asked how the horse could still round off his resume.

“Well, there are a few things actually,” he says. “As a Breeders’ Cup Turf winner, one or more of his offspring repeating that accomplishment would be an important achievement. Also we feel a greater presence in European racing would be fruitful. And finally, we believe he is underrepresented on the dirt, as would be indicated by his sire Smart Strike, his [paternal] half-brother Curlin and offspring such as Travers winner V.E. Day, as well as the multiple graded stakes winner Optimizer who was the only 3-year-old of his crop to run in all three legs of the Triple Crown.”

Heart to Heart winning Keeneland’s Maker’s 46 Mile, one of two GI wins for the son of English Channel in 2018 | Coady

That’s another drum I’m always beating: the unsuspected versatility of horses whose reputation as specialists, because never stretched, becomes self-fulfilling. Take English Channel’s son Heart to Heart, at Crestwood: don’t tell me that 10 wire-to-wire stakes wins wouldn’t parlay into dirt speed. As it is, he’s a not a bad poster boy for his sire, with graded stakes wins five seasons running and 18 triple-digit Beyers. And his first two dams are by sons of Deputy Minister and, oh yes, Caro.

Few European breeders will even have heard of him. Nor would they necessarily think English Channel worth the journey if popping over the road from Blue Grass Airport to inspect him. But there’s no pleasing some people: they will then complain that dirt stallions are all too big and square.

“Biggest is not necessarily best, if so we would grade them by weight and height,” Kane remarks. “We feel he has the ideal size with balance and athleticism. He crosses well with almost any mare.”

Kane notes that English Channel has a particularly good record with daughters of Kitten’s Joy, with 14 winners from 16 starters including four at graded stakes level. That’s fun to see, because they aren’t just business rivals. They are also companions in arms; a mutual channel for the good stuff.

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