Musings of an Aging Nobody

Frank Hayes was born in Ireland. Though there seems to be some debate over when Frank was born, some say 1888 and some say 1901, one thing was for sure, Frank always wanted to be a jockey.

But Frank was built more like me when I was in my 20’s and 30’s at 140 pounds.  Not that 140 pounds was heavy, but it was if you wanted to be jockey.

Frank moved to New York City and when he found he couldn’t be a jockey, he decided to be a horse trainer and groom instead, at least he was in the game.  It was the 1920’s and thoroughbred horse racing was beginning its golden era in this country.

When I worked on the ambulance at Monmouth Park Racetrack in the 1970’s, for a few days later in the meet, the track would feature a few steeplechase races on the card each summer.  For us on the ambulance crew it was the busier days of the season because jumpers more frequently lost their riders.

Belmont Park, located on New York’s Long Island in the early 1920’s featured a similar steeplechase program.

One day Frank the trainer found himself an owner with a horse entered into one of Belmont’s steeplechase races who didn’t have a jockey to ride her.

The horse’s name was Sweet Kiss.

Sweet Kiss was a seven-year-old mare, an unraced maiden, and Frank saw an opportunity.  If he could get down to jockey weight of 130 pounds, he could ride Sweet Kiss and fulfill his dream to finally be a jockey.

So, Frank did the impossible and in a matter of 24 hours managed to lose twelve pounds to qualify.

Frank’s dream was finally going to come true.

He was about to check “Jockey” off his bucket list.

 

I have been having a bit of a nostalgic horse racing week, kind of reliving A Sentimental Racetrack Journey once again.  With November’s Breeder’s Cup in the books, the sport of horse racing winds down a bit as it awaits January’s  Eclipse Awards, which are kind of like the Oscars for horse racing, the naming of the Horse of the Year for 2024, and the new year when all two year olds turn three and thus the beginning of the 2025 three year old season which includes the Triple Crown races.

My sentimental journey this week was once again triggered by my perennial Horse of the Year…

Sir Sidney.

Sid.

I reached out to Marilyne this week to check on Sid:

He’s doing very well. I just got a new job that is very time consuming so I leased him out to a lesson program In Alpharetta for 6 months to a year where he is spoiled and pampered and so happy, and I can still go ride whenever I want. She sends me pictures periodically, and he has 3 friends and a big field, and lots of daily love and attention.  Here is one of my favorite funnies from this summer because he has quite the personality. 

In the next picture his little brother Walker is learning good ground manners from him at the trailer.  

The last two pics are from the leasing barn called Autograph Farm. They spoil him rotten!

Thanks for checking in!!

As is usual, I got a little teary-eyed.

Lucky Sid, after a long career of racing, is enjoying retirement.  Marilyne is his second owner I have kept in contact with since he retired.

 

Somehow, I don’t think Sid struggled with the same stress and fear of being retired that I find myself experiencing.  Sid is pampered and spoiled, and happy in his retirement.

And he has three friends and a big field and lots of love and attention.

And I am so envious.

I don’t have three friends or a big field.

I don’t know whether Sid has a bucket list, but he is a horse, so I am sure he has a bucket of something.

But it makes me happy that Sid is happy.

 

 

Frank’s dream finally came true.  He rode Sweet Kiss over the twelve-jump course. Going off at the odds of 20 to 1 against the favorite Gimme.  Gimme led most of the race though Sweet Kiss was just off the pace. Entering the home turn Frank shifted in the saddle and the two horses nearly collided, they made the last jump (somehow), straightened themselves out, and in the stretch Sweet Kiss dug in and pulled away by a length and a half.

Crossing the finish line instead of raising his crop in victory, Frank remained slumped over.

Eventually Frank would slide off the saddle and hit the ground. Though doctors rushed to his aid, Frank was pronounced dead right there on the racetrack.

Apparently, Frank had a heart attack and died probably around the time the two horses nearly collided entering the home turn. Some say it was the stress of the race and losing so much weight in such a short period of time that got him.

And because the rule books said the jockey had to remain in the saddle and cross the finish line in order to officially win, even though he was dead, Frank had won his first and his only race as a jockey.

Sweet Kiss broke her maiden status with the win but would race no more.

She went on to earn the nickname “the Sweet Kiss of Death.”

And Frank Hayes, as a result “is in the Guinness Book of World Records as the first Jockey (and probably first athlete of any sport) to ride to victory after his own death.”

Though Frank’s dream was fulfilled, he not only checked off the bucket, but kicked it too.

I don’t know what the moral of this story is.

Maybe fulfilling dreams aren’t always worth the stress, the effort, and the expense.

Look what it cost Frank Hayes.

Maybe following Sid’s example and just going wherever the bridle leads you is the way to go.

A few friends and a big field.

Or maybe a dock and a fishing pole.

Or a cabin and stream close by.

And of course lots of daily love and attention.

 

Checking off those buckets before we  kick them.