I have stored in my kit bag of field trial memories some special (to me) ones that come back often deep in the night when after waking sleep will not return. Here are a few.
At Jimmy Hinton’s Sedgefields, during the Free-For-All, sitting in the living room before the fire with Mr. Jimmy and T. Jack and the judges. Smells of heaven waft in from the kitchen where Barbara and assistants are putting the finish on dinner. Something reminds Jimmy of a certain Hall of Fame handler long dead from the east side of Alabama for whom Jimmy has only distain though he likes his son and more than once tried to hire him. Jimmy tells again of the dead handler’s alleged plot to Shanghai his entry in the National at Ames in the last brace. The comfortable warmth of that fire lives in memory.
My day riding Snake, tall ancient black horse once Charles Morton’s favorite, when my earlier assigned mount tired. “This is a Cadillac ride,” I said to young William Morton, Charles’ son, who is riding as a marshal. “Lot of miles on him though”, William replied.
Near the end of a three-hour finals brace we are nearing the finish coming up out of The Valley of Death when I put Snake in a canter in response to a call of point ahead out of sight. Snake gathers himself for the effort when a front foot hits a depression and Snake’s front end collapses and I catapult forward, landing thankfully in soft mud but forehead first. For a moment nothing on my frame will move. Then feeling comes back and kneeling above me is a goddess, her long blond hair touching my face. It’s Ruth Ann, come to my rescue. I report the short remainder of the trial from the back seat of Mr. Jimmy’s Jeep.
Earlier we are riding down into the long flat bottom near the river and John Russell is handling his little gyp which a few years before had won runner-up here in the National Derby Championship. He puts the spurs to his mount, the one he should not be riding because of its faulty running gear, and takes off at a gallop. Suddenly the mount tumbles and John does a somersault and lands on his back. All riding fear the worst but soon the indomitable professor rises and grins in embarrassment and is soon remounted on the faulty steed and chasing Hilltopper Scooter.
Another year reporting the Derby Championship here and Mr. Hoyt Henley is handling and his entry is getting things done. He calls point in a patch of woods and rides swiftly there. Just after dismounting he falls as he hustles up to flush. He is just a few steps from in front of his derby but it stays put and does not lose style. He pulls himself up with the aid of a sapling and puts the bird to wing. All riding want to cheer.
More such little stories will follow.