1st: Breeders Bowl Turf Distaff (GI), Flounder Turf Distaff (GI), Petunia Handicap (GII), Kakarazuka Tinen Cup (GII), Spankie-Sho All Comers (GII), King George BB Stakes (GIII)
2nd: Cedora Stakes (GI), Flower Pot Stakes (GI), Coalminer Cup (GI), Good Vista Handicap (GII), Buck Dharma (GIII)
3rd: Virgin Mary Stakes (GI), Frank’s Love Stakes (GII)

By- Kingab

“Over here, Phoebe. Turn her this way,” the voice pleaded.

The man they were calling directed his groom to get the still hard-breathing mare turned the way the photographers asked. The handler tried to wheel the worked up mare around, but the lady had a mind of her own and was having none of it.

Road Rubbing pranced, and turned, and tossed her head as though saying, “I am the Queen, and the Queen can do no wrong.” She had proven her royalty only moments ago by unleashing a devastating stretch kick to easily defeat every top grass mare in the world in the GI Breeders Bowl Turf Distaff. A wreath of flowers was placed over her withers, and she didn’t care for that either. She proceeded to spin and turn, and despite her groom’s best efforts, continued to do as she pleased. The now laughing and fist-pumping jockey went along with whatever she did. Phoebe stood back to admire his wonderful mare, and as it would be with anyone, a feeling of pride and accomplishment welled up within him.

“Wow,” he thought, “the Breeders Bowl Champion Turf Mare. I own and train a Breeders Bowl winner.” The reality of it all was just sinking in. The winner’s circle ceremonies were going by so quickly. Pictures were being snapped and hands shaken and congratulations were coming from every direction.

The next thing he knew, the saddle and blanket were off the still-prancing Road Rubbing, and she was being led back to the barn. Phoebe started to follow, but was asked to follow someone in to the awards ceremony. He was led up the stairs into a room where several people were gathered, including a TV personality Phoebe recognized. The governor, or mayor, or some such dignitary whose name Phoebe missed, was shaking his hand and handing him the black stallion statue that all owners and trainers strive to obtain. His hands shook as he grasped the heavy statue, nodding an acknowledgement to the presenter. Phoebe looked into the camera and thanked everyone that he could remember to thank, and then it was over.

Clutching the ebony colored prize, Phoebe started out of the room and realized he was not sure where he was going. “Road Rubbing,” he thought, “I have to see how she is.” His horses had always been his first concern and this day would be no different, no matter what the occasion. As he started around the track, the fans standing next to the railing started shouting congratulations and Phoebe waved and grinned the mother of all grins. Friends and family that had accompanied him when he brought Road Rubbing over from the barn fell in step with him for the joyous and triumphant walk back. A reporter from a horse magazine joined them. Phoebe wasn’t sure which magazine, but the man fell in step with the group.

“Congratulations, Phoebe,” the man said. “Quite an accomplishment. Do you mind if we do a short interview?”

“Sure.” Phoebe was always willing to talk about his favorite subject, his horses.

The man began, “This mare is no doubt one of the best you have ever trained. When did you know she was something special?”

Phoebe’s mind raced back over the time he had known Road Rubbing, and tried to remember as best he could. His thoughts went back to the day he first laid eyes on the strikingly handsome bay daughter of Kris S. As the new horses from the farm were being unloaded at his barn that day, Phoebe had been standing off to the side watching the handlers at work. The last horse off the van was the well-made Road Rubbing, and Phoebe was immediately impressed. The elegant looking lady was very captivating in her appearance. A dark, mahogany bay with a regal head and the air of an aristocrat completed the ‘just smaller than average’ package. She missed nothing about her new surroundings and quickly seemed to understand that this was her new home.

“Who is this one?” Phoebe had asked.

“That’s Road Rubbing,” the driver answered. “She is a four-year-old by Kris S.,” he said. “Boss at the farm said she has had some physical problems, but she is over everything now and is legged up and ready to go. Said he would call you tonight and talk to you about all of the newcomers, especially her.”

The walk back to the barn continued and as he waved and held up the trophy for the fans to see, Phoebe reminisced. “I think the first time I knew she was special was last year, in her first stakes race. It was about her sixth or seventh start, and we were right here, over this grass, and she was a complete outsider. Her odds were about 20/1 as I recall. She just galloped home that day, won by about four lengths, with the jockey hand riding her, never asking her to run at all. Yeah, I think I started to know then.”

As the writer scribbled on his note pad, Phoebe continued. “I always felt she was better than she was giving me though, and finally, in early summer she reached the next plateau. She won three in a row, all graded stakes, against the best horses in the world, male and female. She started the streak in Canada in the GIII King George BB Stakes and drew off at the end to win going away by three lengths, defeating a top-notch field of fillies and mares. Next I shipped her to Japan, against a lot of advice to the contrary I might add, to take on the best turf horses in the world, including School Kris and Stormy Prospector and some other very talented horses. She won that race, The GII Kakarazuka Tinen Cup, by almost four lengths while running a speed figure of 119 and destroyed the field. I was overwhelmed by her performance. She came back two weeks later at Newmarket, against her own sex, and won the GI Flounder Turf Distaff by almost five lengths. It was her first grade one victory, and in a five-week period, it seemed as though she had conquered the world. To me, I guess she had. I knew that after all she had accomplished in that short period, she was indeed, a very special horse.”

The man nodded his head and asked. “What happened after that marvelous win streak?”

“Well,” answered Phoebe, “she went into a little tailspin after that. It is easy to second guess after the fact, but if I had it to do over, I would have given her more time to recover from that ordeal. She really fooled me though. She showed no signs of tailing off, and I truly thought she was made of hickory.”

The reporter looked at Phoebe and said, “Well, she only had one second in her next four starts. Did that concern you?”

Phoebe replied, “At the time it did, but I’ve come to know that she doesn’t care for real hot weather, and that, more than anything else, explains her performances during that period. She bounced back and looked great when I took her back to Japan and we caught cooler weather. She won very easily. After that victory she had two very good seconds in grade one company, one against the boys, which brought her to today.”

Holding the precious trophy aloft, Phoebe smiled the biggest of smiles. “And we know how today turned out!” he said loudly. Cheers from all of his friends answered that statement.

The reporter thanked Phoebe for his time and congratulated him once more before leaving the now partying group. Someone popped open champagne and a glass was thrust into the trainer’s hand. Later, as darkness ascended on the famous track with the twin spires, and the revelry continued, Phoebe walked over and peered in his champion’s stall. She had been walked, cooled out, then bathed and had her legs ‘done up’. She was in her freshly made stall, fed and watered, and given every comfort an equine of her stature could possibly need.

“Thank you champ,” Phoebe whispered. “You’re a special lady and I want you to know how fortunate I am to be associated with you.”

As if understanding his words, the near-black mare tossed her head and snorted. Holding her head high, she walked toward the trainer with what the old timers called ‘The look of Eagles.’ It was a look that said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet!”