RUNNING WITH THE BULLS | PREAKNESS

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DOWNLOAD! There ain't no preview image. 

RUNNING WITH THE BULLS

 
Placing: FIRST!!! I can't actually believe she/we did it!!! This is our first Triple Crown success <3 <3 woo hooo!  
well done everyone on such a nailbiting race. The entries had me GAGGED. 

References
Horses: 
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven
Background: 
one | two | three | four
Texture: 
one by FantasyStock

Features (L - R)
BTs Mustard Blue
HNPT's Peppercini And Cream
Connachan
LHR Proletarian
Grand Slamm  
ERS Jack the Ripper
AS Ryukotsei
AS Foxfire
EA Iwar
Tap Haus
FP Shadow Fox

The only one I didn't feature is Young Scrappy and Hungry... so I feel bad about that. Sorry!

Artist Comments: 
Please please download for full size!!
I don't have too much to say right now about this one, right now anyway. I've some personal gripes, but I don't really want to get into it, I don't want to sway any judging either way. I'm not feeling great about this one. It hasn't come out the way I'd envisioned. But *shrug* there ya go. 

I challenged myself on size and perspective. I painted it in two halves, both on A2 sheets, then stitching and cleaning in Photoshop. 

Story
(1202 words)  

Rob held the phone against his ear, his heart was beating at an elevated level, though his face remained poker still. In the office of Saltmarket Stud, their American base, a call had come through, with an invitation. 

Mick, sitting at the table, looked up at Rob. 

“Ok, thank you. We’ll get back to you within the hour.” 

He ended the call. And met Mick’s gaze. 

“That was the call. There’s a spot for her, in the Preakness. If we want it.” 

Mick paused. Then breathed heavily. 

They were alone within the office. Outside, their lives were a hustle of American journalists vying for tidbits to spice up the post-Derby stretch. Their filly had performed well, and she’d gained a considerable following. They wanted to know what was next for each Derby and Oaks competitor. Would they see the Scottish filly in the Black Eyed Susan? The Santa Anita Derby? Would she stay in America? 

It felt like they were in a vacuum. Only Mick and Rob within the team knew of their lofty vision of putting Connachan in the Preakness. They were late to nominate; but she had the points, and the colt before her didn’t make the cut. They knew Iwar was running. And the palomino filly Peppercini and Cream. By no means would she be the lone standout filly. And the colts? Olympic levels. 

“What do you think?” asked Rob quietly. 

There was a countdown. They only had the spot for so long. Mick didn’t say anything. He was joint head trainer, but Rob owned the filly. His call was always final; but here was a man asking not only for his trainer’s advice, but of his friend’s. 

They knew the risks. Though a shorter race, Connachan hadn’t run against the boys. And these boys were beasts. This would be gruelling for Connachan. Mick broke Rob’s gaze, to look down at the soft run list of contenders. He half winced. Not only were they all huge colts. American bred at that, dirt bred, but there were so many frontrunners. Connachan wasn’t a sprinter, though she’d tanked up considerably with her American races. 

“Do you think she has a chance?” Rob asked again. 

“We’re right at the end. We have the most distance.” he replied flatly. Already, a disadvantage, but Mick didn’t have the point that out. 

But Mick knew also, that there were a lot of rivalries meeting in this race. Aside from Connachan and Iwar, the Easy Goer and Sunday Silence of that year’s fillies (without the classist elements), Jack the Ripper and Foxfire had faced off, Young Scrappy and Hungry and Mustard Blue; and all of them together in the Preakness. And Foxfire had beaten out Mustard Blue by a nose in the Derby. Mick flicked an eyebrow. Willa and Sam had been following the Derby trail more closely, and he’d gleamed popular opinion from their discussions of the field. 

“There’s a lot of hot, hot horses. Nearly all these colts are known to dislike other colts. Jack the Ripper is downright vicious. Stabled together, this is a hotbed of testosterone.” his eyes flicked back, “Maybe we can use this to our advantage.” 

Rob sat down, listening intently, nodding. 

“We have the outside. We’ve seen how Rachel Alexandra played this game. We keep out, we keep clear. Connachan is cool as a cucumber, all these colts won’t phase her; but no doubt they’ll phase each other. Maybe we can hope all these squabbles will tire them out?” 

Rob glanced at the list, his mouth twisting. “Although we can’t guarantee that will happen. It worked for Rachel Alexandra, but will it work for us?” 

Their eyes met, with an unspoken worry and acknowledgement; it worked for her, but was their filly as good as that? 

“Whatever happens, Connachan is tough. Maybe we place? Maybe we show America how gutsy our girl is. She won in the wet; she can do it again if it came to that. And we don’t have to ship her far.” Mick was getting excited. 

“Erin knows how to ride a horse. Maybe she gets beat, but then we know. Gotta be in it to win it right?” he grinned. 

Rob, still nervous, but confident in his friend’s words, nodded and matched his grin. He reached for his phone, tapping redial. 

“Here we go again.” 

*** 

The morning was bleak. It had rained throughout the previous day, in the Black Eyed Susan, and through the evening. The Maryland forecast seemed to offer the worst, but as the sun rose and the day drifted on, the clouds receded and allowed the track to dry and firm up. The young members of the team were dying to go and explore InfieldFest, bemused by drunken American antics. However, they could only handle a few hours - and Sam a few drinks - before they returned in good time to assist in prepping Connachan. 

A second in the Oaks was tremendous for the team, but coming so close to first they couldn’t help but lament and wish for that little bit more. Hence, here they were - the tallest filly in the Preakness, but dwarfed by the giant horses that swarmed around them. Now that it came to actually being in amongst them, Rob and Mike came to realise the sheer  size of their undertaking. For this second meal of American classics for Connachan; they may have bitten off more than they could chew. 

As long as they don’t choke. 

Connachan as horses go was pretty unaware of the difference in winning and not winning. She just enjoyed passing horses, so as long as she eventually passed whichever horse one; she was usually satisfied. She had run her heart out to ten furlongs in the Oaks. The team were pleased with her. She’d placed. She’d got second! She came away with no damage; only exhausted, and well deserving of rest. 

She’d had it, then back to training, and they had felt for her, because it was gruelling. They knew the pace would be fast in this race. The Oaks had been a distance challenge; and now they would see whether Connachan had the stamina at high speeds, or fade under the pressure. 

They were tacked and ready to go. Connachan was trembling with excitement. The pressure was palpable. Around her, the sheer volume was colts was something she’d not really experienced. Although she’d been stabled with them during the Oaks, they were all around them now, also tacking up. There was more noises, more interaction. They bellowed and blew at each other, stamped their feet and threw themselves about. 

Connachan and Iwar’s teams stood together, Connachan playfully mouthing at Iwar’s bridle, and Iwar butting her head into Connachan’s in response. 

The call to arms came, and Rob shook hands with Alyssa, wishing her luck. Iwar was post position two, so walked off behind Shadow Fox. Mike and Rob waited with Ally, who would be leading Connachan. They exchanged looks, as one by one the other horses passed them into the parade ring. For a moment, when Pippa had passed them, they were alone. Connachan’s ears were pricked; she was ready to follow. 

They were called, and into the fray they went. 

**