The Dubai World Cup is the richest collection of races on Earth, and yesterday's show at the magnificent Meydan Racecourse was no disappointment. Americans who love horse racing were glued to their TVs from the very first minute of the action. And, oh--that first race? NOT the second race on the card, the first: the EMAAR Dubai Kahayla Classic--went off at approximately 8:30AM Eastern Time here in the U.S. (Those not used to being up and ready at that hour to watch horse racing, had to set their alarm clocks--but it was well worth the effort.) If you missed that first post at 8:30AM Saratoga Time, the Dubai Kahayla Classic Sponsored by Emaar, you missed a beautiful sight. Fourteen majestic horses took flight. And the American-bred TM Fred Texas won the race, resoundingly...
I am up to my eyeballs in deadlines today--which is precisely why I need to take a break, and write about something that reminds me why I do what I do.
Allow me to take you to into a timewarp--we're going to visit a land and time that's both far away, yet occurs at this very moment. The land is Dubai, and the time is 5,000 years ago.
This is how I see it unfolding: God had decided that it was time for "horseness," to borrow Plato's concept of The Land of the Forms--it was time for horseness to make its debut on the Earth. He'd fiddled and faddled, tweaked and molded, and gotten the prototype of The Horse. Finally, in His infinite Wisdom, the Almighty came up with Perfection. On that day, on a wind-swept, sun-drenched desert in the Middle East--He breathed life into its forward-facing nostrils, and dropped The Horse. And that horse looked exactly as she does today--that horse is the purebred Arabian...
You have to understand that I did not expect my world to be turned upside-down today. I hunkered down to work in my home office, while outside a snowstorm bore down on me. I was quite fine. Drinking coffee, gathering information on the web, I was utterly loving the silence that a snowstorm forces on a community. Streets become quiet. Cars hush themselves. Even scofflaws come out in the daytime to open their mouths and catch the six-pointed, icy stars on their tongues.
Yes, "scofflaws": you know, those people whose business is done by the dark of night. The shadows are their friends. Like behoodied vampires, the harsh glow of daylight sends them skittering back into their alleyways and abandoned buildings. As so many cockroaches, they seek the company only of their own, and not all that often. But snow! Snow, it seems, reminds us all--even the scofflaws--of our childhood. For just a moment, even the hardest or saddest of us is taken back to a time when our biggest cares involved whether to take the orange or purple ice-pop on a sweltering August afternoon.
So I loved the snow, and the quiet, and the prospect of getting a ton of work done today. Deadlines to meet tomorrow, and the next day, and Monday, and so forth. Today was a day full of promise. My plan for productivity and peace was in place...until I picked up my CrackBerry, turned to msnbc.com and read that Davy Jones had died...
Happy Birthday, Seattle Slew! The mighty warrior horse was foaled on 15 February 1974 at Ben Castleman's White Horse Acres Farm near Lexington, Kentucky--and on his strong back he took millions of people for the ride of our lives. This piece tonight will not be a recitation of stats, for birthday celebrations are about heart, guts, glory and love. Numbers--even extraordinary numbers, such as Slew's achievements--have no place at a birthday party...
HBO has introduced a new series, "Luck," -- I'm sure that every racing fan on Earth--well, OK, at least in the U.S.--is aware of this, and watched the show. We tuned in if for no other reason than the fact that horse racing, which was America's Sport in the 1930s (see previous review, "Saratoga")--is not often the subject of an episode of a series, never mind the setting.
[We' who love the horses and the sport passionately--obsessively--are forced to admit that our beloved industry has lost ground (at least, popularity) to football, basketball, baseball, soccer--even to hot dog-eating contests. (You think I jest! Several years ago, ESPN was slated to show the Santa Anita Derby. I was parked in front of the TV, popcorn and Racing Form in-hand. I was ready. But instead of showing the prestigious race, gorgeous track and beautiful horses--ESPN chose to pre-empt the Derby with a hot-dog eating contest. I was not aware that gluttony is a sport, until that afternoon.)]
For those of you who've not seen the first episode of "Luck,"; who don't get HBO or who live outside the U.S. and couldn't see it--in a nutshell, "Luck" takes place at Santa Anita Park, one of America's most beautiful race courses. The series boasts some gifted actors, including: Dustin Hoffman, Nick Nolte, Dennis Farina--and, thank God, Gary Stevens. (I loved him as a jock, I love him as an actor. The guy can do no wrong, IMHO.) Oh, yes, and Jill Hennessy plays a veterinarian whose 'tude leaves much to be desired...
I love movies that were made in the 1930s. Everything about them--especially the black-and-white films, before color was developed--makes me swoon. I love the clothes, the plots, the complications that magically get fixed within the space of 90 minutes. I love it that men were men, and women more-often-than-not were tough broads, packin' hearts and hair of platinum.
This contemporary society, this 21st Century, can be so smug: too many peeps under the age of 30 believe that those of us over 30 are idiots. And surely, if it didn't happen,oh, within the last five minutes--it has no value. Western culture has too many "heroes" and others who are famous for being famous. It grieves me, actually, that someone with big hair named Snooki has a book on the "New York Times Best-Seller List."
I doubt that she wrote the book, and now I doubt the value of the List.
It's a relief to see that good movies still exist--but you have to wade through a sea of drek in order to find them. If it isn't heavy on sex and violence--the odds of it being a big moneymaker are thin. The problem with a society that insists on a diet of such emotional loudness is that the subtle and delicate often are overlooked--or worse, cast onto the cutting-room floor.
And because too few people can think back to a year that didn't begin in this century, contemporary culture has little room or respect for greatness that existed before this very minute. The phrase, "...that's so five-minutes ago..." is not a joke.
I get overwhelmed by this western culture, and the utter disrespect for the past. I want to close my eyes and transport back to the black-and-white world, where everything was neatly tied up before the film ended--and no one was dead or assaulted along the way.
So I was relieved--and practically out-of-my-mind excited--on Saturday night, when I came across two movies featuring Clark Gable, a mini-festival on TCM. (Turner Classic Movies, a cable channel in the U.S.)
The first, "The Misfits," will be fodder for another article in this column in the very near future. The second Gable film to show that night--"Saratoga," a gorgeous, lush nugget from 1937--is the one that made my culture-weary heart soar...
Note: This article appeared originally in the March, 2011 issue of "Galopp Magasinet," a Swedish horse racing magazine that I just adore. They cover flat racing of all ilks: Arabian, Thoroughbred, Mongolian--you name it. Their photojournalism is second-to-none--and,occasionally, they hire humble writers such as my self, to tell a story or two.
I love John Henry. Our birthdays were a week away: he, born on March 9th, me, on the second. I was going to wait and post this article for his birthday week, but, nah. I decided to put it up now. It's a quiet day, and I hope that some of you will read this and come away with a different understanding of the irascible old Champion. Sometimes, seeing a horse, person or issue from another side can help us gain new perspective...
As those who know me are aware, I am (sadly) a bit of a skeptic, regarding the good intentions of other human beings. My motto, "The more humans I meet...the more I love horses" didn't come into existence because I sought to be quoted 100 years hence, but rather because, in my experience--most people are not as trustworthy as most horses.
It's sad, but it's true.
It's sad, but it's true.
Do you recall the Billy Joel song from 1989, "We Didn't Start the Fire"? In rapid succession, he barked out some 100 events and people that had passed through history between 1949 and 1989. The song's staccato beat and the seeming-cacophony of the music always made me anxious. I think that was the point: we heard and sang the names of some very bad people and events, accompanied by rat-tat-tat-tat music--and maybe, just maybe--we might think about the fact that the actions of an individual or of a nation can ripple to every living being on the planet.
Recent events in our sad, weary world have made me think a great deal about this song--and that things haven't changed very much since 1989, except that perhaps they've gotten worse. Greed, anger, prejudice, hatred--the majority of which are fueled by misconceptions, long-held myths or just plain jealousy--run rampant on our beautiful blue marble planet. One day Guy #1 wants to blow up Country #2; the next day, someone else wants to take over Guy #1's nation, and enslave his people.
It goes on and on, so much rage and unwarranted hatred--the names and locations may change, but the results are the same: we live in a fractured world, with imminent threat of extinction at our own hands. How very stupid are we?
I wonder how it looks from the perspective of One whose feet aren't standing anywhere on the planet? How does this bloated bickering look to God?...
A few weeks ago, I was up way-too late, incapable of sleeping. As I channel-surfed, I thought that the infomercials and other shoppertunities should have bored me into the Arms of Morpheus.
But no. I couldn't sleep, and became aggravated by the drivel that clogged the proverbial airwaves. "These people are earning Big Bucks,and I know great writers who can't get a gig. No justice," I declared.
But then, by the Grace of God and my finely-tuned eye, I spied a horse. A Thoroughbred, to be exact. And he was the newest acquisition of one Mr. Fred Sanford.
Yes! A double bonus: an episode of "Sanford and Son" AND a Thoroughbred. Seems that Fred bought the guy for fifty bucks, with plans to turn him into a stud horse and make millions.
Of course, you know how Fred's plans always work out: they don't. The previous owner had gelded the guy (the horse, not Fred). So once again, Fred was foiled...
For some human beings, writing is an obsession. We have to write, or the chemicals in our heads go haywire. There's stuff floating around in there, and it can get to the point at which we must, absolutely must, get it Out There, into the world beyond our skulls--or we will implode. Shrapnel everywhere. (I wonder what that shrapnel would look like? Bits of lines of poetry by Frost and Dickinson? Fragments of paintings by Bosch, Klee and Moses? Algebraic symbols?)
Anyway. Take the need to write, and complicate that place of perpetual insanity by the passionate, no-holds-barred love for The Horse. Now you have a potentially dangerous person on your hands: while the rest of the world may view the horse writer as a quiet, mousy introvert who keeps to themselves and lives with a cat...
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M.E. Altieri
THE ALPHA MARE, commonly known as M.E. Altieri, is a writer/editor/activist who lives and breathes the art and sport of horse racing—both Arabian and Thoroughbred.
In 19 -- (we're not sharing the year!), at age four, Mare first rode a horse—an American Quarter Horse—on her cousin's farm in Stephentown, New York. That same year her Mother took her to Green Mountain Park, a now- (sadly) defunct Thoroughbred track in Pownal, Vermont. Next stop, Saratoga Race Course. The seed was planted, and a passion, born.
While she does have other interests, none hold a candle to her passion for horses. She finds that horses are far-more intelligent, compassionate and kind than 99% of the people she meets.
Mare has just finished editing a beautiful history book, about Iraqi Purebred Arabians, and is eager for the western world to discover the book, its author and the history of this strain of the breed. Additionally, she contributes to several horse publications (racing and otherwise), including Arabian Finish Line, Desert Mirage and Galopp Magasinet. The Alpha Mare Series, a book series for children, will debut on Caballito Books.
An Alumna of Mount Holyoke College, Mare is a member of American Horse Publications, the Arabian Jockey Club and Arab Business Club. She invites you to read the blog—and to comment here in the Comments section. Become involved in the equine industry via whatever interests you most—and tell Mare about your passion for the horses, the people and the scene. In the words of the great Harvey Pack, Mare offers this benediction: "May the Horse be with you."
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