𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀｜𝐋𝐕.𝐂✦𝐍🐊
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Afterlight from the rail｜JRA/NAR｜Personal ｜Removal on request
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🎥 Even Yutaka Take, after all his years in the saddle, has said that Do Deuce was an unusual horse. What surprised him was that a horse with such an extremely high-pitch running style could still handle 2400m and 2500m. That’s why Take has said Do Deuce’s sustained power was remarkable. He has also said in various places that Do Deuce was difficult to ride — a horse who didn’t always show his true ability, and one he never fully figured out, right to the very end. And yet, Take has also said he had a lot of confidence that he could win the Derby with him. In that Derby, he thought he had it won quite comfortably — but then Equinox came at him. And apparently, he also knew that if anyone was going to come, it would be Equinox.
𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀｜𝐋𝐕.𝐂✦𝐍93,875 次观看 • 1 个月前
【Biwa Hayahide :True Strength Refuses Even Thrill】 Since Biwa Hayahide, no horse in JRA history has managed to finish in the top two for 15 consecutive races. He wasn’t just dominant—he was too consistent. So consistent, in fact, that his odds often dropped below 2.0, making the gamble feel pointless. He turned racing into a foregone conclusion. Not a thriller, but a statement of inevitability.
𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀🐎𝐂𝐫◉𝐢𝐱_𝐝𝐮_𝐍◉𝐫𝐝124,911 次观看 • 11 个月前
On March 19, 2021—his seventy-first birthday—a man walked to the pond on his farm and threw himself into it. He had said it again and again, almost like a prayer: “When I leave this world, I don’t want it to be without winning the Derby. I can’t accept that. I absolutely can’t. It’s nothing like the other G1s. For those of us who live in the world of horses, it’s a race apart.” Yet he never held a single classic title, the Japanese Derby included. His name was Okada Shigeyuki. They called him the Commander. He called himself “the man with Japan’s greatest eye for a horse,” and many agreed. It never felt like boasting. He simply saw too much. He traveled to Britain and America when he was young, quarreled with his family, and built everything from scratch. Big Red Farm. Its satellites. The club. He challenged taboos in Japanese breeding—things no one dared attempt—until those very acts became standard practice. Horses he bought, pedigrees others dismissed, kept turning up in the classics. Again and again. It was as if he could see not just what a horse was, but what it might become. Then came Sunday Silence, and the axis of racing shifted. Okada searched obsessively for a stallion who could surpass him. He looked everywhere, spent heavily, and invested without hesitation. Yet deep down, he knew the truth: Sunday Silence was a once-in-a-lifetime existence. There would be no second. Still, for the sake of the Derby—the dream he could not abandon—he kept struggling. In 2008, on the Japanese Derby, a jockey called him. The colt had been favorite for the Satsuki Sho. Okada had even instructed him to ride with the Derby in mind, saying it was fine not to win the Satsuki. And yet, just before the Japanese Derby, Okada said quietly: “Today, ride however you like. We can’t beat Deep Sky.” The jockey was stunned. From a man who had given everything to the Derby, such resignation felt unbearable. Deep Sky won. That was the curse of possessing the finest eye: he could see not only greatness, but also defeat. He continued to challenge the system—JRA, local racing, entrenched power itself. Cosmo Bulk was his provocation. Favorite for the Satsuki Sho, yet the horse Okada feared most was the tenth choice, Daiwa Major. Daiwa Major won. Later came the era of Deep Impact and King Kamehameha. As they kept claiming the Derby, Okada could only smile bitterly. Northern Farm was simply too strong. And then—at last—a different thread. He managed, somehow, to bring Gold Ship in as a stallion. From his prized broodmare band came a filly: Uberleben. Two months after Okada died, she won the Japanese Oaks. It was the first classic victory for horses connected to him. The first time the dream—his dream—broke the surface of history and became real. After the finish, the jockey Mirco Demuro pointed to the sky. A win offered upward. A message. A payment, long overdue. People from Big Red Farm had brought Okada’s photograph to Tokyo Racecourse, holding it as an altar in a place made of noise and speed. And then, from the rival camp—Northern Farm—Yoshida Shunsuke stepped over, looked at the picture, and said with a rough tenderness that only rivals earn the right to show: “What is this… You should’ve brought a bigger one.” There was someone there—usually composed, always steady—who, at that moment, could not stay standing inside himself. Tears spilled out. Then a sob that escaped the body’s permission. A collapse into grief so loud it startled the air. They had finally won a classic. And the one person who should have been there… wasn’t. Over the racecourse speakers, the announcement came—formal, measured, incapable of hiding what it meant: “Thoroughbred Club Ruffian records its first classic victory. This win is dedicated to Okada Shigeyuki, commander of the Meiner stable, who passed away on March 19 this year.”
𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀｜𝐋𝐕.𝐂✦𝐍🐊35,477 次观看 • 5 个月前
