The Challenge Cup by Murray West
For any of you that know me well enough - you know I don't read. Wait - I do, I mean I know how and all but I just rarely sit down and read a book. It's not my thing. I've done it before and really enjoyed it - believe me - but if the book is even semi well written - I get lost and part of the book lives in me.
That might sound borderline heading to the mental ward - but that won't be what puts me in a soft white room. I just become very involved with the wording and the story itself and how it relates to my world and personality. Then before I know it - I've incorporated some part of the book into my life. I do it with movies, TV, music, pop culture. I absorb so much and then it overwhelms me.
Last year my friend Margaret gave me a signed copy of Dreams of Roses written by Murray West. I fell in love with it immediately and proudly display it in my reception room of my office (well I did - but I loaned it to someone as a must read - can I get that back this week? thanks). Earlier this summer Margaret gave me Murray's second publication to read and asked if I would review it on my blog. a) I couldn't wait to read it and b) I was excited and scared all at the same time.
I am not a critic - I might be critical but I'm not one to critique someone's writing. Maybe I am? I was honored. I knew Mary Jean Wall had reviewed it on her blog and I skipped reading her entry until tomorrow - so that I was fresh and I was true to Billy.
The time of year is rough for me to add in something extra to be fully honest but doing so allows me to let down from a long day of pedigrees and TVG and updates, proofing, etc. Clears my head a bit for a good nights sleep - which I rarely take advantage of through the fall. I usually sit in bed thinking and thinking of what I have to do tomorrow and watch reruns of Will and Grace or catch Chelsea Lately on E!
I snuggled in to bed with my two French Bulldogs (I'm no Martha Stewart - that would be my two sisters) Beau and Phoebe, TV off (hard for me) and opened The Challenge Cup. I knew ahead of time the premise behind it - great racehorses of the past meeting for a who's the best type race. Having read Dreams of Roses I knew it would be poetic and almost sing songy (is that a style?) Neither of which are typical reads for Billy. Both of which have alerted me that they fit very well into my whirlwind of mentality.
The style almost reminds me of my Mom's dad and some of my second cousins on her side. Very cowboy story telling like. Considering that I have no literary education - I may not know what the hell I'm describing - but I can tell you that it pulls you in and tells a story in a serious yet humorous pattern - but it's not always obvious. Just because it has a rhyme - doesn't make it nursery. You have to think as you go along - it makes you think. I love that so much.
As I read it, of course I thought of how I would review it. It's a story of a race of 14 of the greatest Thoroughbred males since 1970. All racing at the highlight of their career. Obviously it's "out there" but clearly we've all discussed such an idea in some fashion. So thinking about a review made me nervous - I cannot spoil the selections or the ending. I wouldn't dare.
As I read along dancing from phrase to paragraph to chapter - I kept a list in my own head who I would put on such a list. The pressure Mr. West must have put upon himself to write it all down and then release it to the public. Who would you list? Who would win? So much thought was put into this fictitious dream of a race.
I quit listing and went back to focusing on the verse. My dog Beau was quite jealous - nothing should be more important than him. When the list was complete, the distance, the jockeys, the track, (love the idea behind that - you have to read it - ingenious) I was quite tired and found myself like so many days before Breeders' Cup and Kentucky Derby Day - beyond wore out at the prospects of what is to come.
I laid the book down and slept - so peacefully. Usually my nights are filled with dreams that I don't dare touch up on in this venue because you may send the men in white coats for me. Nothing creepy - all just weird, colorful, crazy, exhausting thoughts that mix together from my subconscious. They are what make me - me. They are what keep me from great restful sleep.
This night - I rested. I dreamed of the days I worked one on one with yearlings. The endless hours of walking (I was so healthily thin and fit - that bounce a quarter off your ass fit) where you and the horse are alone in unison. I don't ride - never felt comfortable there but walking a yearling - pushing myself to go fast enough that I still had control - but not running. You can still be one with the horse - and not be on their back. Those were great days - and I loved it. So free. Leaving the other grooms behind and not realizing you were so far away because you were so into the walk.
I dreamed of such a time. It was quiet and peaceful. Stress free - nothing but a job that didn't feel like work. I woke up feeling different. You might think I'm crazy - but honestly this is how easily affected I am by something outstanding - something special. Something different.
I was finally able to get back into bed with Beau and Phoebe - to complete The Challenge Cup. Throughout the reading - I would be thinking - mostly because even as I type this - I have several other thoughts going on in my head. That is what eventually leads to "hearing voices" - remember they were always your voices but you could once decipher them and know you weren't possessed.
What thrilled me as I read was that when I would start thinking - about the outcome of the race long before the start had come - there Mr. West would inject a thought. Another poem inside a poem. Brilliant. It was like he was reading it to me almost and then set it down to give a deeper thought.
When it was time to get to the race - I was on edge. It felt like post time on Derby Day. It felt like my favorite pre-Kentucky 1985 Breeders' Cup Day when Family Style, Twilight Ridge and Arewehavingfunyet were all in the Juvenile Fillies together - and I was head over heals for them all - especially Family Style. I remember my Dad telling me to calm down because there were many races to go - but I was on the edge of my seat rocking like a mental patient (it all comes full circle) - and they weren't even in the gate yet.
When they broke from the gate (in the book) I let out a sigh and Beau jumped up to see if I was ok. Best frickin' dog ever. Maybe he was just seeing if I said his name - because it's more about him than it is about me with Beau. I won't tell you the finish of the race. I will tell you that I was literally rocking in the bed (annoying all) even occasionally letting out a "shit" or a "c'mon Affirmed" (ok you knew he'd be in the book so I can say his name).
By the end I was teary eyed. I don't know why - well I do because I cry like my mother did - and that's ok with me now. It was so much excitement. The quality of the field left me breathless and in awe. If only such a race could actually come about.
There are two lines that grabbed me to the point of writing it down on a sticky note and putting it here on my desk:
And show why only legends dare
to mountaintops aspire!
It's funny how we (and by we I mean people who love horse racing enough to discuss and be overly passionate about even a claimer in the last race on Thursday at any "lesser" track USA) like to compare our current runners - year after year to those that were beyond the magnitude of what we can comprehend. Yet we do so in a manner of mock sometimes or in a manner of disrespect. Saying that there were fewer horses back then, that crop of 3yos was very weak or some basic excuse for greatness.
Yet we still do compare year after year to those greats that stood out among tens of thousands of others.
This book The Challenge Cup has me loving the race horse more today than in May when I was mad at PETA for their continued ignorance. Because of horses that reach Murray West's mountaintop and are still so great that we liken Curlin and Big Brown to them in hopes that either horse might stand in their place or even be mentioned in the same breath- I love horse racing even more.
I suggest you get yourself a copy of The Challenge Cup. Find that spot at Keeneland, a nearby park, your back porch, your cozy bed and let yourself enjoy some poetic fiction that holds in it a truly amazing story of why we all connect to the horse. Who would win your race?
You can find The Challenge Cup in at select stores in Central Kentucky - like Loch Lea Antiques in Paris. You can also contact Murray West at collingwoodpub@bellsouth.net. The book sells for only $20 - and it's well worth every bet you've ever made.
That might sound borderline heading to the mental ward - but that won't be what puts me in a soft white room. I just become very involved with the wording and the story itself and how it relates to my world and personality. Then before I know it - I've incorporated some part of the book into my life. I do it with movies, TV, music, pop culture. I absorb so much and then it overwhelms me.
Last year my friend Margaret gave me a signed copy of Dreams of Roses written by Murray West. I fell in love with it immediately and proudly display it in my reception room of my office (well I did - but I loaned it to someone as a must read - can I get that back this week? thanks). Earlier this summer Margaret gave me Murray's second publication to read and asked if I would review it on my blog. a) I couldn't wait to read it and b) I was excited and scared all at the same time.
I am not a critic - I might be critical but I'm not one to critique someone's writing. Maybe I am? I was honored. I knew Mary Jean Wall had reviewed it on her blog and I skipped reading her entry until tomorrow - so that I was fresh and I was true to Billy.
The time of year is rough for me to add in something extra to be fully honest but doing so allows me to let down from a long day of pedigrees and TVG and updates, proofing, etc. Clears my head a bit for a good nights sleep - which I rarely take advantage of through the fall. I usually sit in bed thinking and thinking of what I have to do tomorrow and watch reruns of Will and Grace or catch Chelsea Lately on E!
I snuggled in to bed with my two French Bulldogs (I'm no Martha Stewart - that would be my two sisters) Beau and Phoebe, TV off (hard for me) and opened The Challenge Cup. I knew ahead of time the premise behind it - great racehorses of the past meeting for a who's the best type race. Having read Dreams of Roses I knew it would be poetic and almost sing songy (is that a style?) Neither of which are typical reads for Billy. Both of which have alerted me that they fit very well into my whirlwind of mentality.
The style almost reminds me of my Mom's dad and some of my second cousins on her side. Very cowboy story telling like. Considering that I have no literary education - I may not know what the hell I'm describing - but I can tell you that it pulls you in and tells a story in a serious yet humorous pattern - but it's not always obvious. Just because it has a rhyme - doesn't make it nursery. You have to think as you go along - it makes you think. I love that so much.
As I read it, of course I thought of how I would review it. It's a story of a race of 14 of the greatest Thoroughbred males since 1970. All racing at the highlight of their career. Obviously it's "out there" but clearly we've all discussed such an idea in some fashion. So thinking about a review made me nervous - I cannot spoil the selections or the ending. I wouldn't dare.
As I read along dancing from phrase to paragraph to chapter - I kept a list in my own head who I would put on such a list. The pressure Mr. West must have put upon himself to write it all down and then release it to the public. Who would you list? Who would win? So much thought was put into this fictitious dream of a race.
I quit listing and went back to focusing on the verse. My dog Beau was quite jealous - nothing should be more important than him. When the list was complete, the distance, the jockeys, the track, (love the idea behind that - you have to read it - ingenious) I was quite tired and found myself like so many days before Breeders' Cup and Kentucky Derby Day - beyond wore out at the prospects of what is to come.
I laid the book down and slept - so peacefully. Usually my nights are filled with dreams that I don't dare touch up on in this venue because you may send the men in white coats for me. Nothing creepy - all just weird, colorful, crazy, exhausting thoughts that mix together from my subconscious. They are what make me - me. They are what keep me from great restful sleep.
This night - I rested. I dreamed of the days I worked one on one with yearlings. The endless hours of walking (I was so healthily thin and fit - that bounce a quarter off your ass fit) where you and the horse are alone in unison. I don't ride - never felt comfortable there but walking a yearling - pushing myself to go fast enough that I still had control - but not running. You can still be one with the horse - and not be on their back. Those were great days - and I loved it. So free. Leaving the other grooms behind and not realizing you were so far away because you were so into the walk.
I dreamed of such a time. It was quiet and peaceful. Stress free - nothing but a job that didn't feel like work. I woke up feeling different. You might think I'm crazy - but honestly this is how easily affected I am by something outstanding - something special. Something different.
I was finally able to get back into bed with Beau and Phoebe - to complete The Challenge Cup. Throughout the reading - I would be thinking - mostly because even as I type this - I have several other thoughts going on in my head. That is what eventually leads to "hearing voices" - remember they were always your voices but you could once decipher them and know you weren't possessed.
What thrilled me as I read was that when I would start thinking - about the outcome of the race long before the start had come - there Mr. West would inject a thought. Another poem inside a poem. Brilliant. It was like he was reading it to me almost and then set it down to give a deeper thought.
When it was time to get to the race - I was on edge. It felt like post time on Derby Day. It felt like my favorite pre-Kentucky 1985 Breeders' Cup Day when Family Style, Twilight Ridge and Arewehavingfunyet were all in the Juvenile Fillies together - and I was head over heals for them all - especially Family Style. I remember my Dad telling me to calm down because there were many races to go - but I was on the edge of my seat rocking like a mental patient (it all comes full circle) - and they weren't even in the gate yet.
When they broke from the gate (in the book) I let out a sigh and Beau jumped up to see if I was ok. Best frickin' dog ever. Maybe he was just seeing if I said his name - because it's more about him than it is about me with Beau. I won't tell you the finish of the race. I will tell you that I was literally rocking in the bed (annoying all) even occasionally letting out a "shit" or a "c'mon Affirmed" (ok you knew he'd be in the book so I can say his name).
By the end I was teary eyed. I don't know why - well I do because I cry like my mother did - and that's ok with me now. It was so much excitement. The quality of the field left me breathless and in awe. If only such a race could actually come about.
There are two lines that grabbed me to the point of writing it down on a sticky note and putting it here on my desk:
And show why only legends dare
to mountaintops aspire!
It's funny how we (and by we I mean people who love horse racing enough to discuss and be overly passionate about even a claimer in the last race on Thursday at any "lesser" track USA) like to compare our current runners - year after year to those that were beyond the magnitude of what we can comprehend. Yet we do so in a manner of mock sometimes or in a manner of disrespect. Saying that there were fewer horses back then, that crop of 3yos was very weak or some basic excuse for greatness.
Yet we still do compare year after year to those greats that stood out among tens of thousands of others.
This book The Challenge Cup has me loving the race horse more today than in May when I was mad at PETA for their continued ignorance. Because of horses that reach Murray West's mountaintop and are still so great that we liken Curlin and Big Brown to them in hopes that either horse might stand in their place or even be mentioned in the same breath- I love horse racing even more.
I suggest you get yourself a copy of The Challenge Cup. Find that spot at Keeneland, a nearby park, your back porch, your cozy bed and let yourself enjoy some poetic fiction that holds in it a truly amazing story of why we all connect to the horse. Who would win your race?
You can find The Challenge Cup in at select stores in Central Kentucky - like Loch Lea Antiques in Paris. You can also contact Murray West at collingwoodpub@bellsouth.net. The book sells for only $20 - and it's well worth every bet you've ever made.
You know me, I never even wanted to go to the horse races when we were kids growing up. I never got what you, mom and dad got so excited about. I'd take my purse and my doll and pretend I was a mom. I'd pick up the loosing tickets off of the ground and put them into my purse. They were my pretend money. I'd also take a small box of crayons, that I pretended were my cigarettes. I thought I looked so grown up!! I liked to watch the actual race, but my gosh it took so long in between the races. You know me, I don't appreciate calmness with nothing to do. But, reading your review of this book, gets me excited for you. I think it is so awesome that a person, you, knows what they are passionate about! You truly have a gift, Billy.
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This post is in response to Billy's blog-it show's up like a response to Vicky's for some reason. Well . . . Billy you sure are in touch with your feelings! (In a good way) I have said before that I don't work in the industry any more because I enjoy it more as a fan being on the outside. Renewed interest in the sport comes at various times, reading your blog, reading a good book, watching the old races of the great horses on youtube (like Slew and Exceller in the 1978 showdown with Affirmed- who had a good excuse in that race!) I used to have a link to Tom Durkin audio on calling the Dream Race of the Century- or something like that. Let's take it a step further . . . we have resurrected old jockeys ("old" meant affectionately) for the legends race. How about we put some of the retired horses back into training for a "at liberty" (handride, less stress, run as they like) race (or races) by these same riders? FOR FUN and with safety in mind. Using horses that, obviously, are not in high demand for their stud fees. Or are geldings, barren mares, retired to other careers, ect. ect. Crazy idea? Take the funds from such races and use them for handicapped jocks and retired racehorse charities. Tour the horses with the jockeys across the country, visit different tracks, rotate jocks on horses if needed, ect. Crazy? Not if attendance records could be set at tracks and funds cover expenses AND bring in a hefty profit. And sell books like the one you just read, with profits to charities.
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