Jockeys take job seriously
By Christopher Heine
Staff writer
Art Linsey had the jumpy look
of an older man who just won a RV
on the Price is Right.
He was leaving the winning cir
cle at State Fair Park, peering side to
side and tugging on his pants ner
vously.
Victory will do that to a horse
man.
One of the three thoroughbreds
he trains, Airsheba (grandson of
Kentucky Derby winner Alysheba),
had just won Friday night’s last race
in a tight finish.
Linsey gathered his ecstasy,
looked to the stands and clapped his
hands as feverishly and triumphant
ly as a humble man can.
“That’s the best feeling in the
whole wide world,” he said. “It’s a
heckuva lot of hard work, but it’s all
worth it when you get across the line
first.”
Racing horses has been Linsey’s
life for more than 30 years. You can
see it in the 65-year-old’s small, sun
burnt face.
He’s far from being alone in his
passion.
Trainers and jockeys, devoted to
their crafts like artists and depres
sion-era farmers, make the races at
the State Fair Park happen.
They are up at 6 a.m. on race
days to walk the horses; the trainers
getting a feel for their thorough
breds condition, and th£jockeys
looking to ride the most primed run
ners.
As you hang around the stables
and locker rooms, you sense these
guys are in heaven. They walk
around cheerfully like young minor
u
I can tell you every
bone in a horse s
body” he said. “That
just shows you how
well you have to
know these animals
to do well”
Armando Martinez
jockey
league baseball players just happy to
be playing the game.
One thing is for sure, they aren’t
getting rich.
Dan Beck, a veteran jockey, said
he and his peers usually pull in
between $20,000-540,000 annually,
depending on how many winning
races they ride.
Beck is from Dodge City, Kan.,
and lay on a kid-sized bunk bed in
the jockeys’ quarters and espoused
his experiences. C
“You have to win in this busi
ness,” he said. “If you don’t win, you
don’t make any money.”
Jockeys have to make quick
decisions in order to be victorious,
Beck said.
“It’s that fast,” he said, snapping
his fingers for emphasis. “Whether
you wait, go out or go in, you have to
react on instinct. And you have to
know your horse.”
Armando Martinez is a jockey
of 11 years who also trains thor
oughbreds in Kentucky during win
ters.
He agreed with Heck that knowl
edge is a jockey’ls winning key.
“I can tell you every bone in a
horse’s body,” he said. “That just
shows you how well you have to
know these animals to do well.
“You have to be able to feel their
bodies to know what to do in the
course of a race - when to push them
and when hold back for a little bit.”
Martinez, who’s wife is also a
horse trainer, said he puts in long
hours at the track.
“But this is what I’ve wanted to
do since I was only 14 in Mexico,”
he said. “I left my mother and father
to start my dream. I want to ride until
I can’t ride anymore. The thrill of
winning is the best feeling in the
whole world.”
Sometimes jockeys lose, howev
er, in the worst kind of way.
Beck said he has broken every
bone in his body. He has a steel plate
from his hip to his knee and one in
his shoulder as well.
“Tibias, fibulas, you name it,” he
said. “You can’t dwell on it and
worry about getting hurt because
you won’t be aggressive.
“You won’t shoot that hole or
take that chance. You won’t do what
you need to win.”
Linsey was running down the
track to check on Airsheba when he
stopped to talk more about his pro
fession. Still excited, he looked
through his 1950s-styled, black
framed glasses.
The sun setting beautifully
behind him, you could only wonder
if there is a senior citizen enjoying
life more anywhere.
“I wouldn’t trade what I do for
anything,” tinsey said. “Every vic
tory helps. I always say winning
makes a 65-year-old man feel 25.”
H
\A/>
Beacon
311 S. nth
> ' J
c Wednesday Thursday
$.50 Draws Karaoke
^
Lounge
Light
438-7211
