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What’s a Sulky anyway?

The year is eighteen hundred and…something. The newspaper was king, disagreements were settled at gunpoint, and a young Betty was bleaching her first moustache hair.

Back before cars, bikes, rollerblades, and Razr scooters, horses were a primary method of transportation. Doctors, traveling salesmen, and bank robbers all used this new innovation called the “sulky” - if you had crap to carry with you, these two-wheeled, single-seat carts were fastened to horses and off you went. They were so named after the owner’s desire to ride alone: there was room for one person, a few pieces of luggage, and a dream - that’s about it.

The sulky trend caught on, quickly spreading from lowly peasants all the way up to the President, who sent Col. Willett from New York to Georgia in a sulky. That’s the equivalent of the presidential limo today…now that’s high rollin’.

Sulkies put the “sport” in transport by making their way into the racing world in the 1840’s. They were a welcome innovation to the industry, eventually spawning it’s own unique sport: Harness racing.

Over the next 130 years, harness racing blossomed into an international obsession, growing a loyal fan base distinct from its thoroughbred brethren. Advancement of technology and materials has led to countless modifications to the axles, wheels, and springs. These changes render today’s sulkies narrower than their forefathers, with the seat of the race bike moved over closer to the left side on the arch, and are considerably lighter.

These days, there are two types of sulkies used in harness racing: Jog carts and race bikes. Jog carts are the heavier of the two, used solely for training because they operate at lower speeds than race bikes, which are for official use in races or qualifying races. Race bikes are more compact and aerodynamic than a jog cart, have a smaller seat that reduces weight but requires more athleticism on the part of the driver.

With the advent of the automobile, the sulky was all set for extinction. But thanks to the racing industry, they’ve become the centerpiece of a sport adored by people worldwide. Looks like the sulky doesn’t have much to sulk about, does it?

(unlike Betty, who’s still bleaching her moustache!)


You know you’ve gotten sulky when…

  • You trot or pace to answer the doorbell
  • In order to drive your car, you first attach a wheelbarrow to the rear.
  • You eat oatmeal for breakfast, Banana Oat Muffins for lunch, and Oat Bran for dinner.
  • You place a superfecta on the order in which your friends are going to get married (or divorced)
  • You make harness races out of your noodles.
  • You attach sulkies to garden snails and make a race track in your bath tub.
  • You show up to work in your son’s skateboard helmet and colored pajamas.
  • You feel the need to “call the race” as your girlfriend/wife/child brushes their teeth.
  • You exchange your shampoo for something that promises to “make your mane look healthier”

Think being a barista is hard? Try training a harness horse

Jack and all you young iTube listen' whippersnappers think that life's so hard workin' part time at the coffee shop? Harrumph. You want to admire the young fellows who scream into microphones and wear eyeliner?

I'll tell you one thing: there's no more manly a man out there than a horse trainer. Now that's a hard days work. ladies only did the foxtrot with REAL mean. There's something about the scent of a man who's worked a hard day in the paddock that gets a lady's heart ticking.

These guys work day and night keeping their horses healthy and ready to run, and not with any a' those wimpy nine-to-five workdays the Commies forced on us in the 50's. Livin' a life of hard work, constant pressure, crazy highs, desperate lows, and rare glory – not for the faint of heart, I'll tell you what.

Caring for a winning steed takes discipline, focus, and patience, but the most important thing is your heart. It's a physical and emotional rollercoaster as your raise your horse from a foal, watchin' that youngster grow and mature into a race-ready stallion.

So all you backwards hat, baggy jeans wearin' kids out there want to get some hair on your chest, might want to consider getting out in the barn and working up an honest sweat instead of sitting at home on your lazy rump watching videos on that YouPod doohickey.


Where do race horses get their names?

From Precious Bunny to Adios Harry to Somethingaboutmaori, racehorses sure do have some crazy names. But while they might sound like something conjured up during a drug binge, most horse names actually have some rhyme to their reason. Like Pete Jr. or Jason (Jay’s son), quite often the horse’s name is relevant to their mother or father’s name. Sound simple enough? Not so fast. That being said, there are some basic rules:

  1. A horse's name can be no more than 18 characters, including spaces.
  2. You cannot use a name that is on the Register of Horse Names. This is a list of all the names currently in use. Names cannot be used again until at least 5 years after the death of the original horse. Names of winners of major race are protected forever, so there will never be another Tell All or Hambletonian. One loophole though this is that the horses name is registered in the country of its birth, this is why you can sometimes get two horses with the same name at the same time - because they have been registered in different countries.
  3. You cannot use a name whose meaning, spelling or pronunciation can be deemed offensive or insulting. Some famous examples of names that have been turned down are: Joe Blob, Wearthefoxhat (say it fast in an Irish accent!) and Mary Hinge.
  4. You cannot use names that may cause confusion under the rules of racing. For example you cannot call a horse They’re Off.

So before you go out and buy your first yearling, remember you can’t name it supercalafragilisticexpialadocious, Seabiscuit, racingisforlosers, or Photo Finish.


Paris' first bet

From the day I found my beloved ferret Paris in a shoebox behind the bingo parlour, it was love at first site. We were like two foodstamps – stuck on each other. We walked together, shouted at the television together, even smoked cigarettes together. To this day, I have so many wonderful memories with her, and surely even more which I can’t remember. But no day will be more memorable for me than the day my two beloveds – the track and my sweet little Paris – finally came together: The day Paris made her first bet.

There we were, in line at Woodbine…or was it Grand River? No, I think it was the one with…no, that was another time. Anyway, we were in line, and we decided to take five dollars from Paris’ allowance and put it on a horse aptly named French Connection to show in the third race. Now Paris, being a ferret of considerable intellect and grace, thoroughly understood the 15-1 odds against French Connection, but we remained steadfast that the risk was worth the reward.

We took our usual seats, two stools in the unventilated corner of the smoking section. From the first hoof out of the gate, her little paws were shaking in excitement (my hands were shaking too, but from the arthritis).

I could tell Paris was having the time of her life, the way she sat on my lap sniffing the candy wrapper on the table. French Connection started off slow, but Paris cheered for her horse, at one point getting so flustered she knocked over my carafe of warm milk. When a rather rotund man stood up in front of us, blocking her view, she nipped him in his ample rump, that little rapscallion!

When French Connection crossed the finish line in fourth, poor Paris was inconsolable! To cheer her up, I took another five dollars from her hip replacement fund and placed it on a sure thing. We lost that too, but by then Paris was hooked: the excitement and glamour of the track was safely implanted in her little furry heart forever.


The race is ON

Somebeachsomewhere tore up the track in 2007 on its way to sharing Canadian Harness racing’s highest honor, putting the exclamation mark on a season even hotter than its name. So after beating everyone else, we put the two-year-old pacing phenom to the ultimate test: racing God.

Date of Birth:
SBSW: May 25th, 2005
GOD: Forever Ago
Advantage: God – Experience triumphs over youth

Born in:
SBSW: Ontario
GOD: Heaven
Advantage: Tie – Ontario is heaven.

Biggest Fear:
SBSW: The Glue Factory
GOD: That someone uses his name in vain
Advantage: SBSW – have a sense of humor, will ya?

Lineage:
SBSW: Mach Three out of Where’s the Beach
GOD: Unknown
Advantage: GOD – Gotta feel for the guy, coming from a broken home

Key Attribute:
SBSW: Unparalleled strength and power
GOD: All-seeing, all-knowing
Advantage: God – Because he knows what I’m thinking right now

Greatest Accomplishment:
SBSW: World record 1:49:3 mile at Mowhawk Racetrack
GOD: The whole "universe" thing
Advantage: God, in a close one - Can’t have one without the other.

Pre-race diet:
SBSW: Oats
GOD: Whatever Ms. God’s got in the fridge
Advantage: SBSW – Ms. God is no Rachel Ray, if you catch my drift

Seen Often In:
SBSW: The Winners Circle
GOD: Dreams
Advantage: SBSW

Driver:
SBSW: Paul MacDonell
GOD: None
Advantage: SBSW

Racing Style:
SBSW: Pace
GOD: Upright
Advantage: Go….wait a minute: two legs? [whistle screeching] Gotta have four limbs on the track to race. That’s a disqualification! Winner: Somebeachsomewhere!!!


Sulky 101: Differences between harness racing and thoroughbred racing.

Difference #1:
Harness races use drivers, not jockeys. While jockeys sit in the saddle, mounted directly on top of the thoroughbred, we think that’s a little creepy. After all, the term ‘jockey’ was used to describe a ‘cunning trickster’ in the 17th century. Drivers sit in the sulky, the wheeled cart attached to the horse, and steer from a safe, courteous position behind the horse, not on top.

Difference #2:
Harness races use Standardbred horses, not thoroughbreds. The difference has nothing to do with purity or ability – they are two different breeds, like a beagle and a Daschund.

Difference #3:
Harness horses accelerate during the final ¼ mile of the race. Thoroughbreds do not.

Difference #4:
Harness race officials are called ‘judges’. Thoroughbred officials are called ‘stewards’.

Difference #5:
While thoroughbreds wear a saddle and bridle during a race, Standardbreds wear a bridle and a Buxton Martingale harness, which keeps the harness from slipping.

Difference #6:
A thoroughbred race begins out of a stationary gate. Harness races begin with a rolling gate. A car with a gate attached begins circling the track, opening the attached gate to signal the beginning of the race*.
*The driver must get the horse up to their position by the time the gate reaches the fair start pole (usually defined by two green poles which are lit up about one full turn around the track). If they don’t reach the gate in time, it may be considered a false start and will cause a refund.

Difference #7:
Unlike Thoroughbred jockeys, drivers register their own colours and wear them every time they race. Thus, colors follow the driver, not the horse.

Difference #81:
They are raced in different gaits. Thoroughbreds race in a gallop (a four-beat gait), while standardbreds race either in the trot (a diagonal two-beat gait) or in the pace (a lateral two-beat gait).

Difference #9:
The first Thoroughbred horse came to North America in 1730, named Bulle Rock. The first Standardbred horse was born 119 years later in 1849, named Hambletonian.


Who’s Your Standardbred Daddy?

While I’ll never know for sure whether it was Adam, some big bang, or a darned monkey who was responsible for bringing me into existence, the origin of the Standardbred breed is a known face. Yessir, we got one horse to thank for all the wonderful and talented standardbreds of today and yesteryear: Dan Patch, Albatross, Moni Maker, Billyjojimbob – they all trace back to one special steed.

The year was 1788. After the dust settled in the American Revolution (now THAT was a war!), a sharp grey thoroughbred named Messenger arrived from Britain. Although it’s not known for certain, I presume he came on a boat, as I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have made the swim. Anyway, he got there, and once an official Yank, he was purchased by Henry Astor, the brother of John Jacob Astor, the millionaire fur-trading opium dealer.

Ol’ Henry kept clear of the opium and sought out every opportunity to cash in on Messenger. And believe me, these mares he was made to cover were not upper-crust ladies. Astor bred Messenger with any easy equine he could get his hands on.

And over time, Messenger’s sons had foals of their own. One odd looking horse in particular, a big-rumped stallion named Hambletonian, was particularly fast.

Over the next 24 years Hambletonian was the Peter North of racehorses, producing more than 1,3000 foals. And through four of Hambletonian’s sons the lineage of virtually all American Standardbred race horses can be traced.

If Messenger could have only lived to see his influence, he would have been so proud. Sadly, Messenger died on January 8, 1808 at the tender age of 28. His body lays buried on Long Island.

Every year on the anniversary of his death I go and place a bale of premium hay on the grave of the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather or harness racing.

I invite you to do the same.


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