Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Doctor Dr. Fager

Anyone who knows me, or at least spend some time with me, knows I'm a horse racing fan. I've been going to New York thoroughbred tracks since 1968, when with two friends, brothers, we went to the Belmont Stakes. I hit the $2  Daily Double "cold" (only making one bet for $2) and was permanently hooked. Stage Door Johnny won the Belmont that year, and I still get a kick out of the name of the mare that produced him: Peroxide Blond.

A few years ago the repair guy from Verizon had to walk around the house to get to the cable box. In doing this, he was observant of the garden plaque sign I have on the side shed that says "Aqueduct,"  fittingly, with a blue background. A continued stroll through the garden brought him past a similar plaque, reddish background, spiked into the ground that says "Saratoga," where you'll surely find me in August. At the track, not spiked in the ground.

Then, around the corner wedged near the patio and the house, is the third New York track sign, "Belmont," on an appropriate green background. The Verizon guy took all this in and when it was time to come back in we were talking horses. The fourth, and final sign was not yet there.

How many obituaries have a horse's picture in the same piece as that of the deceased? I've never seen it. But there it is in Tuesday's NYT obituary (print edition) on the good doctor. When I saw the headline that "Dr. Charles Fager, Dies at 90; Lent Name to a Champion" I knew immediately what I'd be reading.

I know all about the association with the famous race horse and how he came to be named Dr. Fager. It was described in the obit, and without the horse association, it might be doubtful that the good doctor would have been a news obituary--at least in New York.

What was missing from the obit was that the trainer whose head he repaired, Johnny Nerud, is still alive and is over 100. He still comes to the track on a regular basis. The horse, Dr. Fager has long left us, but when he was racing at the height of his career in 1968, he was something to behold. Sprints, routes, all carrying weight, meaning the saddle was loaded with lead to handicap his advantage over the rest of the field. And the fields were usually small, because he was that good.

His races with Damascus were the equine version of Ali-Frazier. But the one truly outstanding race was his last, the Vosburgh Handicap at Aqueduct on November 2, 1968, a seven furlong affair, carrying the incredible impost, or weight of 139 pounds, spotting his nearest rival Kissin' George 12 pounds, and a further incredible 34 pounds from the lowest weight.

In those days, assigning weight was a big deal. It was widely used to equalize the competitive chances of the horses and theoretically make them arrive at the wire together.

This of course doesn't happen, and it didn't happen in the Vosburgh, as Dr. Fager took the lead and produced the still outstanding fractions of 22 1/5, 43 4/5, 1:07 4/5, and a final time of 1:20 1/5, a new track record, that stood for decades until Artax broke it, carrying nowhere near the weight of the good doctor.

No one runs a 43 4/5 half and wins a race. No one usually runs the second quarter faster than the first quarter. Quarter horses, another breed from the thoroughbred, and bred for distances up to 600 yards, don't run as fast as the doctor did that day.

Dr. Fager won by six lengths that day, ridden by Braulio Baeza. It was his final race that saw him win 18 times from 22 starts, grass, dirt, routes and sprints. The most versatile horse there has ever been. His record for the mile on dirt still stands: 1:32 1/5. When he was transported back to New York after an out-of-town race the police escort for the van gave the driver a mock "speeding ticket" for  transporting the horse.

The fourth and final plaque in the yard is spiked into the ground near an azalea bush. When I had a cookout last year, a former co-worker scanned the yard for gardening ideas and of course  came across the sign, "DR. FAGER."

She and her boyfriend asked, "who is Dr. Fager?"

I explained we buried the family dentist--but only the hands. The co-worker knew who my family dentist was, so she didn't believe me.

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