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Desert Stormer by Lucy Walker 
Blood pounded in her ears. Flying mud, flashing hooves, the clamoring crowd, all came
together in a blur. She'd fought hard, so hard and now her whole world was nothing but a swirl
of sound, straining muscles and bursting lungs. Head and head she ran with Mr. Greeley; he
looked her in the eye, challenging her courage and her desire. But Desert Stormer was made of
stronger stuff. The blood of Storm Cat coursed through her veins; his mettle was hers and her
heart was her own. She was up for the battle and as they dueled passed the eighth pole, the crowd
rose to cheer them on.
Her trainer, Frank Lyons, was one of those in the stands, standing and straining to see his mare as she drove to the wire. Everything was happening so quickly, he had no time to think. Could she hold on? Would she win? Who would have known, when Desert Stormer was just a little filly growing up in the rich pastures of Kentucky, that on the biggest racing day of 1995, she would be vying for the title of sprint champion? Certainly Joanne Noor, who had owned her since birth, had hopes that her well- bred filly would turn into a runner. But even the best breeding and extraordinary talent cannot guarantee success. It takes courage and desire, blessings that are not merely inherited but also a part of a creature's own spirit. No one could be sure of the fire that burned within the vigorous, bay filly as she gamboled alongside her mother or raced the other foals while at play. As Desert Stormer grew into a leggy two year old she began to show promise. It was not until the age of three however, that she made her first start, and what a brilliant debut it was! On October 13th 1993, at Santa Anita Park, Desert Stormer broke from the post in sixth place and proceeded to run down her rivals with remarkable efficiency, finishing in a time of 1:09 flat, exceptionally fast for a maiden filly. Finally, she was on her way. Desert Stormer ran twice more as a three year old, garnering another win and a second. She was quickly becoming a crack sprinter; her well-balanced frame was muscular and robust, a sure indicator of explosive speed. A true daughter of Storm Cat, Desert Stormer had not merely her sire's talent but his fire and her own iron will. She demanded respect; her handlers quickly learned not to fight with the tough, bay filly. Her high courage would never allow her to give in. In 1994, her four year old season, Desert Stormer ran eight times; three of those starts were on turf, rather than the dirt courses to which she had been accustomed. She ran fairly well on the grass, finishing third twice, but was a better mare on the dirt. Back on the familiar surface and catching a fast track at Del Mar in August, she won the Rancho Bernardino Breeders' Cup Handicap, covering the 6 furlongs in a quick 1:14.4. She entered the Winner's Circle with a light step and a far-away look in her eye. Ever proud, Desert Stormer knew she was back where she belonged. At five, the headstrong filly had grown into a mare of rare courage and strength. She was not a gentle horse, not one for petting or treats; it was her work that she loved. Many horses, out on the track in the morning to train, are playful or lazy. Often they need to work in company; without another horse to chase, they have no interest in running. Desert Stormer however, was all business. She wanted to run, to feel her lungs fill until her breath came in spurts, to stretch her muscles to their very limits. Her trainer learned never to work her with others; she became highly aggressive and used up too much of herself in training. When Desert Stormer had another horse in her sights she was relentless. Her greatest joy was passing them, staring them down, conquering rivals with her will as much as with her speed and strength. While Desert Stormer loved to run, there was no doubt she was willful, and frequently it showed at the starting gate. She was tough to load, and if she were loaded early, often grew impatient waiting. Some horses simply fear entering such a small, cramped space. If so, they are taken out in the mornings to practice and after a while loose their apprehensions. But Desert Stormer was a smart mare; her trainer often said she was smarter that some people. In her case, fear was not a factor. She knew what the gate was, and only got worse if she was made to practice. She was simply asserting her independence. She was the one who was running; as far as she was concerned, she'd go in when she was darned good and ready. "Don't hit her or try to force her in," Lyons warned the assistant starters, who led the horses to the gate. "When she makes her mind up to fight, she won't quit." He understood; she'd load in her own good time. Once the gates flew open however, the big mare knew what she was about. Her powerful, sprinter's muscles gave her tremendous speed and the ability to burst from the start. But Desert Stormer did not need the lead to win. Despite her headstrong nature, the mare was rateable; able to slow and then quicken as her jockey asked. It was as though she understood his goal was the same as hers - victory! Desert Stormer's first start as a five year old was at 7 furlongs and resulted in a third place finish. Her second start came two months later at Santa Anita. On that rainy March day, the mare was victorious, finishing the six furlong Las Flores Breeder's Cup Handicap in a blazing 108.2. No doubt this was her best distance, and a track labeled "wet-fast" was no problem for the big mare. She loved the mud. Indeed, Desert Stormer almost seemed to prefer to run in the soft mud rather than over a fast, dry track. Though well built, Lyons noticed the mare pointed one foot when she stood. This, combined with her preference for soft going, gave him a clue that her feet might be sore. Her hoof walls were weak, so Lyons had her standard, nailed on shoes replaced with those that glued to the hoof. Only an hour later she was standing squarely on all four feet for the first time in two years. Lyons had a feeling that now Desert Stormer was ready to accomplish something extraordinary. The mare's next two starts were true to form; she ran second in a seven furlong race at Hollywood followed by a victory about a month later at six furlongs, this time at Golden Gate Park near San Francisco. It was now June, and Lyons began mapping out a plan for Desert Stormer that would lead to her running in The Sprint on racing's biggest day: The Breeders' Cup Championships. Desert Stormer's owner, Joanne Nor, was skeptical. The mare was good, but surely, against the best sprinters in the country, most of them male, she'd have little chance for victory. Most of the rest of the racing world was equally as skeptical. After all, she had never run outside of California and she had only run against her own sex. Lyons however, was positive she had a shot. "I've been around her and I know, if there's a much faster horse, he'd have to be a freak." Still, Nor resisted. Lyons was determined however, and went on with his preparations. He knew Desert Stormer ran well fresh, off works alone, and so planned to race her only one more time prior to the big day at the end of October, in New York. He explained to the owner that they'd arrive two weeks before the race and if it came up too tough, they could enter her in The First Flight, a race held the day before the Breeders' Cup and run at seven furlongs. Reluctantly, Nor agreed. Her final outing before the Breeders' Cup was in August at Del Mar; she finished second running six and a half furlongs. Now it was time for careful training and what was harder...waiting. As Desert Stormer came up to the race, Lyon's confidence grew. While the rest of the racing world still disregarded her chances , the trainer watched her competition and liked none more than his own bay mare. With a couple of good, stiff works to tighten her up, Lyons flew his mare to Belmont. Her last prep had been so impressive, running 37.2 seconds for the half mile, he was positive he'd gotten her ready at just the right time. Even better, rain was providing them with her favorite, muddy surface. "Break quickly," he told jockey Kent Desourmeaux, "And keep her near the lead. There won't be much closing in the slop." There would be no First Flight for Desert Stormer. She was ready for the big boys. Lyons' only worry was the gate. He'd warned the assistant starters to go easy with her but on Breeders' Cup day everyone was always so wound up sometimes instructions were forgotten. Desert Stormer was the last to load and sure enough, she balked. Hurriedly, one of the starters smacked her firmly on the rump. Lyons cringed. But the mare merely twitched a hip resentfully and marched into place. Her trainer sighed with relief. "It's as if she knows," he thought to himself, "It's as if she's saying, It's the Breeder's cup, so I'll let you get away with this one." And then she broke...fast. Now they were down to the last eighth of a mile and there she was, dueling with Mr. Greeley, desperately trying to hold her lead. Already she'd lost it once, for the briefest instant, at the quarter pole but quickly thrust her head back in front. Lyons, standing with the screaming crowd, couldn't see her...didn't know...would she do it and prove to the world his faith was not misplaced? With Desormeaux pushing her, pleading with her, willing his own courage into her already valiant heart, Desert Stormer running the race of her life, crossing the line to the announcer's words, "Desert Stormer holding on...a shocker!!" She'd done it! The bay mare had won the Breeders' Cup Sprint. Lyons went to the Winner's Circle trying to comprehend his overwhelming accomplishment. To win a Breeders' Cup Race with the very first horse he'd entered was incredible. Further, in the previous ten renewals of the Breeders' Cup, only twice before had fillies won the sprint. Words failed him as he tried to describe the awe and amazement he felt. It would be days before a full realization of what had taken place came upon him, that he'd trained a champion, where others doubted it could be done. Lyon's confidence had not been misplaced. Even more amazing, the mare had lost one of her front shoes while turning for home, yet was still able to grab the surface and hang on to win. Desert Stormer however, was not at all awestruck by her victory. She posed for the photographer, confident and poised, accepting the admiration as her due. She'd no lack of faith in herself; the mare knew that when she put her mind to winning few could challenge her. On October 28th, 1995, she'd proven that to the world. Desert Stormer is retired now and her own three year old daughter, Sahara Gold, is racing for Stonerside Stable. Like her mother, Sahara Gold prefers distances between six and seven furlongs, and though she does not perhaps, possess Desert Stormer's blazing speed, she is a good filly, with three wins and several seconds on her record. She shows her mother's heart and courage and carries on the legacy of a great mare: Desert Stormer. |