From the Blood-Horse, November 3, 2030.
Live A Little caused quite a stir two days ago when winning the Breeders' Cup Classic in a thrilling stretch finish. His owner, 95-year-old Phyllis Wakerphin, also caused quite a stir when the widow of multi-millionaire Jon Wakerphin collapsed after speaking at the trophy ceremony. It was confirmed this morning by Miss Wakerphin's personal secretary that Miss Wakerphin died of a heart attack Saturday night at a Lexington hospital. When asked about the future of Miss Wakerphin's horses, the anonymous secretary stated that all horses currently owned by Miss Wakerphin will be sold on November 29. This includes the champion Live A Little. All other details about Miss Wakerphin's last will and testament are private at this time.
My eyes skimmed over the words on the page for the 50th time, but I still couldn't believe it. Not only had Live A Little just been retired (per Miss Wakerphin's will), but he was going to be sold in three weeks or so. Miss Wakerphin had left the Hall of Fame all her trophies and such, and her money had gone to Old Friends and Keeneland. I had nothing. No Big Horse, little money for buying, and few friends. All I had was a few mementos and the memories. And you can't make money off of memories.
~||~||~||~||~||~||~||~||~||~
November 29, 2030. The dispersal sale of Phyllis Wakerphin's bloodstock.
I stared in awe at the number on the TV. $4,985,000. That was what the price of Live A Little was when the gavel came down. Now, he belonged to Mary and Gary West. He would stand at stud at Hill 'n Dale, where the mighty Seattle Slew had decades before. I had come for the sole reason of making sure Live A Little went to a good home. As I walked out the door of the pavilion, it started pouring, reflecting my mood perfectly. I had no Big Horse anymore. I had no reason to ask favors of people or talk to the blue-bloods anymore. I had no reason to talk to the media. No one remembers the trainers who have one amazing horse and then fade away. People only remember Tom Smith because of the Seabiscuit movie and book, and there was little chance that anyone would make a movie out of Live A Little's story. And even if they did, I would be played by some aristocratic figure who always knew the right thing to do. It better keep storming for the rest of my life. Then it'll really reflect the mood I'm in, I thought gloomily. My journey down had begun, because I knew that you rarely strike gold twice, and I didn't have the luck to be one of those who did.