Jockey's Game of Fire & Ice

"How many ways can you skin a rabbit?"

Hell, buddy, at least as many ways as there are jockeys in a jock's room—and that’s sayin’ somethin', ‘cause those fellas are slipperier than a greased possum in a moonshine barrel.

See, handicappin’ a race ain’t just lookin’ at past performances, speed figs, or who had a nice breeze Tuesday morning. Naw. If you wanna really play the game, you gotta dig into jockey politics. And that’s about as straightforward as teachin’ quantum physics to a goat on roller skates.

“It’s like catchin’ a rabbit… first you gotta catch the damn rabbit.”

Yup. And in this case, the rabbit is truth. Good luck.

Jockeys ain’t exactly known for wearin’ their hearts on their silks, they swap them silks every race. They're mercenaries—little wiry poker-faced mercenaries. And their agents? Lord have mercy. Those folks could broker Middle East peace talks while makin' sure their guy lands on the favorite in the 5th and longshot in the feature.

I'm absolutely certain they could solve world hunger and famine, if given a chance.

“Jockey musical chairs” ain't no child's game

One minute they’re breezin’ a horse for a trainer, next minute they’re ghostin’ that same barn like it’s their Tinder date who mentioned MLMs, network marketing, way too early.

You see a jock workin’ a horse in the AM, you think: Ah-ha! Connection! Loyalty! Chemistry!

Nope. Come post-time, he’s on another horse entirely—one he ain’t ever laid eyes on.

Why?

Because its straight from an episode of Game of Thrones, and the song of Fire and Ice.

Hell if I know. Could be the agent’s tight with the owner. Could be that new mount’s a freak on the track and word got out. Or maybe it’s just the trainer owes somebody a favor from 2019 when they split a pick 6 pool at Gulfstream and promised, “I got you next time, fam.”

The Ortiz brothers:

These boys don’t just ride horses. They run the damn show. Same agent, same blood, same plan—sweep the board like it’s Mafia night at the bingo hall.

They’re in the barns before sunrise, not even to ride sometimes—just to scope. Who's got the goods? Who's peakin'? Who's got a pulse? who's flatlining?

They ain't loyal to you—they loyal to the best setup. And that might mean ditchin’ a horse they worked twice just to sneak onto a second-choice with inside info. That’s not betrayal—that’s business, that's the game from Saratoga all the way out West.

The only place more political is Capitol Hill.

Some trainers don’t even play the game

Wesley Ward brings in Victor Espinoza like he’s flyin’ in a sniper from an elite SWAT team.

Why? Because he knows Victor. Trusts him. Doesn’t have to navigate the local Game of Thrones with the agents and alliances. It's not about who might ride best—it’s who won’t screw him over tryin’ to hustle for the next ride. Victor will take care of the horse with a plan in mind.

Notice, especially at 'Toga how many trainers bring their own jocks.....Tells you most of what you need to know, without me having to say to it.

The headache of jockey handicappin’

Jockey Z breezes the 5 horse but hops on the 8 horse, who he’s never ridden. What gives?

Could be:

• Inside info.

• An agent with leverage.

• Some kinda backroom deal involving three trainers, two horses, and a promise to get Saez next week if he gives up the mount now.

• Or maybe Z just likes the color green that day.

  
  

We don’t know. We’re not supposed to know.

And the jocks? They sure as hell ain’t tellin’ you. Interview 'em, and all you get is “Horse felt good,” “Trainer had him ready,” they thank the connections or its “We’ll see next time.”

Translation: Mind your damn business.

The agent game

Jockey A wants to ride Horse 5. But he’s been on Horse 3 of late. So the agent orchestrates a swap like it’s the NBA draft:

“We’ll give you Saez today, and in exchange, we want the 2nd-out allowance mount next Thursday. Deal?”

Trainer agrees. Horse 5 wins. Two weeks later, Jockey A is back on Horse 3, in a better spot.

That is handicapping warfare, my friend. And unless you’re sittin’ in the war room with a whiteboard and push pins connectin’ all the players, you’re just another mushroom in the shade.

So how many ways can you skin a rabbit?

Shit, at Saratoga? in reality everywhere, All of ‘em.

But just remember: it don’t matter if you got the knife if the rabbit’s already run off with the jockey's agent to ride in the 6th.