Where I Stand—Brian Greenspun: Hearts of winners

Tuesday, July 24, 2001 | 9:38 a.m.

Brian Greenspun is editor of the Las Vegas Sun.

STRIKING it rich in California. Not an unfamiliar theme.

It was way back in the 1840s that people seeking fame and fortune found gold in them thar hills, putting California on the map and gold dust in the hands of ordinary people with extraordinary dreams. It wasn't long before thousands and even millions of people found out what just a few thousand Mexicans knew, making the mainland's westernmost state the sixth largest economy in the world with parts of it claiming status among the most beautiful places on Earth.

This little story is also about gold, although it isn't the kind found in streams or deep in the rich veins of the mother lode by some down-and-out hard-rock miner looking to strike it big. This gold has a name. First name Kona, last name Gold. It is a horse. It is an incredible horse. And it loves to win.

My wife and I have been known to frequent on an infrequent basis the horse tracks of Southern California. Specifically, Del Mar, where the turf meets the surf according to the locals, and where the Sport of Kings is followed with a fervor by aficionados and novices alike. It is a sport made famous by horses like Seabiscuit and Cigar and people like Bing Crosby and Alan Paulson. It is a sport some believe is on a downhill trend but where not a hint of such pessimism exists when the gates spring open and the thoroughbreds are let loose to fly on the wind.

Del Mar's famous track is not a strange place to Las Vegans. For as long as I can remember, those with horse sense and those without have been trekking south to northern San Diego County to beat the Las Vegas heat for a weekend and to beat the odds on their four-legged favorites. It has not been uncommon to see movers, shakers and a host of regular Las Vegans rubbing elbows at the betting windows and rabbit's feet along the rail as they cheer on their jockey-driven dreams, if only for a minute or two.

This weekend was not much different except for the fact that Las Vegas' Irwin Molasky and his son, Andrew, had their racing legend running in the eighth at Del Mar. There are any number of very special horses which have been owned by locals through the years. Claudine Williams and Avis Jansen have seen great pleasure from Selig as have Terry Lanni and Bernie Schiappa with their champion, Ladies Din. Names like Houssels, Sullivan and Sloan have also done our town proud from time to time as have the rest of us who have done our part at the betting windows, mostly paying for the privilege of knowing the owners and providing moral and some economic support.

But none, I suspect, have been so enduring at the starting gate and in the winner's circle as Kona Gold. He's one of those finds that come along once in a great while, if not forever, and who create the same excitement and thrills at his last race as he did the very first time he crossed the finish line in front. He's also 7 years old, which is not young in this business. His longevity and winning ways are a tribute to Irwin's partner and trainer, Bruce Headley who, were it not for Robert Redford's cinematic horse whisperer, would be the real life version.

I am writing about Kona Gold for a reason. Last Saturday night was a charitable event for the UC Davis equine center. It was the time when horse, jockey, trainer, stable and owners of the year were recognized by the horsey set while they raised needed funds to promote and sustain the great work of the famous veterinary school. That night was made more special by the performance of Cirque de Soleil, a solid staple for Las Vegas but an eye opener and heart stopper for the folks in Del Mar who usually turn in after the last race. That night, Kona Gold and his owners, Irwin, Andrew and Bruce, were recognized among the tops in horse racing.

It was the next day that made it doubly sweet.

Kona Gold is a champion. Like all champions he is allowed to pick and choose his races. That means he doesn't step out onto the track very often these days and when he does, it is for real. Real for him was a $200,000 purse and a field of challengers that by race time had dwindled to four as the number of racehorses willing to try test their mettle against the best sprinter in the business.

When Myra and I got to the track, the room Irwin had reserved for friends and family was filled with well-wishers and spectators who came to support a man and his horse. Besides the entire Molasky and Frye families, Drs. Ted Jacobs and Parvin Modaber were there decked out in their Sunday finest. Longtime friends Todd Marshall and Andy Adelson were also on hand to lend support. Throw in the friends of friends and friends of family and the numbers climbed well into the few dozens of people, which is not a problem unless, of course, the horse actually wins and everyone wants to get into the picture at the winner's circle.

The two people I wanted to see most at the track were Jody and Elias Ghanem. For one thing, Jody has a smile and a pile of charm that can make an unexpected loss seem like a win -- which is always a good thing to have around the races. For another thing, Dr. Ghanem is known around the world for his horse-picking ability, another plus when betting is a distinct possibility and losing an even greater one. I always turn to Elias to see what he has gleaned from his myriad racing forms, charts and incantations. And I almost always go the other way, which assures me of a trip to the payout window. So, while everyone was eating in anticipation of the big race, I spent my time at Elias' side as he pored over the paperwork in search of the winner of the Eighth Race. It was the kind of work that must not be disturbed because the least bit of distraction could mean t he difference between a winner and an also-ran, something about which I know a great deal. Finally, he was ready to share w! hich, in itself, is a selfless act around a racetrack. I have many friends who give me the "winners" but they are never the horses they bet on and rarely are they the winners. Why is that? Dr. Ghanem, however, is not that way. If he has the horse, so do his friends.

The question Sunday, of course, was not which horse was the best in the race or, for that matter, the best on the entire track. We knew it was Kona Gold and so did the rest of Del Mar, which had made the noble beast a prohibitive favorite. So much so that a small wager on the nose would return an amount not worth talking about. The three challengers, on the other hand, had earned odds well worth the attention of a betting man. Which one? That was the question.

I waited for Elias to go first. "I love Kona Gold but I also like the one horse, Caller One." That was all I needed. I bet Kona Gold to win and the three and four horses to finish second. The starter opened the gate and all heck and Caller One broke loose.

The challenger jumped out in front and stayed there, increasing his lead by lengths and lengths and creating an impossible situation for Kona Gold to overcome. I looked around the room and nobody could believe how far back their champion was running. Somewhere around the far turn a hole opened up on the rail and when Irwin yelled, "go for it Alex," -- he's the jockey -- I knew I was witnessing the reason we like racing.

It is about heart. It is about never saying never. And it is about going for the gold. This time it was Kona Gold, the sprinter of the year and, perhaps, for all years who was pulling into range of the front runner. Down the back stretch it was all Kona Gold and Caller One. That's when I knew Elias helped me again. When the dust cleared it was a smiling -- yes, he was -- Kona Gold on top and the number four horse in second. The Winner's Circle was jammed! And very, very happy.

I know I'll give back my winnings in the weeks to come but I will never forget the two champions I saw at the track that day. One was my handicapper and friend, Elias Ghanem. The other was Kona Gold. Both have the hearts of winners.

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