The Turn for Home by Jenny Ortuoste

8/13/2019 The Turn for Home by Jenny Ortuoste

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Memories oSanta Ana Park

THE

TURN FORHOME

B y J E N N Y O R T U O S T E


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1: larga Te track location

A the fringes of the cities of Manilaand Makati is Santa Ana, a slice oftown that seems as if it cant quite makeup its mind whether it is as upscale asMakati or as down-to-earth as Manila.Filipinos being an adaptive race, residentshave hit upon the happy expedient ofblending both ambiences into a cultureboth posh and plebian. Condominiumsrise beside drab one-story homes; offices with glass windows and doors are builtbesidecarinderias and auto talyers .

At the end of Pasong amo, a few

kilometers away from the high-rises of Ayala Avenue, the street name changesto A. P. Reyes Avenue and skyscrapersgive way to humble eateries, a lotto outlet,an Andoks Manok branch. Just past theMcDonalds and Jollibee on the oppositecorners, high white walls stretch the length

of the street and cover an entire block.Behind the walls is Santa Ana

Park, once the racetrack facility of thePhilippine Racing Club. Built in 1937close to the Manila town it was namedfor, the track was shut down in 2009 andmoved to a far larger property in Naic,Cavite.

Te Philippine Racing Club wasfounded by American and Filipino

horsemen and entrepreneurs in the late1920s as a counterpart to the Manila

Jockey Club, enclave of Spanish andFilipino aristocrats at its foundation in1867.

Tere were three main structures onthe twenty-ve hectare property, all in the

then-fashionable Art Deco style twograndstands and an office building. Tere

was a mile-and-a-quarter long oval dirttrack surrounded by stables that, as thesport grew over time, mushroomed to farmore than the area could comfortablyhold.

Until the facilities were moved to Naicraces had been held continuously at Santa

Ana Park since it was built, with only

Te urn for Home: Memories of Santa Ana Park

Te faade of the office building along APReyes Avenue.(Oct 2008)

B y J E N N Y O R T U O S T E


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a brief hiatus during the war. Te place was named for St. Anne, patron saint ofnearby Santa Ana, Manila, although theproperty itself was part of Makati. Overseven decades, the track was the sceneof countless challenging races, the arenaof the victory and defeat of championracehorses and horsemen.

Te area is home to my two daughtersand myself. We have lived on my formerfather-in-law s compound behind thetrack since my marriage to his son, a jockey, in 1990. A veterinarian and horsetrainer, he maintained his nearly 1,000-square meter property as a racing stable with stalls for twelve. We lived with thesounds of soft neighing and hoofbeatsas the horses were hotwalked in themornings after ensayo, and the clankingof the tin labangans as feeding timeapproached.

2: unang kurbada Te gates

HERE were four main gates to thetrack, all along A. P. Reyes Avenue.Gate One was the rst on the right,coming from Pasong amo. It openedonto several decrepit wooden stables- ung kina Jun Paman, kinaFernandoPoe. Gate wo was open only on racedaysand let out onto the parking lot. Gate 3allowed cars inside even on non-race days;through it passed, in the morning, theneighborhoods matrons who stretchedcreakingly as their husbands, old men in white tee-shirts, shorts to their knees,and long white socks, took their morningconstitution, huffing around the parkinglot and main buildings for half-an-hour to sit upon a bench and smokeafter, wheezing through their incipientemphysema sayingNakakahingal angmag-jogging.

Gate Four opened straight to thecockpit, where thesabungeros were more vociferous in cheering thankareristas . It

was the gate through which horses stabledoutside the racetrack entered for theirmorning workouts, though some passedthrough Gate One, if it was nearer. (Tere was another gate, along HippodromoStreet, which was perpendicular to Pasong amo.) Beside the crumbling sabungan was an alley that led to the track. It wasconcrete-paved but narrow and only horses

passed there, or the occasional vehicle,

with official approval. Another lane leddown the left to more stables.

Between Gates Tree and Four wasanother gate, which was not numberedsince it was the only one through which

vehicles could not pass. Tis was thepedestrian gate for admissions. Tere weretwo old-fashioned turnstiles painted greenBooths were built beside it, and women

sold tickets for admission at ten pesos.

Neighborhood matrons performing aerobic exercises in the parking lot. (October

Te Alcasid Stable, (October 2008


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Another turnstile was fortaga-karera(members of the racing community who were directly responsible for putting onraces) and visitors who were not chargedthe price of a ticket. Tat gate was openedonly on racing days, one hour before theraces began. Outside that gate and Gate Tree were poised the sellers of racingprograms Dividendazo,Silip Saiempo, the now-defunct but excellently-printed Racing ime and Patok whoalso purveyed black and blue ballpointpens (for writing downruta , or bettingcombinations), cigarettes, cheap lighters,and candy Orange Sweet, Mentos, andHalls.

Despite the security guards placedat all gates, residents and outsiders stillfound ways to enter thekarerahan viathe labyrinth of stables built just outsidethe track walls but with gates leading tothe track, or by scrambling over the roofs

of the grooms quarters and stables builtcrowded against each other, jostling eachother for space as structures grew in layersover the decades. By residents are meantthe people who lived with the horses and

were responsible for their care groomsand their families, some trainers, and onehorseowner Jun Paman and his family.

Te last I heard, he is still there, a holdoutof the last days, choking on dust as theremaining structures around his are razedto the ground while he gazes, forlorn, at

where a vibrant community once bustled.Upon entering through the turnstile

gate, racegoers saw two main buildingsin the Art Deco style, both coated in

white paint. In the late 90s until thetrack was shut down, the ground oor ofthe building on the left, facing the track the main building, though both werethe same size housedcarinderias builtright inside the old betting stations,

cement cubicles that were necessaryto accommodate bettors in the daysbefore off-track betting stations andraces broadcast on cable television andthe subsequent dwindling of trackattendance.

Te ballroom and studioOn the second oor of the mainbuilding were a vast parquet-tiledballroom, the broadcast studio,horseowners boxes, and VIP lounges.

Te ballroom, one of my grand-auntssaid, was where they had dances for thealta sociedadduring the late 30s and early40s. Tat conjured up for me visions of

women with bobbed and marcelled hair,

clad in crispbaro at saya whirling in thearms of men in somber suits to tunesplayed on a victrola. Tose lofty days arelong gone, because when I rst saw theballroom in 1990, it was only a wide sun

Te turnstiles at the pedestrian entrance. (October 2008)


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drenched space, the wooden tiles scuffedand dislodged in many places by the heelsof unromantic bettors.

Te walls above and all aroundthe ballroom were adorned with badmurals of champion horses from the60s and 70s Sun God, Reporter, Fairand Square. What the pieces lacked inaesthetics was compensated for by thefact that the gaudy paintings were a sortof immortality for the winners, whosenames would have faded from memoryotherwise except from the minds of those who actually saw them run.

In later years the ballroom was usedfor community functions. It was where Istaged the rst Gintong Lahi Awards forthe Philippine Toroughbred Ownersand Breeders Organization (Philtobo)in 1991. Te industrys only recognitionprogram, the Gintong Lahiceremonyrecognizes annual achievements in racingand breeding. I had the raised stage onthe right side of the ballroom cleanedand adorned with a painted Styrofoamset and blue and yellow balloons. Atdusk, it looked quite presentable with the white-draped tables and monobloc chairs

provided by Cunanan Catering, ownedby a horseowner used to the preferencesof his fellow horsemen. He ordered an icesculpture of a horse set up in the centerof the ballroom, lit from beneath by pink, yellow, and blue lights. It was spectacularand something that the Philtobomembers and guests never forgot, evenafter they held the event at fancy hotelslater on.

Te jockeys also borrowed thatballroom several times over the years fortheir Christmas parties. Tere are usuallyaround 150 active jockeys in a year, andthey, along with retired and injured jockeys and their wives, would pack thehuge space and party all night.

Off the ballroom, on the left sidefacing the track (always facing the track, which is how the taga-karera spatially

oriented themselves, the track being thefacilitysraison detre and the source of thecommunitys livelihood) was a broadcaststudio constructed in late 2004. Horseraces, for reasons of transparency and tosupport the off-track betting stations,have been televised on and off on freetelevision since the 1950s and on cablesoon after it became widely available inthe country.

When my marriage faltered in 2002and I had to go back to work to supportmy daughters, I was hired as a broadcastcommentator for PRC. Tey outsourcethe production of the live horseracingcoverage to two small outts, Pro-Adsand Creative Station, and it was withthem that I learned the skill of racecommentating. We used a makeshiftstudio on the second oor of a decrepit

wooden structure attached to thestewards stand midway the two main ArtDeco buildings. Te wooden oor boards

were ancient and warped. Tey sagged visibly and emitted ominous creakingnoises. We joked that no one should gainany weight or else the entire structure

would come down. Te joke wasnt all

that funny because the scenario wasentirely possible. In 2004 work began ona new facility just off the ballroom.

Unbeknownst to Pro-Ads/CreativeStation, PRC built the new studio foranother production company that was,in effect, in-house. Te Creative Stationcrew walked out hours before the startof the races one afternoon after learningthat their contract would not be renewed.

Te new production company, PrimeChannel, moved their broadcastingequipment switchers, mixers, cameras into the hastily constructed studio which

was still being nished withmasillaand painted and managed to be up andrunning with only three hours notice.

I was the only race commentatorremaining after the Creative Stationexodus (I was an employee of the Club,

as both racing clubs are called, not ofthe production company), and sat aloneon the panel for an entire raceweek ofsix days, on board for eight races on

uesday to Tursday, nine races on Friday,and thirteen races on the weekend. Ideveloped an allergy to the dust raised inconstruction and rushed to the MakatiMedical Hospitals emergency roomtwice that week (after the races, of courssince the show must go on) for shotsof Benadryl to bring down the swellingfrom hives that erupted all over my armsPRC gave me a bonus of ve thousandpesos for that solo stint. I used the moneto pay for medical expenses related to thallergy, grinning sourly at the irony.

I didnt have truly interestingexperiences in that new studio off theballroom because I left PRC in 2005,the year after it was constructed, to workfor horseowner Hermie Esguerra at hisholdings company.

I had more memorable moments atthe old wooden studio where I workedfor three years. In October 2002, CreativStation staged the only Halloween speciin horseracing broadcasting. I dressed

as Elvira, Lady of the Dark, in a long-sleeved asymmetrical top and a skirt

with a jagged hem that grazed the oor;my makeup was appropriately spooky. Iused half a pan of black eyeshadow and

wore my eyeliner pencil down to a stub.I looked like a raccoon. Or dead. Myco-hosts were dressed as Frankenstein,a mummy, and a corpse bride who woreall white in contrast to my black. We

remained in persona the entire evening. ext messages from racing fans kept ourmobile phones beeping the entire night,saying how they enjoyed the humorousshow. My youngest daughter, who wasve years old at the time, told me laterthat my mother-in-law, who had takenher sons part in our marital troubles,had pointed to the television screen andscreeched: I was right! See, your mothe


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is a witch! I told you! Hilarious. Te breakdown of my marriage was

sudden but not wholly unexpected. Myex-husband had difficulty controlling histemper and over the eleven years we weretogether he often exploded, leaving mebeaten and weeping in a corner. Te endcame soon after he took a mistress for whom he bought many things. GroceriesI didnt mind so much, but it was seeing acredit card bill for three television sets thatnally emboldened me to confront himand risk his heavy-handed, acid-tongued wrath. Glaring at him, I waved the billsunder his nose. He said, Tat bill is wrong! I didnt buy her three Vs. I onlybought her two!

Over several months I cried andbegged for him to come back. One day heresponded to my pleas by gagging me withduct tape and binding my hands and legs with estribera - thin leather stirrup straps cinching the buckles tighter than he would have for a race. I felt violated. Hetreated me worse than he did horses.

When he left, our housemaid, sobbingand frightened, freed me from my bonds.She embraced me and promised to be my

rock during the crisis. A week later shetook a fast plane to Cebu with most of my jewelry, all the cash in my exs drawer, anda favorite quilt I had made myself.

Te punches kept raining on me,despite my feeble attempts to duck. Soonafter that, my ex and his parents hid my youngest daughter from me for a week. Icomplained to the barangay captain, whotook my exs side. Incensed at my airing

our dirty laundry to other people, myex-husband and his parents evicted mychildren and me from the compound.

Tat incident heralded the non-resurrectible death of our marriage. Idecided to move and found an apartmentfor rent in nearby Syquia Street, on theboundary of Manila and Makati. It was a walking distance from the track; I could notbear to be too far away from the familiar.

Since I had no money of my own, Icould not stop working and could not takecharge on moving day. I had broadcastduty at the track the day of our transfer.My new yaya , an intrepid woman who hadgood culinary and social skills, assured meshe could take care of things and shooedme off to Santa Ana Park. With the helpof grooms from nearby stables, she stuffedour possessions into feed sacks. I had tobring our Siamese cat, Bastet, with me to work as there was no one to take care ofthe cat.

Tat afternoon, Bastet jumped out ofmy bag and onto the desk as I and anotherracing analyst, jockey Joey Macaraig, wereon air live doing our opening spiel. Shesat on the desk and meowed plaintively. Te director yelled Cut! when Joeyand I burst out laughing. Te directorordered a production assistant to grab thenonchalant Siamese as we did the openingagain, barely able to contain our giggles.

Te tension I was under this time wascruelly intense. I had to keep up my spiritsto buoy up the children, who were upsetand afraid. Every little instance of joy thatcame my way, like the incident with the

cat, was savored and treasured.Indelity is tolerated and common

among men within the racing culture, asit is in the mainstream, but there is anunspoken code that dictates a man shouldnever leave his wife and children. Whatmy ex did was considered beyond the pale. Yet since it wasaway mag-asawa, noone could interfere, only support. I wasdevastated at the breakup of our family,

but had no choice but to take the hitsand soldier on. Among thetaga-karera, strength in adversity and resilience areconsidered core virtues.

aga-karera are those people directlyinvolved with the races. Tey are setapart from karerista bettors or racingacionados. In the racing community, jobsare handed down through generations. Tere are surnames that resound in the

sport through the years Guce, Basco,Dilema. Tese are batang karera peopleborn into racing. My two daughters arebatang karera. I am not.

I received a lot of advice during thistime. Te one that sustained me mostcame from veteran jockey Joe Noel Cam

who said:Huwag kang paa-api sa kanilaandaan mo, batang karera ka!It was his

way of saying, You are one of us. o meit was a conferment of that elite status

within the community. It was then thatfelt I truly belonged and accepted in the

world that I had embraced.

3: cinco-octavo Te boxes and

grandstands

BO H the Art Deco buildings onthe property had private boxes onthe second oor leased by horseownersor big bettors. Te boxes all faced thetrack and had huge glass windows and airconditioning with a television monitordedicated to the racing channel. Howeverthose boxes were tiny, with space only

for a small table and about ve chairs.One horseowner told me that his maidsbathroom was bigger. But Filipinos, beinginured to cramped spaces, sometimescrowded as many as ten at a time in theboxes, especially during blockbuster race

Te boxes could be decorated accordingto the owners taste and means, as long ashe did not add nor subtract anything tothe basic structure. Hermie Esguerra had

the walls of his covered with wallpaper,and he brought in sofas and huge leatheroffice chairs. Jun Almedas window wascovered with one-way tint, through whichone would peer and sometimes see, dimlyMikey Arroyo laughing with Jun and theiother friends.

Betting stands were positioned atintervals right outside the boxes; thehorseowners were pampered by the club,


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since the heavy bettors among them wereknown to plunk down fty thousand pesosor more on just one race. o cater to their

wishes, runners or betting assistants, notnecessarily club employees, ingratiatedthemselves with particular horseownersor bettors and stayed the entire racingevening or day with them, running withtheir bets to the nearest takilya . In turnthey received meals and, should the bettor win, balato. If the bettor was the generoustype, everyone in the box receivedsomething, and sometimes the teller at the

takilya who had sold the winning ticket was given a little cash as well.

A word on balato: the term hasbeen tarnished with the connotation ofobligatory handout, given to friendsand family when one has gained suddengood fortune from gambling, the lottery,or competitions. Te denizens who linedup for cash or goods outside boxer MannyPacquiaos (who, by the way, had visited

the Santa Ana Park at least twice) home were asking forbalato.

However, in the racing culture, one

does not ask forbalato; it is consideredbastos vulgar - to do so; it is not what atrue taga-karera would do. One waits to begiven a share of a friends winnings, whichmay be in cash or in kind, such as thegesture of paying for the groups meals anddrinks. If none is forthcoming, that is allright, as it is not obligatory though it maybe hoped for, especially if thedividendo(winnings) are huge compared to the

puhunan(capital). It is considered goodform to give a share to the tipster whogave the winning combination, anywherefrom ten to twenty percent, againdepending on the size of the dividends.

Where did the masses who couldnot afford their own boxes stay? On thelower oors of both buildings were thegrandstands. Racegoers on a budget wouldcrowd into the low spaces underneath,

where there were no seats save for concrebenches here and there built around thepillars holding up the rickety wooden

structure under the main building. Wooden seats were neatly ranged on thelevel above; the club charged ten pesosper person for the privilege of sittingon the benches coated in chipped darkgreen paint. In the other building (neitherbuilding had a name; people just said sakaliwangbuilding or sa kanan), concretebleachers above wide steps seemed alwaylittered with crumpled betting tickets,

cigarette butts, candy wrappers, anddrinking straws no matter how often

janitors shuffled around with their broomand dustpans.

On the ground levels of both buildingsthere were eateries hawkingarroz caldo,bulalo, and beer. Laguintos Carinderia waperhaps the most popular, owned as it waby veteran jockey Angelito Laguinto. Follined up for their hot goto and palabok,

Te grandstand on the left side. Te trainers box is the one with the monobloc chairs.


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hanging around the stall hoping for racingtips from the Laguinto clan or from jockey Angelito himself when he occasionallydropped by. Shakeys Pizza once set upa kiosk and a portable oven. Tey weremobbed the rst couple of months, butafter the novelty of having a brand-namefast food at the track faded for

racing fans Shakeys sales dippedand they left, pizza not beingtraditional inuman or karerafare. SavoryRestaurant with their famous chickenrecipe did much better and was alwayspacked, as was the Main rack Bar andGrill at the parking lot, which, with its airof seedy gentility, was the meeting placeof choice for minor horseowners andheavy bettors, the air inside choked withcigarette smoke and the heady hops aromaof San Miguel beer.

In later years, the ground oor of theright-hand building, which used to belled with betting cubicles, required whenthere were no off-track betting stations, was converted into indoor badmintoncourts. A bridgeway was built to connectboth buildings much later on, which madeit convenient to cross over to see friendson both sides.

4: likuran Te track

HE Santa Ana track was a mile-and-a-quarter long dirt track, dirt beinga racing term that refers to a surface that isnot turf or grass. Most dirt tracks around

the world use sea sand, a semi-coarse variety as powder sand is too ne and

will cause horses to slip, while rocky sand will injure their hooves. Modern surfacessuch as the Cushion rack and Poly- rackbrands mix synthetic ber and wax withsand to provide an all-weather surfacethat is kinder to horses hooves. But asSanta Anita Park in California found out,synthetics are a bitch to drain, causing ahalt to their racemeets until their track warehabilitated. On my visit there in 2009,Santa Anita Park president Ron Charlestook me down to the track one morning.He bent down, took up a handful of thedirt, and pressed some into my hand. Hetold me to recommend it to Santa AnaPark management for their new track atNaic, Cavite.

I crumbled the material between myngers, marvelling at how much softer it

was than sea sand, but since my shoes ha


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sunk halfway into the synthetic, I felt this was something Philippine racing could do without, because compacted sand providesa rmer surface for good track times whilestill having the yield and cushioning toprotect horses hooves and jockeys in caseof a fall. Besides, the Philippines being anarchipelago, sea sand is plentiful, whereasthe synthetic costs millions of pesos theindustry can ill afford.

Te track is marked along its lengthinto sections. Philippine racing still usesSpanish terms in its lingo, mixed with American. Teres rst bend or clubhouseturn; tres-octavo (three-eighths mile);media milya or half-mile; cinco octavo (ve-eighths mile);meta (nish line); and muchmore. Te graceful cadences of Castiliantrip lightly on Filipino tongues that seguebetween languages as uidly as horsesgallop.

Workouts on the track took place inthe mornings as early as four. In the stilldark, horses and riders emerged, grayshadows moving clip-clop towards thesand-lled oval. Horses gruntedhruhmm,pawing the ground, impatient to be takenon their one-trot, two-canter, tranco, or

whatever work the trainer prescribed forthem that day.

I rst stepped on that dirt oval in1990, a sports correspondent for the Manila Chroniclegathering material onhorseracing via direct participation,ala Hunter Tompson. I signed up as anapprentice jockey and was given a feistytwo-year-old colt the groom called anakni Alamat, Alamat being the colts dam.

He hadnt been given his own name yet ashis owner had not registered him.

I started the colt off on three roundsof the track on a walk. As we both gotstronger and developed muscles, wegraduated to a harder routine. First a walkand a trot, then two rounds of trotting,then one day the trainer, leaning againstthe rail, held up three ngers and yelled,atlong torote . Tis was the routine the


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other exercise riders and apprentices did

most often. I felt I had arrived. I wrote a series of articles forChronicle detailing my adventures as an apprentice,from the morning works to the physicaltraining that my male classmates breezedthrough while I did my best to get by. Te day I stopped feeling gonzo was when Alamats colt shied at a piece ofpaper on the track and galloped at topspeed. I had not learned to gallop yet andcould not control my mount. Jockeys andgrooms yelled for others to clear the track Kaskas! Runaway! as I hung on to thereins, the wind whipping my shirt againstmy chest.

Te colt spied a gap in the rails that ledto our stables. He swerved to go throughit, threw me off-balance, and I spun inmid-air, landing at on my back on thesand.

I felt no fear. Tere was no pain. Te

sky was very blue and the clouds were very white. Te sand was gritty under myngers, and I thought, this is not Santa Ana sand, there are no beaches here,only the Pasig River. Te sand was aliento the place, trucked there from someshoreline in northern Luzon. But it hadbeen trodden by people and horses andthat made it part of the town. Tere I was,lying in several inches of dirt, embeddedin Santa Ana in a way few people everexperienced.

Jockeys rode past me; unseatedapprentices were not an unusual sight, infact it was expected for one to fall severaltimes during training, and since it wasobvious I wasnt dead yet - there wasno cause for alarm. One jockey did stopbeside me as I lay in the sand, staringblankly up at the sky.

He halted his horse and leaned over

me. I saw him upside down. It wassome wiry guy clad in layers of t-shirt,sweatshirt, and jacket. Tey all looked alikin their helmets.

Okay ka lang? he asked.Of course not, you idiot, I nearly broke

my neck when I fell and I could have beeparalyzed from the neck down like Ron

urcotte who rode Secretariat who wasthe greatest racehorse of all time in myopinion and he spent the rest of his life ina wheelchair until he died in a car acciden urcotte, not Secretariat, was what I

wanted to say.Im ne, was what I actually said.

We were married at Don BoscoChurch ve months later.

Te wedding was simple yet movingand heartfelt and many said after whata wonderful couple we looked, he in a

Batch 4 of the Philippine Jockeys Academy. I am in the center, in the striped shirt; the third person from me on the right is Bene


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cutwork-embellished jusibarong fromLumban and I in an ecru failleterno withdense embroidery of whitesampaguita andgreen vines and leaves on hem, sleeves,and panuelo. One of my aunts, who ran anembroidery-for-export business, stayed uplate the night before the wedding stitchingbeads on my panuelo. She had alsoarranged for the creation of my weddingbouquet of sampaguita , telling me shehad a difficult time nding a orist who would agree to handling the tiny, delicate,fragrant orets.

Among the guests at my wedding weremy fellow apprentices and they sat at onetable. Our riding teacher said much laterthat my best friend among them, BenerNepomuceno, could not stop weeping atthe ceremony and reception. He was myguide and defender during the time I was with them for training and I had no ideahe liked me.

Bener worked horses where I did the Nicky Jacinto stables and heunfolded the intricacies of track lifeto me. He taught me how to read theracing programs, how to watch a race with a critical eye, and how to go around

horses without being kicked. He showedme how to center a saddle on a horses

back on top of the mattress pad, how tobuckle the overgirth tight to avoid a slipand fall, and how to hold the reins nottoo loosely that the horse could notfeel the bit, not to hard to damage theirsensitive mouths and create abisyoso horse. It was sad that after my marriage,I had to give up my old friends. Teyunderstood. My then-husband was the jealous type.

As a young mother, I took my babiesto the track nearly every day theirrst couple of months to catch themorning sun. When they were older,they learned to toddle on the grass thatringed the track by the outer rail as theirfather rode by, smiling indulgently. My youngest daughter, born with a severecase of jaundice brought about by theincompatibility between her fathers bloodtype and mine (showing we never shouldhave married in the rst place), recoveredfrom it after I took her to the track tobathe in the suns rays. From yellow, herskin turned pink in increments; proof, Ithought, that the sunlight at the track wasmore efficacious than anywhere else.

Te old track at Santa Ana Park saw

some of the most thrilling battles the sporthas known. It was Wind Blowns home

track, Wind Blown the idol of racingfans, who could carry an impost of sixtykilos and still run as eet as thought. Heis now standing stud at Herma Farmsin Batangas, the prize stallion of top-ranked horseowner and breeder HermieEsguerras ranch.

Bred by Sandy Javier, Wind Blown(Hazm Wind in My Hair by CoxsRidge) looked like a tadpole as a foal, hisformer groom Esting Labra commentedin an interview I did with him before hedied. Esting loved hisalaga, bathing himnot with bareta soap, as is the commonpractice, but with Sunsilk shampoo insachets that hed open with his teeth anddrop to the paliguan oor.

As a colt Wind Blown was ungainlyand moved awkwardly, even after trainingso Sandy sold him to Hermie as a three-

year-old, knowing the colt had potentialthat had not yet manifested itself. A latebloomer, Wind Blown began assertinghimself in the latter part of that season,

winning the third leg of the riple Crownin 2000. He went on to triumph in that

years Philippine Charity Sweepstakes-sponsored Presidential Gold Cup, the

most prestigious event on the calendar,and scored again the following year in thesame race, a feat performed by only threeother horses Fair and Square (1981and 1982), who later stood at stud andthrew some excellent stakes runners; theincomparable lly Sun Dancer (1989 and1990), who later became a broodmare butdid not produce champions; and the feistyand aptly-named Bulldozer (1996 and

1997). Wind Blown tried for a three-peat in

2002, but carried sixty kilograms and losto Free Wind who had a handicap weighof fty-six. For years after that, Hermie

would recall that incident and say,Sinonga iyong tumalo sa atin saGold Cup,

Jen? And I would make sure to forgetthe name of the horse that beat the trackidol.Te late groom Esting Labra, Wind Blown, myself, and trainer Nestor Manalang, at the

Herma stables at Santa Ana Park in 2004.


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Down the stretch at Santa Ana Park


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5: media milya Te jockeys quarters

B Y the tracks rst bend were theclinic, jockeys quarters, and saddlingpaddock. Tere was always at least onenurse on duty whenever there were

workouts and races. Te nurse at Santa Ana Park, whom I only knew by her rstname, Chit, was plump and jolly and soldfood on the side longganiza, daing nabangus, embotido. After we separated, myex used to buy whatever she had and sendit to my place to make up for not giving amontly sustento for our children.

Tere was also an ambulance parkedin front of the clinic during workouts.

During races, it followed the horsesaround the track but outside the rail.Should any jockey or exercise rider beinjured badly enough to have to be takento the hospital, Chit or the other nurse,Myrna, would ride in the ambulance with them. Tey also had to monitor the jockeys vital signs before the races; shoulda riders blood pressure shoot up too high,he would be declared unt to ride by

the racing stewards and be replaced byanother jockey of the same classication.Otherwise, the horse would be scratchedfrom the race, an outcome no one wantedas it meant loss of potential income.

What people know of horseracing jockeys is, in general, only whatthey see on cable televisionsKarera Channel. Short muscular men dressedin colorful eye-popping silks swing a legatop Toroughbreds taller than themselvesand ride them at top speed around anelliptical track. Teir faces are barelydiscernible under their helmets and thestraps criss-crossing their cheeks; theyare recognized by their eyes and smiles. Teirs is a physically demanding and very stressful job. o ease the pressurethey sing karaoke, dance, drink lightbeer f rom cans, and, at parties, some

A screenshot of Karera 2000, a short-lived horseracing show in 1997 aired on Pwhich I co-hosted with basketball coach, horseowner, and later Pampanga governor

Yeng Guiao. Behind us are the saddling paddock on the right, the silks room on thethe gate leading to the track.

ita Jen, kinukunan mo na naman kami? Exerciserider Kiko Dilema works horses one October morning

in 2008. At the rear of the image is the rst bend. In thedistance are the skyscrapers of Ayala Avenue.


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wear weird clothing like tartan kilts withspiked hair. Well, it was just this onerider, Noriel Cannoay, and he wore thatred and black monstrosity one year to the jockeys Christmas party. Others eschewthe man-skirts and decorate themselves with misspelled tattoos of banal religiousplatitudes like Jesus is my Saviuor.

Te jockeys quarters at Santa Ana Park was a two-story wood-frame building, asdecrepit and dirty as the other old woodenstructures on the premises. On the groundoor were a dining table and a space forthe meal concessionaire, a former ridernamed Atik Salvador who had brokenhis thigh during a race and never fullyrecovered. Tere was a television on the wall. Club regulations prohibited showingthe betting matrix on any of the jockeys

quarters monitors to discourage race xing,so the sets were usually tuned to gameshows, variety shows, ortelenovelas .

Behind the table were the whippingbenches for training apprentices. Tese were ordinary wooden benches withmetal eyes on one end to fasten reins to, while padded rectangles on the otherend simulated the anks of a horse. Apprentices would straddle the bench,crouch low in the monkey ride ortonka ride position, chest as close to the bench aspossible, and scrub the reins, all the while wielding a whip on the pads.

Also practiced were ipping the whipup from a tucked position to whippingposition, and switching the whip to eitherhand. Some apprentices would imitate theolder veterans and add their own ourishesthat made them look like band majorettes.Our riding instructor, an elderly Americannamed George Stribling, discouraged the arte among his boys and taught a simplerform of the whip up and the switch,although once the apprentices graduatedto journeymen and were out from underhis thumb, they pretty much did what they wanted in those terms out on the track.

Also on the ground oor was a sauna,in which nearly all the riders spent at leastan hour each raceday. Making weightis the most difficult thing a jockey hasto accomplish. Riding, in contrast, isconsidered easy and even pleasurable.Other jockeys went to extremes to keeptheir weight down, such as fasting andtaking appetite suppressant drugs suchas Ionamin. It was said that excessive

use of the latter led to star jockey JesusGuces deafness and consequent speechimpediment in his later years. I couldbarely understand him, I remember, and would whisper to bystanders: Ano rawsabi ni Bong ? Because of that, most riderstoday back up their morning workoutson the track with visits to the gym whileexercising discipline and self-control at thedining table.

Te second oor was one huge room,divided into two an airconditioned areaand one that was not. Beds lled both,and it was here that the jockeys passedthe time between races napping, havingmassages, and playing video games. My e

was considered odd because he preferredto read novels during the 90s, he had hfavorite om Clancy and John Grisham,and later Dan Brown and David Baldacci Matalino kasi , the other riders shrugged

Once in a while I had to wander insidefor interviews or on other errands and italways disconcerted me to come in and semen whom I knew and interacted with asfriends walking around in their underweaor with towels around their waists. Tey

were used to seeing me, and in any caseI was not a stranger I wastaga-karera and they knew if I was there, seeing themhalf-naked, I had good reason. For me it

was like seeing twenty clones of my ex-husband walking around or lounging.

Someone told me that there wereghosts in that building shadows that

would it hither and yon, only to be seenfrom the corner of your eye. Or there

would be strange noises at night. Te same

was said of the main buildings the oldman in the ladies bathroom who glaredat everyone who came in, looking forsomeone in particular. And so on. Notbeing sensitive myself to such things, Inever saw anything out of the ordinary, budid sense an eeriness when walking arounthe place late at night or in the wee hours

6: huling kurbada Te stables

O NE of the most important areasof the track was the stables. It was where the racehorses were housed, thosemagnicent animals that pounded the sand

with their hooves during races, manes andtails ying, sharing for a few minutes thegift of their speed with the slow, ploddinghumans who could only watch and marvel


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Te horses that are registered to race onPhilippine tracks are all Toroughbreds. Te word is always spelled with a capital , as if it were a brand name. Tis is aparticular breed of horse, and all of todays Toroughbreds are descended from threestocky and sturdy ancestor horses broughtto England centuries ago the Byerley urk (1680), the Darley Arabian (1704),and the Godolphin Arabian (1729). Tey were cross-bred with native mares andin time, through the process of articialselection, -breds emerged with the abilityto do only one thing well to run veryfast.

Trough the centuries of humantinkering, these horses have developed a

handsome conformation, with narrow heads,lean bodies, and sleek legs. Being cared forby humans all their lives and not havingto contend with conditions in the wild, Toroughbreds are not good survivors. Teirlegs, so slender and elegant, can carry themat speeds averaging sixty kilometers per hour but only for a couple of minutes. Teirlungs are powerful, but the legs, developedto be thin and fast, may snap in the heat ofbattle and down they go, eight hundred toone thousand pounds of expensive horseeshcrashing into the sand, their eyes rollingback in their heads in agony. Some struggleup, valiantly, on three legs, the broken legdangling at a painful angle, still trying tonish the race. It is heartbreaking. It isheartbreaking.

But when they run it is poetry, it is magic. A well-trained racehorse will look forwardto the battle. Horses are herd animalsand run as a pack, but years of humanconditioning have instilled in them the spirit

of competition the urge to compete formates, superiority within the herd, andlebensraum was channeled into the drive torun faster than the others on the track, tocross the wire rst, to win.

Te stables are crucial to racingoperations and the success of the sport.

Te cleaner and more well-maintainedthe stables, the healthier the horses.Considered the showcase facility wasHermie Esguerras, the top horseownerin rankings for many years now. Hetakes a hands-on role in managing hisstables and did the same at Santa AnaPark. He leased a stand-alone facility fortwenty-ve horses that used to belongto the top horseowners before him, such

A small part of the stable area at Santa Ana Park,cats, dogs, and rats lived with horses and humans.


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as Rolly Rojas. Hermie turned it into amodel place, clean and airy, with its own weighing scale and wide viewing box, theglass windows of which gave out onto thetop of the stretch. Other areas were not as well-kept, due to nancial constraints onthe part of their owners.

Humans lived alongside horses in thestables, partly for economic reasons, partlyto be close enough to care properly forthe animals from which they derived theirlivelihood. It was not unusual to see horsescome out of the track gates followed bychildren in school uniforms. In otherracing countries, only grooms are allowedto live on site, since racetrack stables arenot meant to be residential communities.

But at Santa Ana Park, human lives

were so closely linked to horses that theenvironment and practices reected thedepth of this bond.

7: rekta Te track environs

A large part of Makati with itsglittering buildings and air-conditioned malls is considered thecountrys central business district. Yet insome areas of the city, many still pursueagricultural activities in connection withsports and gaming. It shows, perhaps,that there are some Filipinos in the city who are unable to shake off the provincialsoil from their shoes. Maybe it is partof the culture, an echo of our tribal past,that accepts as a norm humans living with animals as part of an intermeshed,interdependent ecology.

Stepping out of Gate Four, one sees theBarangay Carmona Sports Complex rightin front of the gate. Tere was a hexagonalsign right there, made to look exactly likea traffic sign, that said: Caution RaceHorses Crossing. Te day they took downthat sign marked the end of racing inSanta Ana.

ake a right, and AP Reyes divides

into two one way leading to P. DomingoStreet, the PEMCO lightbulb factory,and Havana Bridge, which divides MakatiCity from Manila, and from thence toLamayan and Kalentong,

Te other way leads to H. SantosStreet a cul-de-sac named afterKapitanHermenegildo of PhilippineRevolutionary fame. A few meters fromthe corner is the compound where we

live; a bit further down, the neighborhoodpublic elementary school, where lessonsand elections are held in a cramped yetairy campus in the middle of a packedresidential community. Te street endsat the banks of the Pasig River, whichseparates us and our community from thePandacan oil depot.

At the end of the street, facing the water, there used to be the Ramon

Scratch pens overlook the Pasig River asmall ghting cock farm. o the left are

stalls of the Ramon Balatbat stab


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Balatbat stables on the left. Another setof stables was on the right, leading intothe track in a maze of alleys and narroweasements. Close to the street, on thatproperty, the Metropolitan Associationof Race Horse Owners (MARHO)rented space upon which they had

a room built which for many yearsserved as the office of the oldest suchorganization in the country, founded in1974.

As MARHO manager since 2008,I went ve days a week to that littleoffice for over a year. It was a greatconvenience to walk to work and bethere in three minutes. I was glad notto be cramped in between tall buildings

or decaying apartment houses. Teres

something to be said for cool winds, wide-open spaces, and elbow room, insight of Ayala Avenues gleaming officebuildings, sunlight reecting off thebanks of glass windows.

Beside the MARHO office was alarger room used by veterinarian Rey

Miranda as his surgery. It was wherehe performed minor procedures chipbones, sobrecaa that often afflict

juveniles (two-year-olds) and three- year-olds, those put through theirtoughest training.

Aesthetically, the view at the endof H. Santos Street disappoints. TePasig River is a drab gray, choked withsheets of bright green water plants; the

Pandacan oil tanks are industrial steel

and boring. Once one of them caughtre late at night and we watchedthe conagration safely from acrossthe water, the blue, red, and yellowames leaping up against the dark sky,the thick smoke swirling and made

visible by the res glare. (It was put o

quickly and no one was hurt.) What the river lacks in beauty, it

makes up for with action. ugs andferries pass at regular times throughouthe day. Tis is the new ferry that issuch a boon to travelers going to andfrom Manila. Tey are somewhat slow,the tugs even slower, but the ferries areclean and bravely y the Philippine afrom their masts.

Tere were also gamefowl farms

Dr. Miranda, seated, with white cap; Onofre, standing, with cap; Marvin, standing, shirtless. Te snake is annoyed.


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along H. Santos Street. wo are stil lthere, beside our house, while another isright on the banks of the river. A coupleof others moved to Cavite with thehorses when operations were halted atSanta Ana Park.

One morning, Marvin, the keeper of

the cocks at the riverbank farm, showedoff a Philippine python that he caughtat the back of the pens. Te snake wascaught while attempting to devoura rat as large as a kitten. Placed in asmall cage in the center of the ghtingcocks training arena, the python lookedsulky. Who wouldnt be, interruptedin the middle of breakfast and coopedup in a wire box? It was around ve

and a half feet long and its back borea magnicent pattern of harlequindiamonds in shades of yellow, black,and taupe.

Marvin placed the cage with itsgrumpy occupant in the center of thesmall training sabungan and neighboursgathered around to gawk. Dr. Mirandasaid the python is not poisonous butkills its prey by crushing. Onofre,MARHOs messenger and a part-time waiter at the track, said that a biggerpython, its body as thick around as histhigh, was found last month in the samearea. Our office was just ve metersaway. Could a snake nd its way insideand hide under my desk? Te men said,oh yes, it could. Tey were quite serious.I was apprehensive about the possibilityof nding such deadly beauty entwinedaround my ankles someday, but I wouldnever have traded the excitement ofmy unusual job for a conventional andboring career imprisoned in a Makaticubicle, where the highlight of my day would have been meager lunches f romplastic bags and trips in c laustrophobia-inducing elevators.

Whenever my lower back beganpinging pain signals to my brainfrom hours of being hunched over a

computer keyboard, Id step out of ourlittle office to stretch my legs alongthe river bank. Sometimes Id cross thequiet residential street it was a matterof a couple of meters to the MonBalatbat stables, which had a peacefulriver view cross-hatched by a cyclone

wire fence that broke up the vista intodiamond-shaped chunks that let briskbreezes through.

Whenever Mon, a horseowner andbreeder, would visit the place, he wouldsend for me and wed chat. Hed smokecigarette after cigarette, grinding thebutts into the sawdust scattered on thestable grounds, and Id cajole him, a self-acknowledged tightwad, into spending

for merienda . Hed send his driver Raulto the McDonalds on the corner of

AP Reyes Avenue, and wed eat friesand slurp Coke through plastic strawsand trade the latest karera gossip whileMon ordered his horses brought out oneby one and paraded in f ront of us bygrooms who dgeted while holding thehalters, eager for Mon to be off so theycould return to lounging by the river orstudying the days racing program.

Mon had quality horseesh in hisstables. Some of the horses were his, theothers boarders, whose owners paid hima monthly sum that covered the basicsof stall rent, feeds, and grooms salaries.(Medicines and supplements were extraand to the owners account.)

Since his stable area was opento the sky, unlike most of the thetrackside stables, we could see thehorses much closer and under better

viewing conditions. Te sunlight wouldgleam off the horses backs and anks,throwing the pale brands on theirshoulders in sharp detail. Id amusemyself by trying to identify the brands Aristeo Puyats AP standing for hisParis Match Farm, Hermie EsguerrasHerma Farms and Stud sun-and-

waves, Norberto Quisumbings NQ.

Te horses place of birth is marked with a letter L for Lipa, Batangas, where 90% of the countrys ranchesare located, R for Rosar io, Batangas indicating that it is with thesemunicipalities that the foaling slips,the equivalent of birth certicates,

are archived. Te year of birth andbirth order on the ranch would also beindicated by numerals. For instance,26 on top of 06 means that thishorse was the twenty-sixth born on tharanch in the year 2006.

Life in the neighborhood when thetrack was still around was like livingin the probinsiya, but in the middle ofthe busiest urban area of the country.

Modernity seemed to have passed thisarea by, going straight to a post-modernmodel and its paradigm of progressbeing obsolete. But that would be beinunfair to the vibrant spirit of make-dothat was the communitys norm, its wayof doing things, of raising farm animalfor fun and prot within sight of thetowering skyscrapers of the countrysmost powerful and inuential business

district.

8: meta he end of an era

A F ER 72 years on the site, PRCsracing operations were transferreto a new facility at Naic, Cavite, and thrst race was held there on 6 January2009. Structures at the old track came

down swiftly grandstands, betting windows, paddocks, stables . Everythin was reduced to piles of rubble andstacks of wood.

Te once-vibrant andnoisy neighborhood is quieter. Yes,thats a good thing, but we were usedto the racket the chatter of groomsand their families, the neighing andsnorting of horses, the clatter of hoove


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on the street in the morning, thefaintly-heard voice of the racecallerover the PA system during racemeetings. All gone f rom here, now.

PRC management says that part ofthe property, around four hectares, hasbeen purchased bytaipan Lucio ansgroup, perhaps for an Allied Bank datacenter or some other purpose. Te restof the property, 21 hectares, will alsobe developed in time, into a mixed-useresidential and commercial area muchlike the Rockwell area, also in Makati.Its hard to imagine a Rockwell here, butif it does happen, itll be good for thehood. Property prices will rise. Terellbe jobs and other economic benets.

But I miss the old track. Its where Itrained every morning for two monthsback in 1990 as the countrys rstfemale apprentice jockey. Its where myex-husband asked me on our very rst

Murals still on the wall, barely glimpsed, during the demolition of the track. (March 2009)

date, to marry ve months later. Its where I sunned my babies; its wherethey learned to walk, on the strip of grassbeside the rail, while their father exercisedhorses in the mornings, all of us cominghome smelling of sun and dust and thesweat of horses. Its where I picked upmy career when I had to go back to workafter my marriage faltered.

And I never thought, when I marrieda jockey twenty years ago, that the time

would ever come that I would be ahistorian of this tracks demise.

When a mall or condominium is builthere, right on the track, will the ghostsof gone horses still race, silently, wherethey used to run free? Shall phantasms ofriders and horses, or their manifestationsof psychic energy remaining in the rocks,in the soil, and carried on the breeze, stillrun races until entropy consumes the sunand time runs backward?

Te racetrack that stood here forgenerations, and that some thought

would never be torn down in our lifetimis no more. A rich part of Santa Anashistory has disappeared. Had enoughphotographs been taken? Videos?

Are there still old-timers around whoremember the place when it was stillSampiro, San Pedro de Makati, when theair was cool and you could faintly see,behind the track, the blue shadows of themountains of Rizal in the distance beforethe high-rises rose up to obscure them?

No matter. We will run the races overand over in our heads, and savor thememories of the track in the quiet timesor over raucous kitbitzing with fellowtaga-karera . And wherever fortune takesus and racing, it is at this place, Santa

Ana, at the fringes of Makati and Manila where we still, and always will, take theturn for home.


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and nallySalitang Karera

Aparato. Starting gate. Apprentice. An inexperienced or new rider granted weight allowances; a student rider. Ayuda. Full exertion, usually under whipping.Backstretch. Straight part of track opposite the homestretch.Bandera. Lead or front in a race.

Banderista. A front runner or a horse with early speed; a horse that prefers to run in front rather than come from behind.Barrier. A trial race.Besiro. Yearling (year-old horse).Cinco-octavo. Te 5/8 mile post or 1,000 meters; the bend or turn just before the backstretch.Colt. An unaltered (uncastrated) male horse aged four or less.Dead heat. When two (or more) horses are judged to have reached the nish line simultaneously.Deboka. A sprinter, pacer, or front runner.Deklarado. A horse declared or entered to run in a particular race.Dehado. An underrated racehorse that wins; a non-favorite; a longshot.Deremate. A come-from-behind runner, one that is able to race well at longer distances; a stayer.Divisa. Racing silks or colors identied with a particular owner or stable.Ensayador. An exercise rider.Ensayo. Morning workout or airing intended for conditioning or training.Filly. A female horse aged four or less.Gelding. A castrated male horse.Hinete. A jockey.Huling kurbada. Te nal turn or bend.Hugando. A decisive victory without much urging or undue effort. Judge. A racing official who decided the winners and placers of a race. Juvenile. A two-year old horse.Kurbada. Te bends (curves) of the track, ie, rst bend (unang kurbada), last bend (huling kurbada).Larga. Te start of the race, when the horses jump out of the starting gate.Latigo. Te whip.Likuran. Te backstretch.Llamado. Te favorite in a race.Lucha. Speed duel usually between two horses.May-ari. A racehorse owner.Media milya. Te half-mile post.Meta. Te nish line.Milya. A mile or 1,600 meters.Mola. A Toroughbred.Novato. A new horse, usually a juvenile, that has yet to win a race.Octavo. 1/8 mile or 200 meters; a furlong.Photo-nish. A race too close to call that is decided by the use of a photograph taken by automated cameras at the nish

line.Pista. Te racetrack.Quarto. Fractions of every mile or every 400 meters of the race.Rekta. Te homestretch or last straight run until the nish.Remate. o come from behind.Salida. Te break or start of the race.

Scratch. A declared horse withdrawn from a race.Siete-octavo. 7/8 of a mile or 1,400 meters.Sota. Groom; syce.Sota mayor. Chief or head groom of a stable or ranch.Steward. A racing official who monitors race conduct and control. aya. Bet or wager. Toroughbred. Te particular breed of horse used in Philippine racing. iyempista. Clockers or timekeepers of the races. res-octavo. 3/8 of a mile or 600 meters. res-quarto. of a mile or 1,200 meters.Unang kurbada. Te rst turn that begins on the homestretch; also, clubhouse turn.`Ultimo quarto. Te last quarter of the race.

Documents

The Turn for Home by Jenny Ortuoste