They Shoot Up Horses, Don’t They?

Rocked by this cocaine scandal, Santa Anita race track stepped up its in-barn investigation this week. Federal agents are questioning all suspected users and dealers, in the hope of putting an end to this nagging problem.

This reporter was present at Barns 680, 440 and 220 as Animal Drug Enforcement Agency investigators Haygood and Oates interrogated a number of alleged addicts.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Man O’ War, man.”

“C’mon, c’mon, don’t lie to us or we’ll run you downtown.”

“OK. Ed. My name’s Ed.”

“All right, Ed. Now, where were you on the afternoon of Sunday, Feb. 6, 1989?”

“I went for a walk.”

“Anybody see you take this walk?”

“Yeah. The guy walkin’ me.”

“I see. And at no time that day did you run in a $500,000 stakes race for 4-year-olds at a mile and a quarter?”

“No way. I took a little walk, drank a little water, got brushed and hit the hay, man.”

“Don’t complicate things by lying. Isn’t it true, Ed, that prior to the Charles H. Strub Stakes, you approached the eventual winner, Nasr el Arab, and told him you had some really choice stuff for him if he wanted to run the race in under 2 minutes?”

“That’s a dirty lie.”

“Isn’t it also true that when Nasr el Arab won the race without using your ‘stuff,’ you threatened to see to it personally that he would never be put out to stud?”

“Hey, shovel it somewhere else, pal.”

“Come clean, Ed. A little cocaine every morning in those big nostrils of yours and you feel like you can win the Kentucky Derby, don’t you?”

“Not me, man, not me. A little grass, maybe, but that’s it.”

“Talk fast, Ed. Don’t make us get out the whip.”

“Look. Some guy comes up to me a couple weeks ago, over by the paddock. Says: ‘Pssst. Whoa there, big fella. How’d you like to try something good?’ What the heck, I trotted right over to him and licked his hand. I figured it was sugar.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I swear. Then the guy says, ‘Stick with me, big boy, and I’ll have you winning the daily double tomorrow. I mean both ends of it, man.’ ”

“So what did you do?”

“Hey, I trusted him. You gotta realize, mister, with my natural ability, I was about two more sixth-place finishes away from pulling a hansom cab down 42nd Street. I needed any help I could get.”

“So you got hooked on coke?”

“Coke, speed, aspirin, butazolidin. . . . I lapped up anything I could get. They’d slap on the old feedbag, and, next thing I knew, I’d be dreaming about beating Secretariat by six lengths, or being alone with Winning Colors in a secluded meadow.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I tipped off a few of the others, and before long half the horses in Arcadia were staying up all night and sending out for pizza. We kept the whole barn up singing ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Anita.’ We were out of it, man.”

“How’d you get caught?”

“From behind. This cute little maiden came flirting around, saying she’d like to party. So, I pulled my stash out of the haystack, and next thing I know, she turns out to be two FBI guys in a horse costume. They slap handcuffs and blinders on me and haul me off to the pen.”

“And now?”

“I’m on work-release, man. They let me out on my own recog on weekdays so I can run in, you know, $20,000 claimers and stuff, make a living.”

“Will you testify?”

“Can’t, man. I’m too old to go into some Thoroughbred Relocation Program. I can’t just change my name and go give pony rides at a carnival. Just thinking about it makes me go lame in the knees.”

“So, what’s your plan?”

“I figure while you guys weed out the bad apples, I’ll lay low for a while, maybe do Del Mar for a few weeks, work on my tan. Or maybe check into the Horse With No Name rehab center until I’m fit to trot with decent society.”

“Good for you, boy.”

“Look, I’m not proud of what I did. I took the money and ran. Ran pretty fast, too. The jockey’d be whipping me and I’d be turning my head around and yellin’ ‘Harder! Harder!’ I came spinning out of the turn so crazed one time, I nearly ran into the grandstand. I was more lit up than the tote board.”

“Do you have any advice for younger horses?”

“Yes, I do. To all my little four-legged friends out there, I’d just like to say that you don’t need to put something up your nose to win by one. It doesn’t take snow to win, place or show. If you’ve got a weakness, you won’t win the Preakness. So, stay away from drugs. If you don’t want to end up in the loser’s circle, next time somebody offers you cocaine, just say neigh.”