Doug O’Neill’s training title is marred by accusations

From Del Mar — 

Here I’m thinking trainer Doug O’Neill is a great guy, friendly as anyone you might meet, a soft spot for the children’s hospital I know so well, but now they’re telling me he’s a horse murderer and cheater.

It takes a lot for me these days to write about horse racing, but really, who is he?

It’s the final day of racing at Del Mar on Wednesday and O’Neill finishes as the meet’s leading trainer, but of course he does, as some will say, because the California Horse Racing Board is suggesting now he doctors his horses like no one else.

“I swear on my kid’s eyes I don’t,” is O’Neill’s response, and my first thought is now I know what it must feel like to be one of Roger Clemens’ friends.

I want to believe him, almost have to if he really is the great guy I know, but Dr. Rick Arthur, the equine medical director for the California racing board, is making a case to the contrary.

Arthur says every horse is tested before every race for milkshaking, a way to delay the fatigue a horse might feel while running, probably 40,000 tests given over the last two years, and the only horse to exceed set levels is trained by O’Neill.

I don’t know Arthur or the racing industry well enough to know if there are personal agendas or vendettas here at work, O’Neill maybe a victim more than being a cheater.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, Arthur going on to name the top five trainers in the game, not one of them cited for such a violation the last five years.

“Compare that to the present situation,” Arthur says, knowing O’Neill has been cited four times in the last three years.

It’s a damning assault on O’Neill’s reputation, Wednesday a day to celebrate a training title at Del Mar, but instead he’s close to tears.

“I’m fortunate enough that I have some friends who don’t think I’m a cheater; there are a few of them left,” he says. “There’s a cloud overhead, but I’ll celebrate the hard work our team has put in this meet and fight this complaint.”

“A good Catholic boy,” as he describes himself growing up, he’s reminded it’s mortal sin to lie with a hand on top of a reporter’s notebook.

“If I’m doing what they say I’m doing, wouldn’t I do it in a bigger race or with some success?” O’Neill says, the results of a test seemingly black and white, but what happens when common sense trumps the facts?

He ran 136 horses at Del Mar this summer, 31 win, another 40-plus finish second or third, an incredible in-the-money percentage, and none of them tested positive for anything requiring further scrutiny.

The so-called cheating O’Neill horse in question, Argenta, was not only running in a low-level race, but it finished eighth in a field of 10. Hard to believe the horse was given something just so it wouldn’t finish last.

Had the horse won, and keep in mind O’Neill’s horses have earned almost $4 million this year, first place was going to be worth $9,000; O’Neill entitled to take $900. Is he stupid, as well as being a cheater?

“I have a wonderful family, a blessed life, although I could lose some weight and get some hair plugs,” he says. “Am I going to blow it all in a race like this?

“I called my wife, my mother, and I told them, I swear to God we have not done any tampering with these horses.”

O’Neill says he has theories on why his horse failed the test, but it’s horse talk to me and now up to the California racing board to determine if there’s any merit to such possibilities.

“I want to be a positive mover in this game, which I think is on the upswing,” he says. “I don’t understand why something like this, an eighth-place finish in a small race and high test, couldn’t have been in house while not bringing negativity to the sport.”

The publicity, though, works in Arthur’s favor, reminding everyone his pet project that goes back a number of years has seemingly cleaned up the sport, only one positive test the last two years.

“If we’re intent on protecting the betting public, why not use the technology available and scratch horses right away that test high?” O’Neill asks. “Why not make it another handicapping tool for the public and let everyone know the test results?”

If I cared as much about horse racing as he does, maybe it would be worth pursuing, but it doesn’t seem as important as finding out whether I had O’Neill pegged correctly or not.

Whispers of cheating have followed him for some time, but could be easily dismissed because of the nature of the sport. He must be cheating. Why is he so successful, some might think or even say, and I am not?

He’s clearly taken down a peg when he makes the decision to run a horse at Los Alamitos and the horse has to be destroyed, leading to yet another investigation.

He runs Burna Dette opening day at Del Mar for $16,000, moving on to Los Alamitos for $2,000, a pretty good indication there’s something wrong with the horse, or it’s a dog. The horse breaks down, and the message boards become overloaded with fellow trainers torching O’Neill for abusing the animal.

“I’m making calls to check on the rider, because that’s my focus, making sure all his limbs are moving,” O’Neill says, “only to find out it’s become a real dog pile, and I’m a horse murderer. It’s shocking.”

He’s no cheater, no horse murderer, he says and details his thinking, a friend more likely to buy his explanation, while others probably will never get past the failed tests or the fact that Barry Bonds and Clemens swear they’re also telling the truth.

t.j.simers@latimes.com