For several weeks before the arrival of of the horse, the sport pages of the papers in Mexico and the Southern States of the US, had been keeping tabs on the champion's six week sea journey. The press who for the most part, were quite quick to write off Australian form, turned out in droves when the horse disembarked in San Francisco on January 15 1932. Much to the delight of many who were there to see him for the first time, Big Red brought his sea legs ashore with him. His clumsiness was all that was needed to write him off as a real chance in the race. After a fortnight's rest, he was then boxed, and sent off on the two day road trip Caliente. Upon his arrival, he was the focus of all attention. The racing hard heads were not so sure about writing him off though. He was massive and he was agile. The first time he hit the track, locals liked the look of him. The ease with which his giant, twenty seven foot stride allowed him to coast over the ground, was enough in itself to impress a good number of people. Held together, his head high, ears pricked, he was an impressive specimen. But doubts were there. To travel 10,000ks by ship and compete against the best was a huge ask. Top top it off, he had to carry the heaviest weight. Bookies opened him at 6-1 in early betting. It didn't last long. Mr. Davis stepped in and smashed it, others then followed the money. In no time flat, he was into 2-1. More money was still to come, but most of that would arrive on race day. From the time Phar Lap arrived at Caliente, Tommy Woodcock had just three weeks to get the horse up to race fitness. Off the dock and to the post, five weeks in total. Woodcock started to pour the work into the champ. After a week, he set Big Red against the clock over the mile. 1.38. The locals were gob smacked. The well wishers were straight onto young man. The horse couldn't win if he did that sort of thing. Woodcock listened politely, but refused the advice. Then came the massive let down. A week out and the horse suffers a cracked fore hoof. From an amazing high, the team now settled into the lowest of lows. The vet didn't think that there was too much hope for the race, but the farrier had other ideas. The two of them got their heads together, and with the owner's blessing, they gave it their best shot. The vet cut away the crack and the farrier fitted specially adapted heavy bar shoes. As they sent the horse out onto the track to check his action, the camp was high on hope, but in truth, they had just about written off the Agua Caliente. The Gods were with them though. Phar Lap's stride was faultless. Race on. More work was pumped into the horse. Then three days before the race, Tommy Woodcock sent his pride and joy out on another searching gallop. It seemed as though the world knew what was about to happen. All eyes were glued on the horse as he quickened approaching the mile pole. His rider gave the horse an inch of rein, and he was away. Down the back straight he thundered, full of the joys of life. Around the bend he scampered and on crossing the line, he stopped the clock in 1.36. Opinions were divided on the merit of the gallop. The faithful, and there were many by now, were convinced that the race was his for the taking. Others thought that his connections had just destroyed his chances, then and there. He'd left it on the track. Come race day, the crowd turned out in droves. The world's richest race was to be enjoyed by a capacity attendance. Everybody who was anyone was there. The great Eddie Arcaro filled a saddle that day. Tom Smith who would later go on to train the wonderful Seabiscuit was in the crowd as was the man who had trained Man o' War, Louis Feustel. Ben Jones who would himself go to train six Kentucky Derby winners was there to watch the race unfold. It was a gala occasion. Tommy Woodcock brought the Red Terror out into the saddling enclosure a full twenty minutes before the race. Then much to the surprise of all, he legged Billy Elliot straight into the saddle. Quick as a flash, the stewards were on him. The top weight was being asked to carry the full 9.3 while he awaited the start time. They wanted the rider off the horse. Woodcock stood his ground. He told the stewards, that this was routine. With the rider up, the horse had a chance to get use to what was on his back. Short of a physical intervention, there was little the officials could do. They backed away from a showdown. As the horses were turned out onto the track, Phar Lap's price was again hammered. He would start the race a pronounced favourite at 6-5. The eleven runners got away as one. But Elliot quickly took hold of Phar Lap and eased him out the back. He settled last. It was only a matter of a couple of furlongs though, before the great horse began to make some ground. As the field swung out of the straight, Billy took the horse via the cape, to give him clear running. With clouds of dust filling the air, they careered down the back straight. The jockey aboard the leader had a quick peep over his shoulder, he was looking for Big Red. Seeing him ten lengths off, he dismissed him as a chance. He turned back to the job at hand. As he did so, Elliot let slip the dogs of war. Phar Lap strode around the field, and in a matter of a couple of furlongs, he raced three lengths clear. Billy put him back on the steel until the reached the straight. With the easing of the pace, Reveille Boy managed to drop off the rest of the chasing pack, and throw down a challenge on straightening. But the Red Terror was not for stopping. Under the incessant urgings of Elliot, Phar Lap again raced away, this time to a convincing win. Such was his win, that he was acclaimed across the US as something right out of the box. He'd stamped himself as the real deal. But just as the racing world sat up and took notice of the deeds of the wonder horse, they were to be robbed of the chance to see more of him. Just fifteen days later, Phar Lap would be dead. His death, horrific.
