Editor’s Note:

Back in the winter, I got a phone call from a very good friend and a trainer who I admire immensely. I looked down and saw the number and the name, and I immediately answered the phone. After all, the call was coming from a man who I have known since he was young and whose words come about as often as Graded Stakes wins.

I knew that it was not a courtesy call, or one to simply catch up on the times of the day.

I knew, instantly, that it was a call that would be full of merit, if not news.

And, it didn’t take me long to hear the pain in the voice and the strain in the chosen words.

My great friend (and former trainer), William “Buff” Bradley had made the difficult decision to retire as a trainer, and he wanted me to be one of the first to know, and not one of the last to hear. He wanted to confess how the past couple of years had been more struggle and strain than passion and compassion. He wanted to walk through how he had come to the most difficult decision in his professional career.

He just wanted to talk.

So, we talked.

Maybe more than we had ever talked before.

Certainly more importantly than we have ever talked before.

We just talked.

And, as the words struggled to find air, I struggled with the memories flooding my heart and soul.

Buff Bradley — a man who is no stranger to great horses and great Grade 1 wins — talked about how difficult it has now become to find and retain horses under his care and shed row. What with the advent of the “Super Trainers,” who now command title and decision-making powers over hundreds of horses in their individual care, the day of the local, self-made trainer with just a barn full of horses is now becoming obsolete.

The big operations always get the first pick of feed, and provisions.

The big operations always get the first pick of veterinarians, advisors and care-givers.

The big operations always get the first pick of the liter on riders and races.

The big operations always get what the big operations want.

And, Buff was not a big operation.

It has been like the Wal-Mart of horse racing has come to rural America. Move over Main Street. So long local jeweler. Goodbye local businessman. See ya, little guy.

“I don’t want to quit,” Buff said, with the pain dripping in every word. “I still wake up every single morning with the same thrill of going to the barn and working with the horses as I ever did. I still love the horses. I still love being around the horses. They have always been the most important thing to me. It’s the only job I really wanted to ever have.

“But I just can’t beat them any more. People just don’t seem to want to have a trainer like me any more.”

Buff Bradley — a man who has trained the likes of millionaires Groupie Doll and Brass Hat — talked about how tough it has come to win races in the Commonwealth and at all of Kentucky’s racetracks. A place where he has plied his trade for generations now. A place where his faithful father gave much of his professional and personal life to build into as good a racing state as it has always been a breeding location.

For the first time in such a long time, Buff stayed at Turfway Park in Northern Kentucky this winter, instead of traveling south for the Winter months. Yet, the pickings were still very slim.

“I don’t mind the competition. Not at all,” said Buff. “But they just have so many numbers that it makes the game awfully hard. It is just tough to beat them.

“The biggest thing to me has always been the health and welfare of the horse. I just love the horses. They have always come first.”

Always.

Just remember the story of Buff and one of his most favorite horses of all time — The Player.

The Player is a horse that Buff’s dad and best friend, Carl Hurst, bred and raced. The Player is a horse that Buff raised from Day One. The Player is a horse that captured the heart; Buff’s heart. The horse would climb up in the tractor when Buff was trying to bush hog the farm. The horse would sit in the paddock just like a dog on his butt. Later, when he got to the track, The Player would crawl out from under his webbing and sleep in the shed row. So much so, that Buff eventually made a cot for him to lay his head.

It was amazing to watch the union of man and horse. After each win. After each Stakes victory. After each normal day at the barn. Best friends.

But the tell-tale story came after The Player was seriously injured in a Stakes race at the Fair Grounds. After the race, veterinarians counseled Buff that the colt may not make it to the clinic for saving. Instead, Buff stayed with the colt until he was stabilized and then travelled with him all the way to the surgery center at LSU — located miles and hours away in Baton Rouge.

A plate and more screws than one can count were inserted into The Player’s leg just to stabilize the injury. A nail was nearly put into Buff’s heart.

Yet, despite the odds, The Player lived on. And, Buff prayed on, too.

For nearly a year, Buff would take every opportunity he could to go visit his favorite horse-son. Sometimes, Buff would jump in his pickup and drive overnight just to spend a day with his horse.

In the end, The Player was able to come home. He got a hero’s welcome. Buff Bradley had negotiated a stallion deal at Crestwood Farm in Lexington and the farm of Pope McLean. Most of the mares the new stallion was to breed, though, came from Buff and his clients.

It was not surprising. Buff has always believed in his horse. Buff has always given everything to his horse.

“He is the story,” Buff often would say. “He gave me everything. I owe it to him to give him everything I have.”

A couple of years ago, I had a home-bred colt that wasn’t much to look at, and didn’t have much of a pedigree to go along with him. I couldn’t afford to send the youngster to Buff, but he carved out a deal that even I couldn’t turn down.

“You have to give him a shot,” Buff would tell me. “You will never know until you give him a chance. I will take him for you.”

We didn’t make much money on Seek N Justice. Zero, if truth be told. Under our tenure, the colt never won a race.

But the colt got good enough in the morning works that a solid barn operation came calling and claimed him after a race at The Fair Grounds. It was more than I could have ever hoped for or gotten in either a private sale or public auction. To be honest, Buff made that happen. Buff alone.

I never will forget it. Buff cared for my little horse like he was a Stakes winner. Even though the colt would never come close to being that.

He was my friend, to be sure. But he was so much more, too. He was the horse’s friend. He was everybody’s friend. He was our game’s best friend.

For years, I would take race fans by Buff’s barn on the backside of Churchill Downs. Every single time, Buff would come out and bring his blue-eyed pony for greets-and-meets. He would allow the children to climb into the saddle and get a tour of the barn area. He would take part of his day to make sure that the children had the best day. He was a great ambassador for our sport and game.

Now, for the first time in such a long, long, long time, Buff Bradley will no longer be at his barn on the backside of Churchill Downs. For the first time in such a long, long, long time, Buff Bradley won’t have a barn. He won’t have any horses. He won’t have a warm place and a warmer smile for all of us who just liked to stop in and chat.

It is a sad day, to be sure.

The game needs so many more Buff Bradleys in the world.

Instead, today, we have found out that we have lost one. And, we can’t afford to lose any of the Buff Bradley’s in this world.

It is a sad day, to be sure.

When our call was done last winter, and we had said all that could and should be said, Buff Bradley asked me not to say or write anything. He told me that he wanted to talk to each of his owners, first. He told me that he wanted to make his peace and say his goodbyes to each of his horses in his care, first. He told me that he had to have some conversations with some people, first.

I told Buff that I would not write or say anything until he was ready to make the announcement.

Unfortunately, Buff has now made the announcement.

I will miss him greatly. This sport will miss him greatly.

More than anything, though, the horses will miss him the greatest.

There was no doubt. He loved the horse.

And, there was no doubt. The horses loved him. Too.

They truly loved him, too.

 

Our looks back at trainer Buff Bradley:

 

Trainer William "Buff" Bradley