“When you’re hot, you’re hot
And when you’re not, you’re not
Put all the money in and let’s roll ’em again
When you’re hot, you’re hot
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, when you’re hot, you’re hot…”

The lyrics to the Chorus to one of Jerry Reed’s most famous songs…

Often times, I am asked why I own a racehorse, or, in my case, a racehorse or two, or, even, perhaps, three.

More often than not, some people ask why I put together a group of grand people and buy horses for the lot to race, too.

For the entire group. For the entire time. For the grand experience.

And, yes…

For the expense and the troubles. For the pain and agony. For all the glory, there is far more gory.

Why do I own a racehorse.

I often ask myself that same, very question — verbatim. And, admittedly, there are times when even I cannot find the right or correct answer.

Unfortunately, for long periods of time, I, too, struggle to find the reasons. Or, for that matter, just one reason or glimmer of sunshine and hope.

Especially when there are no bridges to be found over troubled waters. (Thought I would throw that reference in from Simon and Garfunkel, since we started with a musical theme. LOL.)

It was about two years ago that we first raced our big, strapping and very promising 2-year-old gelding by the name of Courageous Clay — a horse we bravely named after a young boy by the name of Clay Goodwin and whose bravery to just live shall far exceed anything we ever do as a racing group. You see, Clay — the little boy — was stricken at birth with a serious heart defect. Instead of getting to embrace his loving mother and caring father upon arrival, Clay — the little boy —  was whisked away to immediate medical care in an attempt to save his life and help his heart sustain a precious little boy. Clay — the little boy — has since undergone scores of medical procedures, including a heart transplant. He continues to fight the good fight. And, so does his amazing family.

At the time of our “Clay’s” arrival at the track, all the members of the McLean Racing Club were hoping that our horse — Courageous Clay, the horse — could help carry the load and the little boy, too. Along life’s many journeys. Through the thick and the thins. To better days ahead. To brighter tomorrows, to be sure.

In some small way, we were hoping that our Clay — the horse — could be similar to what Cody’s Wish — a two-time Breeders’ Cup winner — had done for little Cody Dorman, of Richmond, KY. A life saver. A life inspiration. I life’s wish.

And, somewhat to our surprise, when Courageous Clay started his race career at little Ellis Park on July 7, 2024 — two longs years ago — our hopes and dreams leaped. With joy for us. With joy for little Clay — the boy — too.

On debut, our Clay ran a very encouraging third — and just behind a horse named Giocoso, who has gone on to become a Graded Stakes winner.

In his second start, on Aug. 5, 2024, our Clay ran a super second — and ahead of Minaret Station, another horse who who go on to become a Graded Stakes winner at Keeneland.

At that point in time, we got an offer for $150,000 to purchase our gelding — who we had purchased privately as a 2YO for a modest sum of $10,000.

Tempting, to say the least, but our group was on a mission. Visions of grandeur danced in our heads. Visions of little Clay — the boy — filled our hearts. And, we were close to embarking on a  race at Kentucky Downs — where the purses soar about as high as a horse owner’s ambitions.

Yep. We rejected the $175,000. Outright.

And, in early September of 2024, our Courageous Clay got his chance at Kentucky Downs. We ran a huge 2nd again, beaten just a length. In return for our runner-up spot, we earned $34,000 in purses.

The vision didn’t dim. We were rocking. We were rolling. Our Clay was on the verge on something special.

Our Clay and little Clay were on the cusp of something important.

Or so we thought.

Over the next six races, our Clay ran 9th, 7th, 3rd, 9th, 8th and 6th.

Over the next six races, our Clay was trounced.

Over the next six races, our Clay struggled just to finish a race in the same zip code as the eventual winner, most of the time.

He finished 2024 in a tailspin.

For the early part of 2025, he was even worse.

Finally, one day, I just got in my car and drove five hours just to go see him. I found him in a stall, without much light. I found him in a stall, without much hope, either. The big strong, imposing horse was gone. Much of his muscle mass was missing. His eyes were dim. His shoulder and hip were missing in action. He just wasn’t anywhere close to the horse that he used to be and the one we hoped to race.

So, I made the decision to move him to a new trainer and an old friend — the amazing, incredible, wonderful, most loving horse trainer ever created. I moved Clay to Louisville and under the roof of trainer Michelle Lovell’s barn at Churchill Downs. I moved Clay from his hell to his own version of heaven.

And, I begged Michelle to work her magic. I asked Michelle to do what she does better than anyone I have ever known. I asked Michelle to fix my horse and make him happy and whole once again.

The turnaround wasn’t immediate, mind you. Far from it. In some small version, I think our Clay was struggling just like his namesake — Clay Goodwin, the little boy. Just to survive.

The last three races in 2025 — and the first three with Michelle on the lead — were not much better.

Clay was swamped at Churchill and blasted at Keeneland. He ran poorly at Turfway, where he had always done well before.

My partners — always the best and most encouraging peeps in the world — were beginning to mumble and groan. Certainly, the $175,000 offer seemed like a pipe dream now. Just an offer of $5,000 seemed unlikely.

It was then that Michelle Lovell made the recommendation of a lifetime for our Clay. When some wanted to dump the horse, she wanted to give him a jump. Michelle and her vets determined that our Clay was suffering from EPM — Equine Protozoal Myeloencephalitis. It is a serious disease that impacts the horse’s brain and spinal cord. It is caused by a parasite. And, it can cause all kinds of physical problems.

So, Michelle thought it best to send Clay to the farm. Treat him for his issues. Give him some serious time off to rest and recover. Give him a chance to reclaim his life and reclaim his body.

After much reflection and some doubts, I agreed. Michelle has an amazing ability to see deeply into a horse, and determine what the horse needs. And, she has a way of convincing owners that she is right more often than not.

I trust Michelle. I trusted Michelle. And, I prayed for Clay. Both of them.

The struggles of life had turned real for both little boy and big horse.

The daily routines that we all take for granted were now very real for both big horse and little boy.

The dreams of normal now were abnormal.

It was not a good time.

Not a good time to be Clay.

Not a good time to be Clay’s support group and parents.

The question arose more than once.

“Why do I own a racehorse? Why? Why in the hell do I own a racehorse? Why?”

The struggles for a right answer were not to be found.

So, Clay got 3 months off.

So, Clay got the long, hard winter off.

And, I got the long, hard winter on a steady diet of doubts.

But one day — one sunny day — near the end of his vacation, Michelle sent me a short video. Clay was in a paddock on a beautiful farm. He was running. He was squealing. He was kicking. He was playing. And, he was looking as good as he was feeling. He looked like a puppy again. He looked happy again. He looked healthy again.

Clay was a miracle in the flesh. His muscles were returning to the same spots they used to occupy. His top line was bigger and stronger. His shoulder more pronounced. His hips were back in motion. He looked so much better.

But the questions remained. Is he ready for the rigors of training again? Is he able to withstand the pressures of the barn life and the meticulous exercises that it takes to return to racing? And, was our group ready to pay the tab for three more months to truly find out?

Three months it took.

Three long months it took.

The first race back — at Churchill Downs — was in a $75,000 Maiden Claiming event. He ran well from nearly last. Thought he could be third. But he was fighting the traffic and the bit.

Back to the drawing board for Michelle. She equipped Clay was some blinkers and a new bit. Rider Danny Sheehy was encouraging. Practices were hard. But progress was made.

The second race back was a scratch, due to a monsoon rainstorm that washed the race off the turf.

Back to the drawing board. More experiments. More practices. More progress.

Until this past Sunday. When it was time to go to Ellis Park — again.

The place where it all began over 2 years ago.

The place where it is hotter than Hades.

The place where the humidity is wetter than the river that runs beside the track.

The place where one of the owners — and his lovely wife — decided to make a trip to visit. The place where my shirt resembled a beach-side towel. The place where sweat was falling like rain.

On Sunday, Clay looked the part. Again.

On Sunday, Clay acted the part. For the first time.

When he made his move and Danny steered him through the traffic on the final turn and I could see his head and face turning up the track, I started to feel the old feelings return.

When I heard Michelle start to cheer and wave her arms, I started to understand why.

When I saw my lovely bride — Leigh Ann — do her little dance, I started to sense why.

When I saw Clay cross that finish line first — for the first time in his troubled, struggled-filled life — I knew exactly why.

I knew why I own a racehorse.

It is the beauty, of course.

It is the thrill, of course.

It is the slaps on the back and the smiles and shakes of hands with friends like Stephen and Gary McIntyre.

It is the hug and embrace with Clay’s first trainer — my adopted son, Stephen Lyster, who helped make Clay so good so early on.

It is the hug and embrace with Michelle — who has sunk heart and soul into the heart and soul of Clay himself and has helped make him whole and helped make him believe.

It is the hug and embrace with Leigh Ann — who suffers with me throughout these long and tough journeys of life.

Most of all, though, it is the hug and embrace with the horse. With Clay. Who looked — stared — into my eyes and soul and said to me, underneath his breath where only I could hear him:

“Thanks for giving me a chance. Thanks for believing. I knew I could do this. I knew I could be the horse you always dreamed of me being. I knew I could do it. See, I did it. We did it.”

Right there in the heat of the day and the heat of the moment, I could hear Clay loud and clear.

I could see Clay clearly now.

When you’re hot, you’re hot.

And, we were hot.