Two days after the habitually suspended Paco Lopez was caught on video nailing a horse twice about the head and neck after a maiden special weight Dec. 3 at Parx Racing, the International Equestrian Federation suspended three-time Olympic gold medalist Charlotte Dujardin for one year because she was caught on video during a coaching session at a private facility repeatedly striking a horse with a whip.
The incident happened either four years ago or 2 1/2 years ago, depending on who you ask, which would put it in the neighborhood of the 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games (postponed until 2021 due to the COVID-19 pandemic), at which Dujardin won two bronze medals in equestrian competition for Great Britain.
At those same Games, during the show jumping round of the modern pentathlon, German equestrian coach Kim Raisner reached over a fence railing and punched a reluctant horse being ridden by competitor Annika Schleu, who was also being urged by Raisner to strike the horse repeatedly with her whip. Raisner was ejected from the Games, placed on probation by the International Modern Pentathlon Union, and required to undergo animal welfare training. Back home, Raisner and Schleu faced a criminal complaint filed by the German Animal Welfare Federation.
The complaint was dismissed. The German prosecutor cited the "exceptional physical and psychological situation" in which the German coach and rider found themselves, further noting that the horse, named Saint Boy, suffered only "short-term" ill effects from the experience and supposedly did not sustain any injuries.
There was a sentiment expressed that the coach and rider had been penalized enough in the court of public opinion. As part of the deal, Raisner and Schleu had to donate a few hundred dollars to a charity, while Raisner's attorney declared, "Our client can continue to call herself innocent."
It takes all kinds. For contrast, in a statement posted this week on Instagram, Charlotte Dujardin wrote, "What happened was completely out of character and does not reflect how I train my horses or coach my pupils, however there is no excuse. I am deeply ashamed and should have set a better example in that moment."
It is not a giant leap to notice the common theme of these assaults was the use of the whip, which continues to be a problem that horse people—from Olympians to Thoroughbred jockeys—can't seem to resolve except to shrug and say, "Whips don't whip horses. People whip horses."
In the wake of the Parx incident, and the predictable social media firestorm that followed, Paco Lopez emerged from his hearing with officials of the Horseracing Integrity and Safety Authority with an indefinite suspension. The duration of the suspension is based on an agreement reached with HISA that requires the 39-year-old veteran to complete an approved counseling program and make "meaningful donations" to the Permanently Disabled Jockeys Fund and New Jersey-based Second Call, the official aftercare program for Monmouth Park. Presumably, it will be more than a few hundred dollars.
"Once HISA is satisfied Lopez has dealt with his issues and is ready to commit himself to prioritizing horse welfare and the safety of his fellow jockeys, we will discuss his eventual return to racing," said HISA CEO Lisa Lazarus in a statement issued after the hearing.
The question for Lazarus, though, hangs in the air. How will she know? How will anyone be able to gauge the sincerity of a jockey whose behavior on the racetrack has indicated that no matter what the severity of the punishment, he always comes back for more.
Here's Lopez in the Fountain of Youth Stakes (G2) at Gulfstream Park March 5, 2022, forcing his way into a space that caused two riders and one horse to fall. He got 14 days for that one.
Here's Lopez in the sixth race at Gulfstream March 22, 2020, pushing two opponents roughly aside while muscling his horse out of a tight spot. Fortunately, no one went down, so he only got five days for that one.
Here's Lopez, at Gulfstream Jan. 31, 2019, blithely shifting into the path of another horse without so much as a glance, causing riders Romero Maragh and Carlos Montalvo to fall. Maragh broke his back and Montalvo broke an ankle. Lopez got a stiff suspension of 30 days for that one because, according to the stewards, "After multiple times of being either reprimanded or fined or suspended, we came to the conclusion that we needed to do more."
And here was Lopez, again at Gulfstream Park just 2 1/2 months later in the 11th race April 14, once again refusing to take his medicine in traffic and shoving his way out of trouble to go on for the win. He was handed an extra-long 60-day suspension for that one, based on "continuous careless riding."
Clearly, more has yet to be enough. Lopez served only half of that 60-day suspension because he agreed to pay the PDJF $10,000 and present himself for community service at Miami's Jackson Memorial Hospital. Jackson Memorial is one of the go-to hospitals when a South Florida rider goes down and does not get up. This reporter paid a melancholy visit to the rehabilitation center there in 1998 to see Linda Hughes, who had suffered a paralyzing fall at Calder Race Course.
The idea that a miscreant can buy their way out of tougher penalties leaves a stale taste. Anyway, jockeys should be tithing to organizations like the PDJF and Second Call on a monthly basis. The horses ridden by Lopez in his 18 years as a professional jockey have earned $152.5 million. Whatever his "meaningful donations" will be, per the HISA agreement, history tells us that they won't be enough to either erase the memory of his assault on his mount, National Law, or discourage Lopez from doing something like that again.
The following statement was attributed to Lopez, who is represented by attorney Drew Mollica. Lopez probably agrees with the sentiment, but if you think he wrote a word of it there's a bridge in Brooklyn for sale:
"I take full responsibility for my actions," the statement reads. "I am aware that our sport is under a lot of scrutiny and I fully apologize to everyone involved in our sport—fans, horsemen, management, racing commissions, HISA, and of course, National Law. My actions were reactionary, in the heat of the moment, and I am truly sorry."
At which point the power of Twitter/X gets a shout-out:
"I have seen the many social media postings, which have led me to reflect on the situation," continued "Lopez." "I have decided to take time away from racing and, in the path of several of my fellow riders, seek appropriate counseling and work on myself."
Again, paging Ms. Lazarus. How will you know?
Vigilantism is never the answer, but you would think by now fellow riders would have had enough and demanded Lopez take his game somewhere far, far away. They have a Jockeys' Guild for advocacy regarding safety issues, and it is clear by now that Lopez, a Guild member, presents as clear and present of a danger as a bad track or a rotted inside rail.
"It's unfortunate, a terrible situation, but I think it has settled down to a certain degree," said Guild president and CEO Terry Meyocks three days after the Parx race. "It shouldn't have happened, but it did, and he took responsibility for it. We're supportive of his statement."
So much for self-policing.
Riding Thoroughbreds in pari-mutuel contests is a difficult, dangerous job that requires a mystical combination of precise skill, peerless courage, and consummate maturity. No one has a right to be a professional jockey. It is a privilege, to be accorded only to those who prove they can handle the responsibility.
The 2-year-old colt National Law exhibited the kind of erratic behavior sometimes displayed by a young horse making only his third start. He won anyway, which for Lopez should have been its own reward, no matter how the horse behaved. Instead, racing got another horror show for the world to scorn. It was winner number 4,038 for Paco Lopez, and maybe it should be his last.
