My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic--One Last Race.

by Godzilla313

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next day, Spike was up early, earger to get to work on finding our more about Clerkalariet and aid Twilight in her efforts to write a book. After a quick breakfast, he was on his way. He started with the most obvious one, and that was the old one that marked Clerkalariet as the sportspony of the year. However, it didn’t have pictures of him not in his racing slicks, and pretty much told him what he had already knew. He sifted around a bit more, and found the one where he had one the Ducky Derby in record time, and indeed, it dealt with speculations of him winning the Triple Crown that year. This time, it did have photos of him with at least the hood of the racing slicks off, and this pony did cut a handsome figure. The thing was, his mane was cut short, and he looked young. Yet, he did seem familiar, but not so familiar as to be able to place the face with anypony he knew. The next one he found was dealing with the Speak Nice Stakes. This time, there was a photo of him without the slicks, but only had his front half. His coat indeed justified his nickname of Big Red. Sure, he was more of a brownish-red, and not like Big Mac, and he was not quite as big, but was still built. In fact, he was rather cut, and it seemed all the hoof racers were similar in build. In some of the photos from the race, that cut could be seen somewhat despite the silks they all wore, all colorful, and all as such that could help anypony pick out one from the other. There was another photo of him post-race, with one of his trainers hosing him down after the race to cool him off, but his cutie mark was obscured, and if there was any way to identify him, that was prevented yet again. Spike then thought, “Come on, Spike! Twilight must know all of this. You have to find out some personal stuff!”
He dug again and found a copy of “The Sporting Pony News.” It had a close up of Big Red again and said, “Clerkalariet, one-on-one.”
“Yes, that should help!” he said, and started pouring over the article.

Twilight was soon at Mrs. Sweedly’s ranch, and Mrs. Sweedly was there at the gates to meet her, all pleased as punch to meet her. Being the good southern pony she was, she gave Twilight the typical greeting: a big, warm hug. However, the paparazzi that followed her there all looked shocked and horrified at this, all accompanied with the standard gasp that came along with it. You just didn’t hug royalty like that! It was such bad etiquette, or seemingly so, as Twilight said, “Please, everyone, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I think it’s nice she wanted to greet me so warmly.”
This was followed by a wave of photo flashes and scribbling on notepads, some questioning her, but many others amazed that she was at her position, and yet had not lost her common touch. Mrs. Sweedly said, “We were about t’sit down t’some breakfast. Have you eaten, dear?”
Again, the press corps scribbled, Mrs. Sweedly calling Twilight “dear” and Twilight not seeming to mind. Twilight then said, “Actually, I haven’t, and I do appreciate your hospitality. I would he honored.”
With a warm smile, Mrs. Sweedly escorted her in, and the paparazzi tried to follow, but found the gate rudely closed in their faces, the security saying, “Only family and those with invitations can enter. Sorry.”
They all shouted in protest, but there was nothing they could do. Relieved, Twilight said, “Goodness, and thank you: that can be so annoying. I have not gotten used to such attention.”
“Well, y’all get used to it after a while,” she said, “And you learn at some point that shuttin’ them out is not bein’ rude or mean. Most o’ the time, they ain’t out t’write nice things anyway, and the less they know ‘bout yer private life, the better.”
“Really?” said Twilight as she sat to breakfast, “From what I can gather, ponies training with you seem to have that mindset,” not yet mentioning the way that Clark seemed to like his privacy. He was not open to visitors, but was truly enigmatic about much of himself. Perhaps it was Mrs. Sweedly’s influence, and she had to admit that such reasoning did make sense. She would have to remember that, and later ask Princess Celestia and Luna about these matters. However Mrs. Sweedly then said, “Now, what gives y’all that impression, honey?”
“Well, we have a new track coach and phys-ed teacher in Ponyville now,” she answered, “And he said he was trained here, so I figured that what you said must have rubbed off on your students. In fact, he said he had trained with Clerkalariet, and it was because of seeing Clerkalariet’s Triple Crown run on film got me curious to learn more about him. In fact, I am writing a biography about him, and that’s what brought me here.”
“Oh, well, that’s great,” she said, “I can tell ya all about him. However, what is there y’all can learn from me that ain’t already known ‘bout him?”
“Well, that’s just it,” she said, “This new pony told me some things about him, and I figured you could give me some things the books don’t say that can help people know the kind of pony he really was.”
“Ah, I see!” she said, with a big smile, “Then right after we eat, I’ll start with our museum.”
“Great!” answered Twilight, “I love things like that.”
“And don’t y’all worry ‘bout gawkers,” added Mrs. Sweedly, “It’s closed right now so as we can keep down the chaos.”

Later on, they went through the museum, looking at photos, trophies, the history of the sport, the picture of the great Stallion O’ War, who was sire to many greats himself. He had also trained at this school long before Mrs. Sweedly became proprietor. All the way along, she was telling little stories and anecdotes about his childhood and teenage years. In the intimate ways she spoke of him, you had the feel of the matron Mrs. Sweedly was to all her students, she must having felt a surrogate mother to all of them. Soon, the came to a long room that had beds, wall lockers and foot lockers, and gear that was used by the racers that each bed was representing. The first was of Stallion O’ War, and you could indeed see the era of racing in which he raced by the bed, locker, and other such things. On the front bedposts was a plaque with an embossed head of that pony, a few details about that pony, and his career. There were about four triples winners in the stallion department, as to that date, there had only been a total to pull of the triple, and a bunch of near misses, and Mrs. Sweedly wasn’t the only one who trained racers. It was just that this school had some of the more notable ones. In fact, though Stallion O’ War had not won the triple, his son, War General, had himself won, and both had attended the school. Mrs. Sweedly then pointed to the bed next to what War General had used and said, “And this one belonged to his younger brother, Sea Crumpet.”
“Is that the name his father gave him?” asked Twilight, wondering about the unique name.
“Well, not really,” she said, “Racers like t’choose racin’ names t’help out the fans t’know who’s who out there on the track. It was what he chose. However, it’s interestin’ how Sea Crumpet built his legend.”
“Oh this should be good,” she thought, “Knowing about the culture and history will give me a feel of the sport, and help me write an accurate biography.”
Mrs. Sweedly continued, “Now, at first, Sea Crumpet didn’t seem like he’d really amount t’anythin’. His brother won the triple the year before, and when Sea Crumpet was ready fer those races, he didn’t fare so well. Some were even tryin’ t’compare him to his older brother, and said he’d never measure up. His brother even tried encourage him t’get out o’ the game before he embarrassed himself. All that did was spur him on, and he came back to th’school, even though he had already graduated and had his own coach and trainers. He had told the head teacher at that time that he was th’only one who could understand him, and he needed t’find out what was goin’ on. After watchin’ him fer a bit, his coach realized that he was havin’ sumpthin as simple as pacin’ issues, and taught him t’just find a pony t’keep pace with, wait fer his chance, and then use that t’vault himself to th’lead. It was sumpthin so simple, and yet it did the trick. He won his next two races, finished second in the next two, and now wanted t’ prove his bother wrong. He challenged him to a match race. Though his brother was also winnin’ left and right, he felt he could beat him. Yet, the press still wouldn’t give him half a chance. After all, War General had won the triple, and Sea Crumpet was just now gettin’ some kinda stride. Still, Sea Crumpet wanted some closure. He knew that, if he was t’build his own legend, he would have t’make a mark that would get him out from behind both his brother’s, and even his father’s, shadows. His brother got angry, and even begged Sea Crumpet to back off. He was angry, because he feared his brother would hurt himself more than help himself. In other words, he felt he couldn’t win, and didn’t want t’see him hurt more than he had already been. However, the more he begged him off, the more Sea Crumpet insisted. Finally, he just gave in and said to his brother, ‘I still think yer makin’ a big mistake. Y’don’t need this.’ But Sea Crumpet said, ‘I have to. Besides, the family name is at stake, and if I can’t show m’self t’be nearly th’kind a racer you are, I shame father.’ So the race was set.”
“My goodness,” responded Twilight, “I am surprised something like that didn’t split them.”
“Actually,” pondered Mrs. Sweedly, “It was probably th’best thing they coulda done. It would actually end up mendin’ any rifts that were bein’ created, because both would end up earnin’ th’respect of one another. When the race was set, everypony that was anypony packed the park. It was flank t’flank that day. When the signal went, they both tore down th’track. Yet, since War General was th’only other pony there to pace, Sea Crumpet had t’work hard just t’keep up, but keep up he did! Sea Crumpet learned more of a respect for what his brother could do, and War General learned more respect for his brother, realizin’ now that had Sea Crumpet known what t’do the year before, he’d a won the triple himself! Fer three quarters of the race, Sea Crumpet kept his nose right behind and to the inside a his brother’s hind quarters. Then, at the back turn, Sea Crumpet felt his second wind, saw the openin’ and tore off, sayin, ‘So long, Charlie,’ seein’ that his brother had hit a wall. Y’see, War General had been pushed so hard by his brother, he pushed harder than he normally woulda, and lost his own pace, burning out a bit sooner than he normally would have. Sea Crumpet was tired himself, but that adrenaline rush hit him, and there was no stoppin’ him. Sea Crumpet won by a full length. Th’crowd was stunned at first, and then went crazy as they had seen what had t’have been the greatest upset in racin’ history. From that day forward, the boys were inseparable, trained together, and raced together. They truly helped build their legends together.”
“That was such a great story!” said Twilight, “And I never knew what kind of a family affair racing was.”
“Oh, it can be,” answered Mrs. Sweedly led her along, and Twilight was delighted to also find fillies marked, showing about three winners of the lesser known Triple Tiara in races that were exclusively for the girls. However, that did not prohibit the girls from running with the boys, and this was marked by a bed that had been the one used by a filly that went by the name of Acceptable Risk. “Why did she call herself that?” asked Twilight.
“She was indeed a filly who could put th’boys t’shame,” said Mrs. Sweedly, “It was a tremendous honor t’train her. Reminded me of my own racin’ days.”
“Oh, and how did you do in your day?” asked Twilight.
Mrs. Sweedly blushed a bit and said, “Well, modesty prevents me somewhat, but…” and she pointed to a bed that bore her racing name, and showed that she had won the Triple Tiara herself. Not wanting to pry, she asked, “So, what did Risk do?”
“She did better than any filly in the Triple Crown races ever!” she said with confidence, “She won the Ducky Derby, and finished in second in the Speak Nice and Belle Mountain.”
“Has any filly ever won the crown?”
“Sadly, not yet,” answered Mrs. Sweedly, “but we cannot give up hope.”
They then came to a more modern set up and Mrs. Sweedly said, “And I think this one should build your interest.”
Indeed, it was Clerkalariet’s. The plaque read, “Arguably, the greatest racing pony in history, having won the Triple Crown in record time for all three races, and never finishing out of the money save for his first race. Other successes include…” and it went on to mark his triumphs. She took time to look things over, and Mrs. Sweedly said, “It is set up in just the way he always kept his area.”
Hearing that, Twilight began to look closer and closer at it, getting a feel for the kind of pony this Clerkalariet was. Indeed, it showed by how neat and humble his choice of bedding was, the way he kept his lockers and table, that he was not a show off by any stretch. To her, Clerkalariet was as humble was Rainbow Dash was confident. Mrs. Sweedly then said, “And we can go watch them in training as I’ll tell you some interesting stories.”

Spike took detailed notes about Clerkalariet’s life, much of what Mrs. Sweedly was now currently telling Twilight at that moment. However, Yet, in the pictures, there was no indication of just who this pony was. In fact, not only did none of the articles that he had yet read mention his real name versus his racing name, but none of them showed his cutie mark clearly. Spike figured that, if he could find that mark, he could look it up in some encyclopedias and see if he could learn more than the magazines were telling him. At this, Owlowicious flew down to see what Spike was up to, and Spike said, “Oh, hi Owlowicious,” to which Owlowicious cocked his head as if to ask what he was doing. Spike responded by saying, “I’m trying to help Twilight on her book on Clerkalariet.”
“Who,” answered Owlowicious.
“Clerkalariet,” answered Spike.
“Who.”
“Only the greatest hoof racer ever.”
“Who.”
“This guy, right here,” pointing to his picture.
“Who.”
“I just…ugh,” sighed Spike, realizing he was falling for it again. Yet, Owlowicious looked over the table and then ambled over to one of them, tapping it with his beak, and saying, “Who,” again as he did. “Yes,” answered Spike, “That’s who.”
He looked at it, and then saw the headline, “Clerkalariet Mystery: Where Has He Gone?”
Spike saw that as odd and opened it, reading the article. It seemed that there had been much in controversy stirred up about Clerkalariet, and most of it pushed by his arch rival Shemp over all that time. Shemp had never believed that Clerkalariet had ever won anything honest, and pushed over and over again that Clerkalariet had cheated somehow. At first, he was written off as being jealous. Yet, it began to gain legs as time passed and Clerkalariet continued to dominate the sport. Now, he was being pressed more and more to talk. Clerkalariet denied it over and over again, but eventually retired in his prime, citing that the politics was just getting to be too much, and decided to leave. Yet, not long after he did, he seemed to just vanish off the face of Equestria, and that made Shemp accuse even more, claiming he had gotten out before anyone could learn the full truth. Yet, as he went, he turned the page, and his jaw proverbially hit the table!

As they sat in the stands, Mrs. Sweedly was showing her skill as a multitasker by talking to Twilight, telling stories, and tracking the progress of the students. For example, Twilight asked, “So, how did Clerkalariet pick his name?”
“Oh, well, it’s funny, really,” answered Mrs. Sweedly, “After he graduated, he needed a job while waitin’ fer his career t’take off, and he got a job as a clerk in a rope and lariat shop. He changed the spelling a bit, and decided that ‘Clerkalariet’ would be a good play on his humble startin’: Clerkalariet…clerk of lariats.”
They both giggled at his choice as the eldest of the ponies took the track for a ten furlong training race. Mrs. Sweedly then said, “Here is the main reason why I wanted you t’see this.”
She pointed at a black stallion with a shaggy sea blue mane and tail, and for a cutie mark, he had a sea horse with a saddle on it, also done in sea style colors. “He is the best of his class,” stated Mrs. Sweedly, “And the best potential to win the triple as his uncle had done. He has chosen the name of Sea Saddle Stew.”
“That’s an interesting name,” responded Twilight, “I think I can guess why; his mane and tail color and cutie mark.”
“You do have a good eye,” affirmed Mrs. Sweedly, “When you see him run, he flows like water. Watch.”
With that, the bell sounded, and they took off. His strategy, however, was different than most ponies she had yet observed in this sport. He didn’t stay to the back and wait for his move. He made his move right out of the gate! He not only took the lead, but set a pace that the others could chase, but he knew they could not keep up. He indeed flowed and moved smoothly, and was terribly fast. Never once did he relinquish the lead. Mrs. Sweedly then said, “He can actually run faster, and could actually put ‘em all far behind. Yet, he understands two things: if he did that, he’d blow out, and that he’s able t’gauge the ability of the rest of the field. Because of that, he can set the pace that causes th’others t’think they can catch him, but never quite lettin’ them catch up. He then can get in their heads and beat ‘em that way. Because of that, he’s never been concerned about settin’ records. He just wants t’win, and is a master at strategy. So different than his uncle.”
“Uncle, you say,” answered Twilight, “And what’s his real name.”
“Oh, it’s Stewart O’Leary,” she answered off hand.
“Steward…O’Leary?” asked Twilight, “You know, the name of that new teacher is Clark O’Leary. Is there any relation?”
Mrs. Sweedly went stiff, and her eyes went wide. “Who did you say?” she said with surprise in her voice.
“Clark O’Leary,” answered Twilight, “He said he went to this school and knew Clerkalariet.”
After some uncomfortable moments of silence, Mrs. Sweedly said, “He is related. Clark’s father is Stew’s grandfather and his brother’s son. Yet, I don’t get what he meant by went t’school with Clerkalariet.”
Now Twilight was confused, “Hold on, I don’t get it. Was he lying about knowing him?”
“Far from it,” said Mrs. Sweedly, now tearing a bit, “Because, well…”
Mrs. Sweedly seemed to be tearing up from joy, as if she had just learned something good, and it didn’t take Twilight too long to put two and two together. “Wait, are you saying that…”

Spike was going over the article Owlowicious had found, and then came across a full and clear photograph of Clerkalariet, and a mention of his real name. He could just not believe it. “No way!” he uttered in amazement, ironically coming to the same conclusion Twilight was at that very moment, seeming to echo her as he said, “Wait, is this saying…” and then said, “Clark O’Leary IS Clerkalariet?”