Wayne S. was the first SuperTrainer that I ever worked for. I knew he was coming for about a week before he got to Charleston and I was intrigued by the fact that all the "old timers" were in awe of him. Their reaction to the mention of his name was one of fear and glee all rolled into one. Fear because they fully expected the kennel to take off the second he hit the compound and glee because the man could party with the best of them. Apparently I had a Rockstar coming to be my boss.
A good trainer is treated like a rockstar at the track. People swarm to buy them drinks and dinner and they hang on to their every word hoping for the next big tip. Women throw themselves at them. They are treated like celebrities. Some of them even have fan clubs. I learned early on to not get involved with a trainer on a personal basis. They have a habit of hiring young girls and passing them from kennel to kennel when they tire of them. Most girls are too dumb to see what's happenning to them too.
I was doing afternoon turnout when up strutted Wayne S. Murray. He looked me up and down as he said, "I hear I got the best help in the compound."
I smiled back, " You do. I hear my dogs are goin' to fly now that you're here."
He just smiled back and said, "that's the goal." He looked the dogs over in the turnout pen taking everything in with just a glance, "You seem to have everything under control. What time's weigh in?"
"Well I've got to go make myself legal. I'll see you then," he said as he walked away. Then he turned and said, "I hear you been a little overworked. As soon as I get settled in we will see about getting you some time off."
I smiled back as I said, "that WOULD be nice. I haven't had a day off in 3 weeks."
"I know," he said, "that's what I hear and we are going to put a stop to that."