The thick of it during a horse race ”“ especially horses strapped to sulkies ”“ defines the phrase “one false move and you’re history,” most of all by removing it from the abstract.
Add rain, a skittish horse, a driver declaring total blindness above the din of the rain (too late to stop the race) and you”™ve got a Yonkers Raceway pileup of man and sulky and horseflesh and that”™s just for starters. Then comes the time-honored, and not for the faint-of-heart, spectacle of completing the race in the slashing rain amid upended vehicles, scrambling drivers and free-range horses.
A most curious way for a member of the bar ”“ two bars, actually: New York and Connecticut ”“ to pass some free time, careening toward such a scene. The headline was about to write itself: Headless lawyer in topless sulky.
“I had pulled so hard on my reins the horse was rearing. I am pulling as hard as I can and I can see the horse”™s hoof is directly above a driver”™s head.”
Jerry F. Kebrdle II advised the driver to roll, though “advise” is probably too soft a word. “And he rolled. And the horse looked back at me. I said, ”˜It”™s your call if you want to race.”™ And we finished the race, with loose horses on the track.” Historically, Kebrdle explained, a horse race is not over until the horses stop racing.
It”™s no wonder Kebrdle has these days drifted from the track to the comparative relaxation of high-and-tight pitches at home plate. It is the horse racing, however, that makes a casual acquaintance sit up and take notice with a “You”™ve got to be kidding.”
A lot of people enjoy the track. Kebrdle, in a move to make Damon Runyon proud, did something about it.
“I raced a handful of times,” said Kebrdle, 42. “I would describe it as a mix of exhilaration with a bit of terror. You really have to lock out the terror or you will get hurt. You also have a tremendous trust in the competence of your fellow drivers. When the starting car pulls away and there”™s the rush for position, the other drivers are only a few inches away. My theory on racing ”“ because you are always a split-second away from death ”“ was the safety of the other drivers came first, then the other horses, then my horse. I was last in line.”
Kebrdle (pronounced kebber-dell) was familiar with horses from growing up in Yonkers. His grandfather worked at Yonkers Raceway and his father, also Jerry, started working at Yonkers Raceway as a pari-mutuel clerk in 1966 and today holds the job title division head, supervising the pari-mutuel clerks.
With two generations behind him, Kebrdle was a natural for the raceway fan base. He went often and then, in a moment from romantic script central, he met Michelle Garcia in 1999 on his grandmother”™s birthday and she, in essence, said, “Take me to Yonkers.” “Michelle immediately loved the track and we would go every Friday night.” At Garcia”™s urging, Kebrdle attended the United States Driving Association school in Ohio.
He passed the exam and, after an apprenticeship of early Saturday mornings mucking stalls and “jogging” horses using an oversized sulky, he entered qualifier races at Yonkers and Monticello. He is certified to drive in “fair races, matinee races, amateur races,” plus qualifiers. (During the rain-soaked wreck at Yonkers, his horse, R.S. Magic, was seeking a qualifying time to proceed in its career. Despite the wreck, R.S. Magic made the time only to break its hip in a freak parking-lot accident a week later; out to pasture, not destroyed.)
Kebrdle is a graduate of Albany Law School. He has a solo White Plains practice specializing in real estate litigation, real estate transactions and criminal and matrimonial law. “I’ve always liked working alone. I concentrate better. There”™s no gossip and no office politics.” He also can control the background music: Elvis Costello, Pearl Jam, Nirvana … and his favorite, Elvis Presley: “An amazing talent.”
After Yonkers”™ grade schools, Kebrdle went to Mount St. Michael High School in the Bronx. He played intercollegiate lacrosse four years as an undergraduate at Manhattanville College, where he majored in political science. He remains active, though these days, having scratched his harness itch, with baseball.
In 2008, Kebrdle ”“ again with Garcia”™s support ”“ attended a baseball fantasy camp in Port St. Lucie, Fla., winter home, as Mets fans know, to their team.
Kebrdle is “a huge Mets fan.” He claims his father held him up to the TV to watch the Amazin”™s take it all in 1969 and further claims clearly to remember the Mets losing in seven to the A”™s in 1973. At camp, he played outfield, caught, pitched and played second base, all with big-league coaches in a complete big-league environment featuring competitive games. “We were at dinner one night and one of the pros came over and asked if he could sit with us. That was pretty cool.”
