That Canadians have figured prominently in Jug history is a fact I need not detail. That Canadians have a passion for the Jug that exceeds most, if not all, of the Great White North’s own harness racing events is less well known. It’s more of a gut feeling, really, from seeing the same faces make the annual pilgrimage en masse in the middle of a September work week; from counting the Ontario license plates in the parking lot of Tim Horton’s on Route 23 between Columbus and Delaware.
For me, the first Canadian to be synonymous with Jug lore was trainer John Hayes, Sr. He famously said he’d rather win the Jug than go to heaven and, on the eve of Strike Out’s all-Canadian win in 1972, said he didn’t come to Delaware to run for governor. He came to win the Jug.
In short, he fell hard for the Jug, like countless others before and since. His love and devotion endeared him to the locals, and earned him a spot on the Jug’s Wall of Fame.
The one and only time I ever met Hayes was, fittingly, at the Jug in 1998. I cannot conceive of a more poignant introduction and farewell.
He was 78 and in failing health following a stroke. Hands that once trained some of Canada’s best standardbreds shook noticeably. Legs that were once spread-eagled in a sulky were perched on the footrests of a wheel chair. His son, Dr. John Hayes, Jr., a noted trainer/driver in his own right, fed his father Arrowroot cookies and wiped away the crumbs from his father’s gray mustache. Niatross was visiting the Jug that year, a stop on his North American tour. When the son wheeled his father under the great horse’s head, Hayes, Sr. reached up and blissfully rubbed Niatross’ nose as if he never wanted to stop.
Asked about his Jug memories as he sat next to his son in a grandstand box as Jug Day grew long, Hayes, Sr., a man known in his better days as much for his gruffness as his horse savvy, began to weep.
“I remember it all,” he said, dissolving.
It was his last visit to Delaware. Three months later the other heaven called.