How do you tell a horse that his two favorite people are gone? That he'll never again prick his ears and listen for the beat-up Celica with the three-legged racehorse hood ornament to come rattling down the street? That he'll never again nicker gleefully at the sight of two wizened faces peering at him over the fence?

Our Blue Michael was trained by Vance Longden and owned by Vance's father, legendary jockey Johnny Longden, for his entire, unspectacular racing career. That in itself is a rarity. Most cheap horses change barns frequently until their mediocrity catches up with them.

Mike, as the Longdens called him, can't possibly understand the poignancy of a son dying before his father, even if the father was 96 and the son was 67. Vance battled throat cancer for 10 years, and finally drew his last breath at Kindred Hospital in El Cajon on Jan. 6.

John Longden, who had been bedridden since last fall, wasn't told of Vance's death until Feb. 13. His wife, Kathy, whispered the words softly into his ear: "It's OK. You can go be with Vance now."

He died the following day, on his 96th birthday.

As for Mike, eventually he might wonder what became of the two great old guys who still came to visit six years after his retirement. But I'm fairly certain he feels lucky to have had them as caretakers for four years. And I'm very certain how lucky I was to have them as mentors, heroes -- and friends.

I met John Longden in 1993, not long after after he had relocated from his palatial estate in Arcadia to the Sun Lakes Retirement Village in Banning. He was 86 and seemed a tad bitter at being uprooted from his home and placed in what he referred to as "some old folks' place" by his youngest son. Longden, who had won the 1943 Triple Crown on Count Fleet 50 years earlier, missed being near Santa Anita.

First-meeting tremors

My first meeting with Vance -- and Mike -- took place on Jan. 17, 1994: The day of the Northridge earthquake. I arrived at Santa Anita at 6:30, a couple of hours after the initial tremor. Mike's stall was empty. I waited for about an hour until Vance finally arrived with the dark bay colt.

"The S.O.B got out and went into the back of the track kitchen," said Vance. "He was eating carnitas when I finally caught him."

As a child, Vance spent summers with his father, traveling the California racing circuit from Del Mar to old Tanforan in San Francisco. Longden eventually helped Vance get an apprenticeship with trainer Bill Molter, and by 23 Vance was training on his own. His first good runner, Kit Carson, broke a leg and had to be destroyed.

"It's the only time I ever saw him cry," said John Longden of his son.

Soon, Vance was employing his father to ride such stars as turf champion St. Vincent and Hollywood Gold Cup winner Royal Serenade. When Longden retired from riding in 1966, , he took out his trainer's license. In 1969, Longden saddled Majestic Prince to win the Kentucky Derby and Preakness, becoming the only man to ride and train Derby winners.

Then there was Mike

As for Mike, the Longdens never mistook him for the second coming of Majestic Prince, or even Kit Carson. Mike won a maiden race at Del Mar, then posted some seconds and thirds. His brush with greatness came in early 1994, when he ran third to 1993 Breeders' Cup Juvenile winner Brocco.

But Mike didn't know he was a cheap horse because, as the only horse in the Longdens' barn, he was getting so much attention. John drove out several times a week from Banning to supervise Mike's training. He taught Mike to stick out his tongue by tapping on his mouth and rewarding him with a peppermint. Eventually, all he had to do was hold his hand up and rub his fingers together.

I spent most of my time at the track hanging out in Vance's barn. I loved watching both Longdens interact with Mike. Sometimes, when Vance ducked in to clean his stall, Mike would grab the back of the trainer's pants and swing him around the stall. Whenever John was around, he imparted a gem that was perfect in its simplicity. Here was his view on excessive whipping: "It's like you're trying to carry a full pail of water as fast as you can without spilling it, but some fool's on your back beating you to go faster."

By 1996, it was clear Mike could no longer compete on the ultra-competitive Southern California circuit. At Del Mar one morning, Vance waved me down as I was driving in.

"Mike's done," he said. "Will you take him?"

In six years, not a week passed without at least one of the Longdens calling to check on Mike, and they often came to visit. I experienced the singular delight of being given a riding lesson by a Hall of Fame jockey. When I was trying to teach Mike to jump, and having difficulty getting him over anything higher than two feet, Longden stood near the jump and waved his cane behind Mike to make him go over it. When Vance thought Mike might be putting on too much weight on a pure alfalfa diet, he brought a bale of Timothy hay for Mike to nosh on.

Vance's cancer ultimately resulted in the loss of his larynx, and he was forced to speak with a voice box. He went in and out of hospitals several times before going in for the last time on opening day of Del Mar last year.

John Longden did not see his son much during his hospitalization. He was sleeping most of the time, and asking about Vance while he was awake. But in August, I received a letter that was dictated by Longden and written by Vance:

Dear Stephanie,

When you are trying to make Mike do something, either make him DO it or don't ask him to do it again. He is so smart he will figure out that he doesn't have to do it.

John

P.S. You can tell me to mind my own business if you like.

The letter is framed and hanging in the barn, next to Mike's only winner's circle photo.

Reach Stephanie Diaz at sports@pe.com.