Ron Moquett - trainer of Champion Sprinter Whitmore
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By Bill Heller
Upon reaching the winner’s circle after the $2 million Gr1 Breeders’ Cup Sprint on November 7th at Keeneland, Laura Moquett hugged her seven-year-old gelding Whitmore, telling him, “You’re a total badass.”
Talking about that moment a week later, she added, “That applies to my husband, too.”
She says that with justifiable pride in both. She is the co-owner, assistant trainer and galloper of Whitmore, who was seeking his first victory in his fourth start in the Breeders’ Cup Sprint.
If there was an equine dictionary and you looked up the word “rogue,” Whitmore’s picture would probably be there. He is the poster horse of bad behavior.
ALL ABOUT MOQUETT
Laura’s 48-year-old husband Ron, co-owner and trainer of Whitmore, has survived three years with atypical sarcoidosis, an autoimmune disease affecting the lungs. Think you were scared about COVID? Ron hasn’t missed a step training his stable of 38 horses. “This ain’t nothing,” he said. “A lot of people got through worse than I got. I get to go to the barn. I get to do my job. I was wearing a mask before it became a fad.”
There’s a third member of this Whitmore team—former jockey Greta Kuntzweiler, now Whitmore’s breeze rider and an assistant trainer. Ron calls her a hippy. Greta laughs when asked about it. “He thinks I’m a hippy because I’m a Democrat,” she said.
Together, the Moquetts and Kuntzweiler reached that remarkable Breeders’ Cup moment when Whitmore won the Sprint by 3 ¼ lengths, thanks to a perfect ride by Irad Ortiz, Jr. Whitmore had peaked as a seven-year-old in his 38th career start—a testament to Ron’s conviction that doing right by the horse allows you to maximize success. Ron defers credit to his horse. “He tells me everything,” Ron said. “Every day. He’s honest, very honest. He’s very forthcoming with information on what he needs.”
That only matters if his trainer listens. Ron has been listening to animals his entire life. At a young age, he preferred the company of animals rather than people.
His mother died when he was four-years-old. “We went from place to place for a while,” he said. “We ended up with our grandparents. I gravitated to animals—any kind of animals. I didn’t care—dogs, cats, horses, chickens. An animal will never lead you astray. An animal is very honest. For whatever reason, they respected me, and I respected them. Without cats, dogs, horses and chickens, I would need a lot of therapy. That’s what I used for therapy. It’s where I got comfort. I like people, but I’d rather be with my animals.”
He built his life with horses. “A horse never lies to you,” he said. “If he’s afraid, he shows it. If he’s hungry, he shows it.”
And if that horse is Whitmore, he’ll kick you to hell if you touch him in the wrong place. Or at the wrong time. Or just for kicks. His specialty was a double-barrel kick. Ron can live with that because Whitmore also has an incredible amount of talent.
Ron was born near Blue Ribbons Downs, a Quarter Horse track in Sallisaw, Okla. Ron pursued his interest in horses at bush tracks. “We used to go on Sundays,” he said. “They would have racing on a 400-yard strip. We’d have big-name riders come in.”
Ron couldn’t get enough. “I worked at the gate,” he said. “I would get the horses ready to run. I’d help the trainers pony horses. My friend rode—that was my first introduction. They were gambling and riding. I just wanted to be with the horses. I thought that was cool as hell. I was probably 13.”
Then came a sobering realization. “There was nobody making money doing this,” he said.
So he began supplementing his income with toughman fighting. “It was kind of like a predecessor to Ultimate Fighting,” he said. “There are three one-minute rounds with 16-ounce gloves. The winner moves on. If you win five or six, you’d get up to a money fight. I did all right from 18 to 24. I didn’t do it all the time. It got to the point where other people were getting better. It got to where I was making money with horses; I didn’t have to do it anymore.”
That happened at Oaklawn Park, where he started training. “I was 22,” Ron said. “I lived in a tack room probably the first six months. That’s no different than a lot of people today. I was nobody special.”
Ron caught a huge break, landing a job working for trainer Bernie Flint. “Bernie was the perfect guy for me,” Ron said. “He allowed me to do everything and taught me a lot about handling different situations. He was always kind to the animals. For a claiming trainer, he was very kind. He’s 6-3, 300 pounds, an ex-cop. Bernie was a natural horseman. I was with him less than two years, and he showed me so much more than if I had gone to a big operation.”
Ron was about as far removed from a big operation as possible when he started his own stable, posting only one second and one third in seven starts in 1997. “How bad do you want it?” Ron asked. “Everybody loves it when you’re doing well with a barn full of great horses. Try doing it whenever you got a barn full of other people’s cast-offs. You don’t have a lot of money to fall back on. Mike Tyson said, `Everybody’s got a plan until you get punched in the face.’”
He had been literally punched in the face when he was a toughman fighting for years. He was able to abandon his second career when his numbers improved in his first full year of training in 1998 with five victories from 82 starters and $80,354 in earnings. In 1999, he had 12 wins from 141 starts with $259,385 in money. He was on his way.
“I just wanted it too bad to not keep doing it,” Ron said. “How are you going to make it? First, you have to have a love for the animal. Second, you have to have a hatred of money, because you’re not going to get it for a long time. I’ve been doing this for 20-something years, and I finally wound up winning a couple of them. The third thing is you got to be where you don’t require sleep. If you don’t love money, and you love horses, and you don’t sleep, then you’ve got a shot at becoming a trainer. It’s so hard. The game is frustrating and so hard.”
Having a partner helps navigate the tough times, and Ron has a 24-7 partner in Laura. Raised in Lawton, a small town in Iowa, she discovered her passion for horses as a child “I had my own horses at my house,” she said. “I was 16 when I started galloping. There’s a different way to look at the world through their eyes. I speak horse. It’s like a second language. They communicate with you through their body language.”
Ron was working for Bernie Flint when Laura got a job with him. She saw a kindred spirit. “He cares about horses,” she said. “He’s not in a hurry. He cares to get to the bottom. A team aspect comes into play.”
They married. “Roughly, it was in 2014,” Laura said. “I’m guessing. We’re both terrible about the anniversary.”
Breeze rider and assistant trainer Greta Kuntzweiler with Whitmore.
They weren’t too good at weddings either. They both arrived late separately for their ceremony. “We kind of live in the moment, which is great for horses,” Laura said.
Having a talented exercise rider is great for horses, too, and they have one in Greta, who won 555 races and $12,248,599 before stopping in 2015. “My business was slowing down, and Ron asked me if I would break and gallop,” she said. “Then Laura began teaching me assistant trainer stuff. It’s a great job. I love horses. I’m happy.”
She, too, was impressed with Ron’s horsemanship. “He’s a really smart guy with a good memory,” Greta said. “He can remember a horse. When he watches training in the morning, he knows his horses and other people’s horses. It’s a huge advantage. He’s a really good horseman.
“He likes to get horses, walk them around the shed row and take them to graze, and try to get into their heads. He wants to spend time with them. I’ve seen him load difficult horses on a trailer. He knows how to ask them to do something they don’t want to do. His wife is really good at that, too. They’re great horse people that I want to be around.”
But suddenly, in the spring of 2018, there was a question if Ron could ever be around his horses. He was diagnosed with atypical sarcoidosis. “What happens is, it attacks your lungs,” Ron said. “My breathing is compromised by one lung, which is working at 40 percent. But I feel great now, between active spurts. I have to be very careful with the COVID. If somebody with my condition gets it, then it’s a big deal.”
For a while, he worked exclusively from home. Now he trains partially from home, subject to the pandemic numbers. “That takes a lot of up-to-the-minute tedious information,” he said. “I get a text from the night watchman at 4 a.m. on how everyone ate and if they’re doing all right. I get leg charts. My assistants tell me how the horses feel after racing. I get charts rating horses’ works, 1, 2 or 3. If there is a checkmark on the rider, it means there’s something I need to talk to him about.
“I’m able to go to the barn, just not be around people. I check legs. There’s nothing like hands-on. You have to have horsemen at every station with hands-on. I want a groom who knows the difference. And my exercise riders know the difference. We figured out how to get everything done.”
Asked if it gets wearing, Ron said, “It seems like I’ve been doing it forever.”
ALL ABOUT WHITMORE
Whitmore challenged him before he got sick. The son of Pleasantly Perfect out of Melody’s Spirit by Scat Daddy was bred by John Liviakis in Kentucky. Liviakis sold Whitmore to the Moquetts’ Southern Spring Stables.
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