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DAVID LIDBERG: FROM THE SHOW TO HEARTBREAK TO
ADDICTION - Special report by PETE HERRERA David Lidberg had been to the show. He’d ridden winners from Santa Anita to Aqueduct. At 19, he was rubbing silks with Hall of Famers Willie Shoemaker, Mike Smith and Chris McCarron. In a 1983 Life Magazine article that focused on the lives of jockeys at Santa Anita, there’s a full-page photo of the apprentice Lidberg sitting on a tack box, waiting for his next ride at one of America’s most famous ovals. Lidberg had it so good that when he rode in New York, he stayed at Mike Smith’s Long Island home. When Smith headed to Florida for the winter, Lidberg house sat the Smiths’ place. Smith’s only request? Make sure David took Mike’s Porsche out for a drive at least twice a week to keep the engine fresh. ``I had no problem with that,’’ says Lidberg. So what was Lidberg doing two years ago sitting in a prison cell on the outskirts of Los Lunas, N.M.? He was a convicted felon that’s what. A fourth DWI had put David in a mid-life meltdown. Lidberg had run out of second chances. His life, it seemed, was now being defined more by appearances in court than by trips to the winner’s circle. His arrest in Ruidoso in April 2008, followed DWI arrests in previous years in Oklahoma City, California and Texas. Lidberg was sentenced to two years and served one with time off for good behavior. He was released last July and earlier this month went before the New Mexico Racing Commission to seek re-instatement of his jockey’s license. The Racing Commission isn’t quite ready to give Lidberg a fresh start. After hearing from Lidberg and an investigator who looked into Lidberg’s DWI cases, the commission decided to wait until David completes his probation this July before considering giving him a license. So for now, David can only wait and wonder, something he did a lot of during his time behind bars. So what was it like adjusting to life on ``The Farm,’’ the tag frequently used in describing the minimum-security prison where Lidberg had plenty of time to reflect on his past and pray for his future. ``When I first got there I was angry,’’ Lidberg told SureBet during a recent interview at Sunland Park. ``I was mad at the system because I didn’t think I should be there. Then acceptance came into the picture. I reflected the whole 12 months that I was there--humility and being ashamed of where I was. Finally, trying to build my dignity back up and looking forward to getting back to this game.’’ David was born into the game. His dad, Richard, was a jockey, later was the general manager at Centennial Park in Denver and more recently a racing steward. By the time he rode his first race at Ruidoso Downs in the summer of 1982, David was simply following the family tradition. By then, his older brother Mike was an established rider and cousin Glen Murphy’s popularity as a Thoroughbred rider was growing. The only difference between the three was that while Mike Lidberg preferred to stay close to his southern New Mexico roots, Glen and David were willing to take their shots at the bigger tracks. ``Mike was always the one we looked up to,’’ says David. ``He was the first one that made it in this business, before the rest of us got wet.’’ Life was good for the Lidbergs through most of the ‘80s, but things eventually started to unravel for Mike. He fought his weight, went through a rocky marriage and ultimately turned to alcohol. ``Mike was our mentor. We tried to mimic everything he did,’’ says David. ``Then he went astray and it broke all our hearts.’’ Heartbreak arrived in a telephone call. David had just finished riding a filly to victory in the final race at Aqueduct on March 22nd, 1993. ``I got a call in the jock’s room as soon as I walked back in,’’ says David. ``They said `your father called and wants you to call him back.’ I knew it wasn’t going to be a good call.’’ David waited until he had showered and walked outside to his car before calling his father. ``He told me my mother had found Mike blue in the face and dead at his house.’’ David is reluctant to discuss the extent of Mike’s addiction and whether it went beyond alcohol. ``All I know is he was heavily involved in drinking. When it got down to the end, he was completely engulfed. Drinking had taken over his life.’’ David returned home for Mike’s funeral and says his life hasn’t been the same since. The addiction that killed Mike, eventually found its way to David. ``It car-killed me,’’ says David of Mike’s death. ``After Mike died, I found myself trying to cover the pain I guess. I’ve used it as a crutch ever since. It got to the point where if I had a problem, the first thing I’d do is go down one, down two, down three.’’ David suffered a compound fracture of his upper left arm and separated his shoulder in a fall while breezing a horse at Ruidoso Downs in August of 2006. He went through surgery and rehab in Austin, then took a job with the Adena Springs Thoroughbred training center in Ocala, Fla. He went to work for horse racing mogul Frank Stronach, helping to train 2-year-olds. ``I was really lucky to be able to hook into a job with them,’’ says Lidberg. ``I was going to be the guy that worked all of their young horses so they could be ready for the sale.’’ But the physical demands placed on his surgically repaired shoulder and arm by the feisty 2-year-olds and older horses coming off layoffs were too much. ``The pain got to be unbearable,’’ he says. ``With me and my shoulder, it just didn’t last.’’ Six weeks after arriving in Florida, David returned to Ruidoso. Back to familiar territory. Back to a place that would put him behind bars. Heading home after spending the day eating buffalo wings, drinking beer and watching simulcast races at Ruidoso Downs, David crashed his vehicle into a pile of tree branches. He says a deer leaped out of the woods and he had no chance to prevent going off the road. Some of the branches punched holes in David’s radiator. While he was calling AAA, a nearby resident who heard the crash was calling state police. The state policeman got to the scene first. David failed a blood alcohol test. A little over a year later, he was headed to prison. Vince Mares, an investigator for the State Racing Commission, told the governing body he found evidence that David has had seven DWIs. David says three of those never resulted in a conviction. But regardless of the math, the only number that matters to David now is one—as in one more chance. David, who turns 47 next month, says he hasn’t had a drink for three years. At 5-foot-6 and 116 pounds, Lidberg has the prototype jock’s body, one which he says he keeps fit by working out and eating right. ``I’m a yogurt, fruit-eating man. Steak and fish,’’ he says. ``I work out all the time.’’ He feels his shoulder is strong enough now that he can return to riding. He breezed horses at Mike Weatherly’s training center near Santa Teresa prior to the start of the Sunland meet this past winter, but until his probation is up, he is banned from going on the backside or onto a track. David’s parole officer, Joaquin Enriguez, says David has been a good parolee and has met all of his conditions, including testing negative for substance abuse. David was visibly upset when the Racing Commission postponed a decision on renewing his license which expired last August. He can only hope the trainers who have promised him mounts will still be there three or four months from now. ``I’m going to miss more than half of Ruidoso,’’ he says. ``You don’t just slide into Ruidoso with a month left and say, `here I am, five and a half years later.’’’ These days, there’s an old friend and new love in his life. David has reconnected with high school classmate Sherry Overton-Martin and though the two haven’t seen each other in nearly 30 years, they are romantically involved. The two stay in touch through phone calls and letters. Sherry, who lives in Tyler, Texas, helped David deal with his incarceration and says David in turn helped her cope with the death of her brother Brent, who died tragically in the summer of 1996. ``I like to say fate brought us together,’’ says Sherry. Sherry says the couple hopes to finally see each other in July, after his probation is over and, they hope, a new chapter in their lives unfolds. ``He realizes he got himself in that situation,’’ says Sherry, ``but he’s eager to get a new start. He’s a unique human being. A diamond in the rough.’’ |
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