Dean Pederson has been training horses in California for an eon it seems, but still has a cherub face in compare to the bulk of his colleagues. I believe this is because he never smiles. He is the quintessential ornery trainer right out of central casting. He can hurl a fastball of an insult that knocks you to the dirt before you realize it had even been thrown, or sneak one inside with such sly cutting wit that it doesn't catch you until you're half a shedrow away.
Pederson grew up in southern California, the son of a jockey, and has worked on the backstretch his entire life. Before taking out his trainers license, he groomed for Greg Gilchrist and Terry Knight in northern California. As a young groom working for Gilchrist, he tended to 1981 Del Mar Derby winner Juan Barrera. A mention of this is the closest you'll see him to appearing wistful in the company of horsemen--when his kids swing by the barn is another matter.
This evidence that he's a family man away from the track is a tiny window into a damn big heart he'd never fess up to. Still, it pokes through at times. A jockeys agent once turned down the mount on another horse to ride for Mr. Pederson, having given him the call. The other horse was trained by, as an anonymous commenter once noted, "a huge asshole known for brutal vindictiveness" when it comes to jockeys agents. Naturally, the other trainer banned the agent's riders from his barn. Pederson, with a significantly smaller barn, picked up much of the slack with several live mounts, helping two people make rent that might not have otherwise.
Recently, I personally witnessed another such exhibition of class which doesn't jive with his surly trackside disposition. In the 2nd race last Thursday, a 40k starter allowance route, Pederson ran his filly Clouds of Glory. His filly was clearly fouled, the eventual winner coming out in the lane nearing the wire, costing him and his owners the win. While such assertions are often born of the bitterness of a lost wager, this blogger did not bet the race. Furthermore, I would encourage you to view the head-on via CalRacing.com [3:05 mark, free, subscription required].
When the announcement came that the stewards had made no change to the order of finish, I was livid. I actually left the track in disgust shortly thereafter. Conversely, Pederson did not pout or even offer one of a satchel of olympic grade insults he always has at the ready. No, he congratulated the winning trainer--which is standard operating procedure. But, there's a difference between begrudgingly doing so and the authentic I'm happy for you even if I got fucked squarely in the ass that was closer to Pederson offering (sans profanity), and the begrudging variety is also standard operating procedure. Then, as if caught being cordial, in a stern tone he offered this gem of an admonition: "Now, you take your family out for a fancy dinner tonight. That was a better than a twenty grand pot. I don't want to hear that your wife was slaving over the stove."
