For Alfie Carroll, the rise to prominence in Canadian harness racing hasn’t lacked drama. But not even a fractured skull would halt the young man’s drive to become a success. Story by Chris Lomon
May 3, 2014. Flamboro Downs. Race 1. It’s a moment his name will be forever linked to. A life-changing incident Alfie Carroll was determined would not keep him down and out.
Horrific. Stomach-turning. Scary. Tough to watch. Those are just a sample of the reactions that lit up social and mainstream media when Carroll went down in a gruesome accident nearly two years ago, a dramatic in-race spill that sent him crashing to the track, his helmet cracked by the sulky shaft of another driver.
Soon after, Carroll was taken to a local hospital. The diagnosis: bleeding on the brain in three spots, a skull fracture, and three months on the sideline.
“I didn’t see a replay,” said Carroll. “I suppose I could call up the track and ask for a tape if I wanted to, but it has really never crossed my mind.”
The timing of the injury could not have been worse from a professional standpoint.
After years of struggling to make inroads at becoming a top-tier reinsman, Carroll had indeed arrived, racking up wins, driving better than he ever had and heightening his profile in the eyes of significant horsemen.
He bristled at the thought of any interruptions to the momentum he had built.
“Obviously, there were a lot of negatives to come out of the accident,” said the now 30-year-old. “I had finally broken through and everything was going really well, just as you dreamed it would. Then you find out you aren’t going to be able to drive for three months. It’s tough to sit on the sidelines when you can’t be where you want to be and can’t do what you love.”
It’s equally difficult for parents to see their child in pain.
“You don’t ever want to have them deal with that,” said Carroll’s father, Richard, a respected veteran horseman. “The doctors spoke with me, so I understood everything that was going on. Above everything, you just want to be there for your children, to support them in whatever way is needed.”
It wasn’t the physical nature of the injuries that eventually began to wear on the younger Carroll.
Ask athletes that have had to deal with a serious injury and it’s not uncommon that it’s the mental side of the equation they admittedly struggle with.
Carroll was no different.
“Pain-wise, it wasn’t that bad,” he recalled. “I wasn’t out of shape. There would be nights when you’d be up late and things get to you. I didn’t really share that. At night, you tend to think about things more. (Laughing) I suppose you can say I like to complain to myself.
“But I just wanted to get rolling and get back out there,” continued Carroll. “It was tough not to be. I went back after one month and it was too soon. I was reacting to things slower than I usually did and I just wasn’t at the top of my game.”
Richard wasn’t surprised at his son’s rush to return. He also knew he couldn’t hold back the reins on him.
“He wanted to get back,” he remembered. “Part of you wishes he would have waited longer, but another part of you understands that desire to want to race again.”
Eventually, Carroll got his mojo going.
“Of course the accident is in the back of your mind at times,” he admitted. “Horses that aren’t the greatest gaited – you think about it. But, there is also that part of you that says, ‘If it happens, it happens.’ You don’t go out there thinking it will. You do things the way you know how and you drive with that confidence.”
It was Carroll’s mother, Mary, during Alfie’s convalescing, who reminded him of a relative’s story.
“My Uncle Bill was a longtime horseman and he ended up passing away from cancer,” he offered. “I remember having a conversation with my mom and she said to me, ‘He would have rather died on the racetrack than the way he did in the hospital.’”
He didn’t need his mother to finish the thought.
Carroll won 408 races last year to lead all Canadian drivers, and despite his recent rise to prominence, which has also included consecutive Driver of the Year honours at Western Fair in 2014 and 2015, he isn’t the type to be satisfied with his latest triumph.
Through the first six weeks of 2016, he has also climbed the earnings ladder, ranking fourth in the country, with $388,262 in purses (through February 18), just ahead of O’Brien Award winner, Sylvain Filion. Making the feat more impressive, he is the only driver among Canada’s top 10 in earnings who is not a regular on the Woodbine Entertainment circuit.
“I want to be the best at what I do,” he noted. “I’m not saying I’m the best. It’s a very tough business. A big reason for my success is the trainers I get to drive for. They are really the ones that deserve the credit. There is tough competition I face every day, so that keeps me grounded. I have a lot of respect for everyone.”
Well before his ascent to the upper echelon of the driving ranks and years before the accident, Carroll, at times, questioned whether he’d ever break through.
“There are so many good drivers out there that never get the success they deserve,” he said. “Earlier in my career, there were moments where it was frustrating because things weren’t coming along as fast as you wanted them to. If driving wasn’t going to work out, I thought about a job in construction, excavating, or maybe being a mechanic. I never applied for any of those jobs – it never got to that point.”
Richard recalled the time, some 15 years ago, when his then teenage son proposed his preferred career path plan, one that had nothing to do with sitting in the sulky.
“It wasn’t racing early on for Alfie,” he said. “He wanted to be a farmer. We had a piece of land, about 150 acres, for a couple of years back then, and he was in love with all that machinery. Eventually, that all changed for him.”
One thing that Carroll has never had to worry about is unwavering support on the home front.
“I’m just like everyone else in that I think I have the best parents in the world,” he said. “No matter what I did for my career, I know my mom and dad would always be there for me. We don’t always have to say the words to know how we feel about one another. But just the other day, they told me they were proud of me. That means a lot when you hear that.”
Staying on the winning path also means everything to Carroll.
“I’ve always appreciated having the chance to do what I love,” he offered. “That has nothing to do with the accident, in making you appreciate it more. If anything, since that time, you start to put things in perspective a little better.”
Getting shut out in the win column on a card – a rarity for Carroll – isn’t sloughed off quickly, but it’s not belabored either.
“If I don’t win any races, if I have a bad night, I still get to go home,” he reasoned. “If that’s as bad as a night can be, I’ll take that.”
