Marquardt in Japan: A Visit to Hokkaido & Paca Pace, Pt. 1

“Remember lads. It’s chin up and chest out. Because in here, we’re the big boys.” 

Harry Sweeney, the indomitable head of Japan’s Paca Paca Farm, had just offered this advice as we stood huddled, about to enter a public bathhouse, holding nothing but washcloth-sized towels. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I nodded, as did the other two guests of Sweeney’s that were visiting Paca Paca. In we went to the baths, where steam from the heated water rose into the freezing Hokkaido night. 

Later, I came to think of this short exchange as a glimpse into some of the traits that have made Sweeney what he is: a truly unique figure in international racing. Straightforward, sometimes to the point of uneasiness, Sweeney is gregarious, funny, and intense. If not everyone “gets” him, there is near universal respect for what he’s been able to do. Namely, to establish a successful racing and breeding operation in a country that sometimes guards against outside influence through rule and tradition. 

Sweeney, in fact, recalled his first trip to a Japanese bathhouse over two decades before, when he cleared a spa of some 15 locals within minutes of dipping his toe in. But much has changed since Sweeney and his wife Anne moved to Japan in the early 1990s. The country’s group races are now entirely open to foreign horses. Western breeders like Darley have upstart breeding operations here. And horsemen have roundly adopted Western methods of rearing and training Thoroughbreds. 

It’s not an overstatement to suggest that some–and perhaps much–of this change was ushered in by Sweeney’s Paca Paca Farm. 

Following the Japan Cup, Sweeney and his team were kind enough to invite me to stay a few days at Paca Paca, a 400-acre operation situated in the rural seaside hills of southern Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island. I came away with a renewed respect for Japan’s Thoroughbred industry. 

First, a refresher on the history of Paca Paca (which translates roughly as ‘clip clop,’ or the sound a horse’s hooves make). Back in 1990, Sweeney, a native of Ireland who grew up on a cattle farm, was an up-and-coming young veterinarian when he got a call out of the blue about managing a farm in Japan. He immediately ruled out the possibility, but since it meant a first-ever stay in a five-star hotel in Dublin, Sweeney agreed to a meeting. Sweeney quickly changed his tune. He was offered a salary many multiples of what he was making, and soon after, he and his new wife Anne were on a plane to Japan. 

For several years, Sweeney managed Taiki Farm and later Machikane Farm, both on Hokkaido. He learned the Japanese language from books on tape, and led by example that there was a better way to raise horses than the sometimes rough treatment he witnessed. It was a lonely venture. For a long time, the nearest English-speaking person, outside of Anne, was over an hour away. But Sweeney fell in love with Japan and its people, and found it rewarding. 

In 2001, Sweeney decided the time was right to strike out on his own. He targeted a sizeable tract of land in Hokkaido, a little more than an hour away from the three farms owned by the Yoshida family–Teruya’s Shadai Farm, Katsumi’s Northern Farm and Haruya’s Oiwake Farm–which had gained an outsized power and influence based first on the success of Northern Taste, a 10-time champion sire in Japan; and then the game-changing Sunday Silence, himself a 13-time leading sire. 

The process wasn’t simple. Local permits to own land were needed. More difficult, to obtain licenses to breed and race, Sweeney would have to be admitted into the Japan Bloodstock Breeders Association and the Japan Racing Association, which had strict guidelines for minium income and asset holdings. There were reams of paperwork and endless deadlines and delays. In the end, though, Sweeney became the first foreigner to own agricultural land in Japan, and the first to hold breeder and owner licenses. 

The allure of Japan’s breeding industry isn’t hard to fathom. Spurred by huge purses, the sales scene can potentially be lucrative for those with the right stock. Foals still at their mothers’ sides average $339,607 at this year’s JRHA Selected Sale, most without ever being scoped or x-rayed, said Sweeney. (As an interesting aside, successful buyers take possession of their new purchases not when the foals are weaned, but in April of their yearling years. Breeders pay all expenses in the interim and take out insurance–usually 2% of the purchase price–in the case of death or an injury that prevents the horse from racing.) 

Naturally, Paca Paca became a farm of many firsts. Most notably, it became the first Western-owned farm to breed and sell a Japanese Classic winner after the Deep Impact (Jpn) colt Deep Brillante (Jpn) won the G1 Japanese Derby in 2012. Paca Paca also bred the champion juvenile Ampere (Jpn) (Wild Rush), and the Group 1 winner Pink Cameo (Jpn) (French Deputy). Not bad for an operation that currently has a broodmare band of just 40. 

I was aware of most of this when I met Sweeney for the first time. It was early on the Japan Cup undercard at Tokyo Racecourse, and a fellow journalist had generously offered to introduce us, since in a few days I’d be headed up Paca Paca to visit. We went down to the paddock and saw Sweeney across the way as the horses were being led out to the track. Paca Paca had raised the last horse to leave the paddock, Trulli (Jpn), a flashy, energetic gray Kurofune colt debuting in a 1600-meter turf maiden against 15 other newcomers. 

“Do you like his chances?” I asked. 

“Well, he’s the favorite at 4-1 or 5-1, but that doesn’t mean he can run,” said Sweeney. “And really, Kurofune’s probably a dirt sire. But the trainer really likes him.” 

This didn’t sound like a glowing endorsement, so I decided against a trip the window. A mistake, it turned out. Trulli forged to a narrow lead in upper stretch and held on as they flashed under the wire. 

“Alright lads–to the winner’s circle!” Sweeney exclaimed while receiving congratulations from other horsemen around him. 

My colleague and I weren’t sure. “Oh, you’ll be fine,” he said. “Just stay close to me and they won’t give you a hard time.” 

Also with us was Harry’s brother Finbar, who was visiting Harry for the first time in Japan and, amazingly, was attending his first-ever horse race. We rushed down the huge underground tunnel that leads to the trackside winner’s circle, edged past security and other members of the press, and took a spot next to Trulli. I was later told a wide-eyed member of the JRA’s media team was initially horrified when she saw two American journalists seemingly inviting themselves into a win photo. But we stayed close to Sweeney, and indeed, no one else looked at us twice. Tomorrow…Part 2.