NEW YORK -- Chip Woolley sometimes looks like he wants to dart out of a room as fast as he can. He fidgets with his welterweight-sized belt buckle, adjusts his 10-gallon black hat, scuffs his cowboy boats on the marble floor and nervously smoothes the mustache that frames his mouth like parentheses. Put the cowboy on the track, training horses and bucking giant odds, and Woolley's as calm as a yogi.
