Flame of optimism

It's ten days since I last wrote a chapter of this blog.  We've had one runner since then: Konigin at Southwell one evening in the middle of last week.  Taking a horse to Southwell who is under-performing elsewhere is an act of desperation.  There's the chance that the change of conditions might spark a dramatic revival, but the more likely result is that the horse will be beaten even farther.  You don't go to Southwell unless you're prepared for disappointment.  So the fact that she ran career-endingly badly (she's a well-bred mare who has been placed a few times so can go off and become a broodmare as one couldn't justify prolonging the agony after last week's run) did not stun me too much: I had steeled myself in advance, and even in retrospect it was clearly worth trying out. 

I only have a runner on the Fibresand once every few years as it tends to be very dispiriting: basically, unless your horse wins, it's usually been a dismal day.  The margins tend to be so extended that even having a place-getter is generally quite depressing.  Konigin handled the surface fine and, ridden perfectly by Nicola Currie, she was travelling very easily in the clear outside the leaders coming round the turn, prompting the commentator to observe that 'Konigin has travelled very easily up to this point'.  However, within a hundred yards she was going nowhere.  Her head came up, her stride shortened and she began to back-pedal rapidly.  Horses like her are no good for your sanity or self-esteem!

It shows how far the horses get strung out in staying races at Southwell, the fact that she didn't finish last.  I watched the race from the rail near the winning post, and as she crossed the line I thought that she was last (notwithstanding that there had been several horses a long way adrift and struggling badly turning out of the back straight) as I couldn't see any horses behind her.  Anyway, it turned out that there were still two more struggling slowly up the straight towards the line, so far back that I didn't see them.  We used to have approximate margins (20 lengths, 25 lengths, 30 lengths, 40 lengths, distance ...) but now we have exact ones - unless the margins are 100 or more lengths.  In those cases, they keep the margins to two digits and just call them 99 lengths.  So she was "99 lengths" in front of the second last horse, who himself was "99 lengths" in front of the last.  Like watching paint dry.

The funny thing is that I really enjoyed the evening, aside from how badly Konigin ran (which, of course, was anticipated, so much easier to deal with).  I hadn't been looking forward to going to a Southwell Fibresand winter floodlight night meeting, but it was a pleasure.  As you often find in cities, Southwell looks much nicer at night.  Heading up there early afternoon the traffic was good, and it was good coming home afterwards.  And killing a couple of hours in the canteen was a pleasure: it was warm, the food was good, and I had taken two good books with me: 'Mike Brearley On Cricket' (which I finished) and 'A Season in Sinji' by J. L. Carr (which I then started).

My reading these books stemmed from an excellent evening which I enjoyed with the Norfolk Cricket Society at Horsford Cricket Club (on the northern outskirts of Norwich, just past the airport on the other side of the road) a few weeks ago when Mike Brearley was interviewed on stage by Pat Murphy.  I came home with two excellent (and signed) books: Mike Brearley's book and 'The Test' by Nathan Leamon, which it turns out is an outstanding novel.  The latter was the first of the pair which I read, and I loved it.  This from the dust-jacket hits the nail on the head:-

"... Nathan Leamon's love letter to Test cricket is that rare thing: a novel that captures the feel and flavour of professional sport from the inside - the good, the bad and the surreal.  Not since J. L. Carr's classic A Season in Sinji has there been a novel that quite captures the spirit of the game.  You will never watch cricket the same way again."

That, of course, gave me a task: to track down a copy of 'A Season in Sinji' (which I'm ashamed to say I'd never heard of) and read it after I'd read the other two books.  Anyway, I bought a second-hand paperback copy on Amazon and started reading it at Southwell last week, and finished it yesterday.  It's a superb novel.  I can't sum it up any better than by reproducing this review, quoted on the back of the book, which seemingly must have appeared in the Spectator when it came out (in 1967): "In so far as it is a cricket novel, it is the best I've read.  But it is also a story of exile, and of unhappiness, nastiness and tragedy".  A true classic.

We seem to have a couple of topics rumbling on within the racing world.  Regarding the alterations to the fee structure of apprentices, this is something of minimal relevance to most trainers who have apprentices, simply because in the cases of most apprentices, the employer used to get virtually nothing out of the previous system and will get virtually nothing out of the new one.  So nothing's changed.  There was nothing wrong with the previous system other than the fact that it was not operating correctly, ie some trainers were not paying their share of their apprentices' expenses.  Had they been, there would have been no need for the system to be changed; but as it was, it had to be changed.

My only concern about the new system is that with the potential for making some money if lightning were to strike and and your apprentice did start doing very well having been reduced, trainers might no longer pay their apprentices for work which they aren't doing.  In other words, previously when your apprentice was away from work for all or part of the day to ride for others, you still paid him/her his/her full day's wage as if he/she had been in work all day.  That probably won't happen in the future in some stables.  The other downside, from the apprentices' perspective, is that some trainers might be less inclined to put themselves out to help their proteges' careers to develop - but I wouldn't go overboard on that one because, in practice, most trainers won't change their approach.  You don't help someone because you hope eventually to gain financial advantage by doing so; you help someone (anyone, but particularly one of your own employees) because it is a good thing to do.

The other big topic was the bans for the jockeys who failed to pull up on the home turn in the long-distance handicap steeplechase at Sandown on Saturday.  I feel very sorry for them, particularly because a seven-day ban over the Christmas period is even worse (much worse) than a seven-day ban at pretty much any other time.  But the main reason why I feel sorry for them is that I would have done exactly the same had I been in their position.  There's no way I would have pulled up at that point.  It would have made no sense at all - and it still doesn't make sense that they were asked to pull up, which is the point which nobody seems to have made.

I watched the race.  There was a horrible incident on the turn on the first circuit when Houblon Des Obeaux fell fatally, seemingly having suffered a heart-attack.  As the runners set off on the final circuit, my thoughts were that the ground-staff would have to be quick-thinking to doll off the area where Houblon Des Obeaux lay, which would be feasible but which would need to be done quickly.  It never crossed my mind that anyone would decide to call the race off.  Anyway, when the runners came around, the area was indeed cordoned off.  The Pond Fence was omitted and the runners looked to be waved around the screened-off Houblon Des Obeaux.

Now, put yourself in the jockeys' shoes.  And when you do so, bear in mind that mistakes are frequently made on racecourses by employees and officials, and it is far from certain that things will be got right out on the track.  Just think of the man treading-in mid-race at Ascot the other day.  Think of the many occasions when you see a jockey or a horse in trouble after a pile-up: it is almost always one of the other jockeys who springs into action, almost never one of the fence attendants.  Think how poor the standard of prompt repairs has become: it used to be considered straightforward when a hurdle was damaged for it to be repaired or replaced by the time the field came round again, but nowadays that is hardly ever achieved, the hurdle instead usually being omitted.

If I had been a jockey coming up to that point in that race at Sandown, I would have been aware that there had been a faller in the pack near me on the turn on the previous circuit, and I would have been half-expecting to find an area cordoned off and us to be waved around it.  It wouldn't have crossed my mind that the race might be called off.  When I came to it - at a flat-out gallop, when I and the horse were both at full stretch, physically and mentally, and I had only a second or two to take in what was happening - if I had seen a yellow flag being waved and that there was a perfectly-feasible route for the race to proceed along, I would have made a snap split-second judgement that there was more chance that the flagman had picked up the wrong flag than that the race was actually being (needlessly) called off.

I would have taken the split-second view that if the race was actually (and inexplicibly) being called off, then there would be no harm in my having continued; but that if I pulled up and the race wasn't actually being called off and instead merely someone had grabbed the wrong flag (the more likely option) then I would have made a major c@*k-up by pulling up.  It would have been a no-brainer to carry on.  It would have been irresponsible to have pulled up.  One has a duty to ride to achieve the best possible placing, assuming that the race was still happening, and I would have thought that there was serious doubt about whether the race was actually meant to be being called off.

And I would have crossed the line thankful that I had done so, because what had just happened, ie the horses all bypassing the stricken horse safely, had demonstrated that there had indeed been no reason for the race to be called off, and that it was fair to assume that we had indeed nearly been the victim of a wrong-flag-grabbed incident.  Not so, of course, but then it's easy to be wise after the event.  Things happen very, very quickly in a race, and to punish the jockeys so harshly, as if there had been no extenuating circumstances for their making the wrong choice in a split-second, high-pressure decision when clearly there had been some major extenuating circumstances, strikes me as very harsh.

We have two runners coming up.  Hidden Pearl goes to Chelmsford on Thursday night.  I picked this race out for her weeks ago because I thought that it would be likely to produce a weak field, but even so I'm surprised by just how weak the field is, to the extent that she, with very little to recommend her, is likely, I would imagine, to start second favourite (of five).  Having said that, the horse who I assume will be the odds-on favourite should be close to a certainty.  We'd be significantly better off with him in a handicap so it seemed wise to claim, so we'll use a jockey whom I've never previously used but whom I've seen riding well many times: the excellent Sophie Ralston, claiming 5lb.  And Hidden Pearl is only very small, so I didn't want a big jockey.

I'm now particularly pleased that I've taken the claiming option as the favourite has a 5lb claimer booked (Poppy Bridgwater, another very good rider) so if we hadn't claimed we'd have been carrying the same weight as a horse rated much higher than we are, not even receiving the one slight benefit we should have had, ie the 5lb fillies' allowance.  After Thursday, we should then be heading to Newcastle on Saturday with Das Kapital.  That'll be a long 510-mile day-trip, setting off maybe three hours before dawn and getting home maybe four hours after nightfall.  Quite a commitment to run in an 0-50 race!

It would have made sense as there was a very suitable race for The Rocket Park there too, but he won't be ready to run, unfortunately, which is a real shame as it would have made been much better to be taking two horses.  But we'll go anyway: the next 0-50 race over a trip suitable for Das Kapital isn't until next year, and it would be handy to get a run into him before Christmas.  Fingers crossed Franny Norton will ride, and it's likely to be a weaker race than that one which they nearly won at Yarmouth last time.  It's been a very poor year for us but, as you can see, the flame of optimism still burns inside this particular human breast!