.
But we have more
in common than the theatre. There are the horses. Some years on, Barry and I
got into racing. Starting with a little mare named Gwen, we were partners in
several New Zealandish trotters and then an Australian galloper by name
Rosmarino.
Rosmarino turned
out very nicely and won five metropolitan races before retiring to stud. But it
was all getting a bit big and expensive, and eventually I backtracked to my
trotters and Barry to his gallopers. I did well enough. Much fun and nearly 50
wins. But Barry did better. Rosmarino mothered a colt christened Va Pensiero
who won the San Domenico Stakes and the Group 3 Run to the Rose, breaking the
Rosehill track record …
Alas, he
subsequently broke down, so while he went off to be a stallion, Barry dove into
the 2016 Inglis sales catalogue. Two days before the sales, I arrived in Lane
Cove. And, of course, the sales being broadcast integrally on telly, we
watched. I shouldn’t. I’m far too susceptible to a pretty filly.
Well, to cut a
long story very short, I now own a wee share in a beautiful yearling Stratum
filly. After several years of stoutly declaring my exit from the racing game,
after disposing of nearly all my horses … I’m still here.
One of the two
racehorses who still race in my soft-boiled egg silks is little Montmorensy.
‘Monty’ is the second-last son of the now deceased Gwen, a brother to my best ever
trotter, Seppl, and he is named for that brilliant man of music (see youtube)
who has become one of my dearest friends. The wee chap started racing with a
bang, winning at just his third start, aged three, at Marlborough, last year,
but when he came back to Canterbury, racing against the best one-win trotters
in the country, he couldn’t quite cut it. So Murray-his trainer sent him to his
associate, Darryn Simpson, in Dunedin. Dunedin proved more to Monty’s liking,
and after a few fair warm-up runs, he surprised by running second, behind a
classic filly, a couple of weeks ago.
His run obviously
didn’t impress the pundits though. When he lined up, last night, at Forbury
Park he was poorly supported (sixth favourite) and rarely tipped. Except by his
trainer on Harnesslink. Oh, well, I don’t bet. But I was keen that he should
run in the money so that he would have a future. Barry was more positive. He
put a few dollars on him.
As always, Monty
began safely. Sam (Ottley) even got him out fastest before tucking into the
trail behind the rails horse, the favourite, driven by Dex Dunn, the universe’s
champion driver. Ideal pozzie, Sam! They rolled along at a fair rate and, of
course, no one but a crazed, bolting 66-1 shot tried to knock King Dex off his
front spot. Coming into the home straight, his Grace Lightning and, behind him,
wee Monty seemed to have the rest of the field breathing extremely hard. The
two pulled away, and then Sam took Monty to the outside. Monty doesn’t go
‘whoosh’, but neither does he give up, and with Sam working overtime he edged
up … at the post it was close, very close, but he got there!
I was thrilled,
gobsmacked …
And, once again, I
wasn’t there for the victory photograph … well, I guess those days are past.
But apparently my racing, and even winning, days aren’t quite. I suppose when
you are bit, you are bit for life.
PS My career as a
breeder, with Gwen as ‘foundation mare’ has been respectable if not notable.
She had 6 foals, three to race, one to breed, two midgets who qualified but
didn’t race. Of the three racehorses, Seppl won seven, Monty has won two and
D’Arcy, alas, died on the racetrack. All geldings. But the line of Gwen is
continued. Her demon daughter, La Grande-Duchesse, has had seven babes. Three
have raced and all won, and four more (three by Love You, one by Monkey Bones)
are on the way … so the next year will tell! And begin the next generation: her
third child, Duchesse de l’amour is in foal to Pegasus Spur …
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