Once upon a
time, I raced horses. Harness horses. Quite successfully too, although of
course little guys like I can’t compete against the monoliths of the New
Zealand Harness Racing industry when the big prizes are at stake. It’s crumbs
time. In the end, I suppose my 50-odd wins cost me something like $15-20,000
apiece.
Finally,
the gloss went off the game for me. All the things that were bad about racing
in New Zealand seemed to be getting worse, and the nice things, the sporty
things, the fun things were disappearing. Not to mention new rules, hugely
increasing costs … it was time to go. So I went.
Mother wins at Addington |
Mr B aka Dynamite Paul as a baby |
Then one
day, three months or so back, a horsey gent walking past the greensward where
Mr B was having his usual hoon said ‘wow, who’s that?’ ‘A trotter?’. Er no. A
pacer. But Mr B was trotting. Could he be a trotter? I loved my trotters. There
was only one way to find out. Off to Motukarara with him, to ‘Motukarara
Murray’ Edmonds, who has trained nearly all my trotters.
Today, 15
December, at five years of age, Mr B made his debut at the Banks Peninsula
workouts. A learners’ heat. A pacing learner’s heat. Yes, after all that, Murray
had decided that he cut more meat as a pacer than a trotter, so…
Mr B heads for the track |
Well, like
his mother and his Aunt Agnes, Mr B has a mind of his own. Also, he had never
seen ‘a race’ and wasn’t initially quite sure, I’d say, what he was supposed to
do. What he was NOT supposed to do was rear up at the barrier, and have a fit
at the ‘ping’ of the starting tapes, close by his right ear. What he was NOT
supposed to do was gallop off the mark and end up, in a twinkling, way behind
the field.
But then
things changed. Mr B glid into his gait and set out after the others at a rate
of knots. The gap disappeared in fifty metres as he cruised at an excessive
speed up and right past the opposition, to lead the charge by several lengths.
Now, this
was supposed to be a Learner’s Heat, and you are only allowed to go a certain
speed. Mr B was definitely over the speed limit. So Murray eased up, and the
others gradually gathered in a group behind him. But in the last half mile he
squeezed the accelerator a tad, and all but the trailing horse drifted off the
back. Too fast! Murray let him cruise to the line, and the trailing horse
passing-laned past, with Mr B marginally second. They were precisely 0.5
seconds inside the allowed time. (Sadly, there is no photo, because Mot racecourse has seen fit to plant publicity panels outside the final metres of the track!)
Good boy ... in parts |
Well, he
may have pretty useful speed, but Mr B is still a ‘learner’ as far as race
manners are concerned. He’ll need a good few more similar practice runs before
he becomes a racehorse. But I don’t mind. I actually enjoy workouts more than
races, these days.
Well, here we go again. Last time. Really...!
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