12 DECEMBER 1998, Page 61

The turf

Worthy winner

Robin Oakley

n St Malo last weekend for an Anglo- French summit I was reminded, as I watched the end of the loo roll in my hotel bathroom disappear irretrievably into what turned out to be a locked canister, that we all differ in our expectations of our fellow men. I was only surprised they had not nailed down the loo seats as well in case ignorant visiting British journalists were to use them for firewood or as lifebelts for the unfortunate pigs driven into the harbour by protesting farmers. (French farmers spend so much time protesting it is a wonder they ever have the time to raise or grow any- thing.) My own expectations of the Sandown executive were sufficient to inspire a 3.30 a.m. reveille (British hours) and a frantic dash to Rennes airport for the only plane that would get me back to Britain in time for William Hill Handicap Hurdle Day (or as I prefer to think of it, no offence meant to those worthy sponsors, for Tingle Creek Trophy Day).

You know you are approaching middle age when you remember those honoured in commemorative races as clearly as you do the stars of today, and I will never forget the sight of Tingle Creek, who habitually made it all, pinging those railway fences in the hands of 'Iron Man' Ian Watkinson and later the irrepressible Steve Smith-Eccles. Tingle Creek, who had only one way of rac- ing, never wanted anything more from his jockeys than simple steering. But Watkin- son, who once won the four-mile Oxo National at Warwick with a broken leg in a splint, used to be so keen to ride the trail- blazer that he would cover up any injury. One day at Wetherby he had to be lifted into the saddle in excruciating pain after earlier dislocating his knee, and was later berated by the absent and unknowing train- er Tom Jones for not getting Tingle Creek to the first in the lead.

Smith-Eccles said in his autobiography that, while he might have ridden better horses, partnering the quicksilver Tingle Creek over two miles was a thrill unmatched in steeplechasing.

The worthy winner of Tingle Creek's race this year was the northern-trained Direct Route, and for once I was counting my money from four fences out as Norman Williamson waited to pounce in a fast-run race which played into his hands. I have always thought flat-capped trainer Howard Johnson had style, not least in his choice of training base. How would you feel being listed year after year in racecards in these image-conscious days with the description: J. Howard Johnson, Crook?

The able trainer has not had the best of luck in recent times. His stable has suffered arson attacks, and a savage assault by a steer he was worming which slammed him into a steel post has left him deaf in one ear and suffering from tinnitus. The stable strength is down by a quarter from its high point. But when he has got the goods he can deliver. A year ago on the same card Direct Route won the Henry VIII novices chase and he never looked like being beat- en in the big one this year.

Cheltenham's Queen Mother Champion Chase now beckons. Even with his horse- box driver living up to the horse's name it took Direct Route six hours from his stable to Sandown. Exulting in a bargain return fare of £68, even if the owner wouldn't fork out for the taxi, his trainer was delighted he'd made it from Teesside to Heathrow in 45 minutes. I hope they can do as well for him at Cheltenham.

Before the William Hill Hurdle I encountered Martin Pipe sheltering in Sandown's main betting hall. He was run- ning three in a race he has plundered five times in ten years with 'AP' McCoy riding the 12st topweight Blowing Wind and the somewhat less fashionable Martin Foster and Gerry Supple riding the other two, Out Ranking (already a winner of five races this season) and first-time-out Vent d'Aout. The Nicolashayne trainer thought Venetia Williams's Basketball would win. Since I could not believe that even the Pipe magic would enable Blowing Wind to win with 12st a race that no one has won carrying more than list, I went for each ways on his other two. Out Ranking's third at 14-1 helped defray the day's expenses. The Oak- leys won't have to lock the loo rolls for a week or two yet.

Certainly no one would grudge Glenn `Say ho! ho! ho!' Tormey his victory on Philip Hobbs's Polar Prospect in the William Hill. He was `up for it', as my street-cred conscious son would say. He might have won the same race on Pipe's Make A Stand two years before, but this was Glenn's first winning mount, he told me, in 59 rides. He used to be attached to the Hobbs' yard but this sea- son has turned freelance with Chris Broad `ex-jockey, ex-trainer and present comedi- an' as his agent. Glenn says he will ride for anybody and ride work for anybody. After that he will surely get some takers, not least when they note that the choosy Mar- tin Pipe, with plenty of fashionable names to choose from, put up Tormey on Or Royal in the Tingle Creek race.

While we are thinking of future prospects, put Robert Alner's Bramshaw Wood in your notebook for the long term. He won't be going to Cheltenham this year because his trainer reckons him immature and needing another season before they get serious with him. But he bought him as a three-year-old against his inclinations because he was so impressed with how he schooled. Bramshaw Wood, who had a serious sinus operation back in September, is a natural jumper who springs like an impala. If he is not to be exposed to the big time too soon he could well run up a sequence.

Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.