The turf
A true gentleman
Robin Oakley
Timing, and tying yourself to the right event at the right time, is the secret both in advertising and political campaigning. I for- get which advertising genius it was who was entrusted many years ago with publicising the Horse of the Year Show, an event which it had been decided to stage on a Sunday. Hardly a ticket had been sold. So he rolled up incognito at the Lord's Day Observance Society and demanded that they began protesting about this cruel sac- rilege on a Sabbath. Within days there were protest marches and arrests. Within a week there were questions in the Com- mons ... and within a fortnight the event was a sell-out.
The thought was provoked as I watched the legless two-year-olds slogging through the mud in the first race at Kernpton last Saturday without so much as a whisper of protest from those who had been so vocif- erous about the Grand National a week before.
If the old definition of an optimist was the suicide who jumped off the top of the Empire State Building and was heard shouting `So far, so good' as he passed the 56th floor, then the lonely chap who was trying to sell ice-creams at the Thameside course on Easter Saturday ran him pretty close. It was bitterly cold, It was wet. And the going was bottomless. For the two- year-olds having their first introduction to a racecourse that day it must have been a pretty off-putting experience. So bad was it that the seven debutants took longer to run the five furlongs than the standard time for a six-furlong race.
All credit then to Kevin McAuliffe's Champagne Rider, who, in the tender hands of John Reid, was brought smoothly to lead in the final stages and win going away. He is clearly a toughie. So too, in the nicest way, is his rider, the professional's professional. The popular Reid is one of the true gentlemen of his trade, with a win- ning smile and a good word for everybody. But he gives no quarter out on the track. As a co-president of the Jockeys Associa- tion he has worked tirelessly for safety standards and sensible practices. In the old days, he says, the older jockeys got away with bullying the juniors. 'Out on the course they ruled the roost, though, mind you, you learned a lot in the process.'
When I asked him who his particular chums were in the jockeys' room he declared that there were no sworn enemies and no bosom pals. Such is the cama- raderie of the weighing-room, 'There aren't any that I could spend the night with and not have a good time.' But then there was a moment's reflection and a grin: 'Of course you don't want too many real close friends because sooner or later you're going to upset them out there. It's a very competi- tive sport. We're all friends in here but once you get out there it's war. You can't afford to have enemies or to be doing too many people any favours.'
He didn't do his rivals any favours with the impeccable race he then rode in the Milcars Masaka stakes, coming with a smooth run to cut down the leaders in the last two furlongs, and there should be plen- ty more victories for the 42-year-old free- lance this year.
It is more than 20 years since Reid won his first King George for Fulke Johnson Houghton on Ile de Bourbon and he took the race again last year for Godolphin with Swain. He won a Prix de l'Arc de Triom- phe on Tony Bin and a Derby on Dr Devi- ous, almost his first ride for his regular patron Peter Chapple-Hyam. 'A great little horse who loved to race from the moment they were off. The biggest job with him was to get him to relax.' Few do that better. The enthusiasm is still there and while there are more flamboyant riders than John Reid there are few to match him for consistency, which is why he picks up rides from the likes of Luca Cumani and Michael Stoute.
If Reid was the established star to shine that day we may have seen, too, the first twinkling of a potential star for the future. One of the few tricks which improves the appearance of my betting book is spotting unknown riders while they are real value for their allowance, a practice I began when the young Sandy Barclay was booting home 33-1 shots on obscure Scottish tracks. So make a note of the name of Neil Pol- lard, who rode a peach of a race to bring home that wily old character Ivor's Flutter to win the two-mile marathon for the Mil- cars Queen's Prize.
David Elsworth's nine-year-old has flum- moxed top riders before now. The com- mentators all warned before the race he needed strong handling. But the choirboy- faced 19-year-old from Liverpool coaxed him into running sweetly and brought him tidily home between horses in the finishing straight for his second success from three rides this season.
Trainer David Elsworth said proudly: `He knew where the winning-post was and he never flapped. I've been itching to get a good boy and now I have one.' The 7-lb claimer clearly learned plenty in a year with Jack Berry and two years with Mark John- ston. He has a racing brain and we will hear more of him.
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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