Plumpton pleasures
Robin Oakley
The Americans do worry so, don't they? In Lambourn the other day an American couple were due to view a cottage for sale. But so alarmed were they by the signs about foot-and-mouth precautions that they drove up and hooted the horn. When the sellers came out, the would-be buyers lowered the car window just an inch, explained that because of the 'danger' they were not interested any more and drove off immediately.
The contrasting British phlegm may have its drawbacks. But one thing that can be said for us is that we never let a little thing like the weather get in the way of our enjoyment. As we walked across from Plumpton station to the racecourse on Saturday a golfing umbrella proved no protection. It was that particular kind of fine, swirling rain that drifts in from every angle. A typically British murk hung over the course. But Mrs Oakley, fresh hairdo notwithstanding, was on her best behaviour. There have been days on grander courses where I have begun to despair of exciting her enthusiasm for the spectacle and the struggle to the line. But not so at Plumpton.
The crowds rolled in, the funfair hummed away in the centre of the course, the hot dogs sizzled and knowing-looking men in Barbours and women with sensible headscarves crowded around the parade ring. Everybody seemed to have a cousin or a son or a brother riding in the next, or at least leading one up. With the point-topoint season cancelled the friendly little Sussex course offered a fusion of the best of that world with racing under Rules and the mood came across.
Typical of the day's racing was the victory of the diminutive amateur rider Dido Harding on the Robert Alner-trained Cardinal Gayle. Cardinal Gayle was plugging on in sixth behind the leaders with his rider just beginning to think she could be in for some place money when three out Prime Course, Hedante and Underley Park all blundered and lost their riders, bringing Newby End to a complete stop in the process. Dido Harding drove past Maidstone Monarch and led over the last. Then when Fortius was rallied by Glenn Tormey and began to catch her on the run-in she was roared on by the crowd, and, I am delighted to say, by a fully committed Mrs Oakley. Said the beaming and breathless (though not for long) Harding as she dismounted, 'He had more left in him than I did.'
The informal Plumpton unsaddling enclosure often seems to me more like the forecourt of a village store with regulars from a wide radius exchanging greetings. Typically of the Plumpton set-up, the owners of Cardinal Gayle call themselves The Wedding Party, being comprised of Dido plus the best man and bridesmaid from her wedding day five years ago. This was Cardinal Gayle's first run over regulation fences for 703 days which was why I got 14-1 on the Tote for a modest investment in what had looked from the start like a bit of a lottery.
That off-course interval was exceeded by Rash Reflection, the winner of the twomile hurdle, who had not been racing for the previous 753 days and who won readily in the hands of Robert Thornton. After his achievement owner-trainer Colin Weedon said that he had been telling everybody not to back the horse, who had suffered leg problems and had not been out since a promising chasing debut over fences at Fontwell two years before. I certainly didn't. But since he started at 8-1 despite that long lay-off somebody must have had a nibble.
Another victory to note was that of the Price family's 12-year-old Dovetto in the handicap chase. Andrew Price, assistant to trainer Cecil, whose first victory of the season this was, said they had been worried the ground was too soft for this half-brother to 1994 Champion Hurdle winner Flakey Dove, but he ploughed through it happily, as did Richard Phillips's Goodtimelady in the conditional jockeys selling hurdle. The owners, Cheltenham Racing Club, bought her back for 5,200 guineas and I don't imagine they will regret doing so. She cost a lot more, apparently, when first coming over from Francois Doumen.
After such a grim season, the day at Plumpton filled me with optimism for the future of the sport, whatever the struggles which lie ahead for British Horseracing Board chairman Peter Savill over media rights and the future financing of racing. Peter, who owns Plumpton, was our host for lunch and with Ruth and the three infant Savills present too his long-term commitment to the sport was plain. Peter is determined to make the betting industry pay an appropriate contribution to the sport and he must be right to concentrate on it being a percentage of turnover. He has been quieter of late but has by no means quit the feather-ruffling business. Few agree with him on everything but he offers racing the crucial quality of leadership. And I simply note the comment of one trainer whom I encountered at Plumpton. By no means an overall fan of Peter's, he declared, 'Without Savill we wouldn't be racing at all at the moment. When he first insisted we carry on through foot and mouth I thought he was wrong. Now I'm sure he was right.'
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