The turf
Two of a kind
Robin Oakley
Party conference regulars are much like racing folk. They tend to search out their own kind and huddle with them in a kind of group therapy. They drink too much. They moan that it isn't like it used to be. And though they mutter that if it goes on like this they're going to pack it in, you know full well that they will be back there at the next meeting, because the rituals to which they've become accustomed are just as compelling to them as crochet, brass- rubbing or sticking together matchstick models of Westminster Abbey have become to others.
For a racing man there are two snags about the party conference season: working weekends make it hard to get to the track, and you have to stay in British hotels. My needs are simple: hot water, a working phone and a boiled egg for breakfast. At the Queen's Hotel in Brighton for the TUC my egg was so undercooked that I was able to pour it straight out of its shell. I sent its companion to the kitchen in the charge of a waitress asking for two minutes more. Five minutes later I sent a second waitress in search of both egg and first waitress. Eight minutes after that I had to send a third waitress to hunt for both of them and the by now ancient egg. But perhaps I should not have expected any more from a hotel where my room key broke in the lock, water came through the ceiling and the bathroom lights were on a timer which cut out halfway through my morning shave....
Ever the optimist, at the Majestic in Har- rogate for the Lib Dems I tried again. This time the egg was cooked. It was just that
they were served rolling vigorously around a soup plate. Any chance of an egg cup?' I enquired. They were being washed up, I was informed, and would come shortly. They never did. Sometimes I wonder that we have a tourist industry at all.
I had hoped to spend a few hours at Ascot's Festival of Racing en route between the Lib Dems in Harrogate and Labour in Bournemouth. But the Almighty had decided to water a few gardens. With racing rained off I had to settle for the tele- vision fare from Nottingham and the admirably go-ahead Haydock. The Hay- dock management are highly enterprising when it comes to finding incentives for owners and trainers to send steeplechasers to the Lancashire course. And I thought it admirable the way they had laid on for race-goers and for the TV cameras a demonstration of how you 'scope' a horse to examine for respiratory problems or how you splint an injured one.
There were other compensations. I did not, sadly, have the foresight to have backed John Dunlop's runners in doubles and trebles on the day the Arundel stable amassed a 55,901-1 five-timer. But I did have a few bob on one of them, Badayeer at 10-1. What was irksome though (and, having caught the stopping train to Bournemouth in ignorance that there was a fast one, I was ready to be irked) was that two weeks ago at Goodwood I had had a word of consolation with owner-trainer Brian Gubby after his Easy Dollar had unluckily lost a decent sprint prize. He said the seven-year-old — whose sire Gabitat he still has at home — had been running con- sistently well in good company and deserved a win despite his failure to score a victory since 1995.
Having resolved to watch for his reap- pearance I failed to note his presence in the £20,000 added Geo Adkins Bookmak- ers Handicap at Nottingham and backed Mutamayyaz. Easy Dollar ran on well in the final furlong to collar Mutamayyaz and won at 20-1. The great thing with these old quality sprinters is that if you are patient and watch for them to reach the right point in the handicap and to get the going they like, their turn always comes. And it was good to see the ever-courteous Brian Gubby, who has just 12 horses, win a decent prize, especially as it turns out that at 65 he intends to hand in his licence at the end of the season.
One to note from the Haydock card was John Dunlop's Lammtarra filly Marsha, who showed admirable determination in conditions which didn't suit (truth be told they didn't suit anyone unequipped with a deep-sea trawler) to win the one-mile fillies maiden. Kanaka Creek had looked to have the race sewn up, but she died in the last 100 yards and Jason Weaver conjured a fine effort from the chestnut filly. It wasn't that special a race, but with that kind of courage allied to her fine breeding Marsha must be capable of winning a race or two. I failed to give you Easy Dollar because I ran out of space that week. But watch for Juwwi next time out. Beaten a neck in the five-furlong sprint at Haydock, having missed the break and having had to be switched to make his challenge, he was an unlucky loser.
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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