The turf
Trouble and strife
Robin Oakley
Idon't much like swagger in the human race but I adore it in horses. Watching the parade for this year's King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Diamond Stakes you could not have seen a better display. Eight intelligent heads topped eight perfectly prepared bodies.
The gleaming flanks of the Hong Kong bay Indigenous might have been freshly lacquered. Oath may have been smaller than some but he carried himself with a bearing as if to say 'No messing with me, folks, I won the Derby.' Fruits of Love and Silver Patriarch arched their necks with fluid athleticism, obviously confident in their right to be in the all-star line-up as they studied the packed crowds around them under the Ascot limes.
But it was to be Daylami's day and with my money already committed to Fruits Of Love I felt the first prickings of doubt as I watched the Godolphin grey saunter round with the self-regard of a world heavyweight champion. A silk dressing-gown across the shoulders would have been entirely appro- priate for his burly frame.
In the race, as we now know, Daylami murdered the class field. Staying power and a readiness to battle are important qualities in a racehorse. But there is noth- ing so exhilarating as sheer speed. As they entered the last quarter-mile Daylami, who takes about a furlong to wind up to top gear, simply shot away from his rivals. Frankie Dettori told us afterwards, 'Corn- ing into the straight I gave him a crack and the turn of foot was so instantaneous it gave me goose pimples. I went by Gary [Gary Stevens on Nedawi] and he shouted, "Go get 'em Frankie", and the voice was getting fainter and fainter. I was able to enjoy the last 100 yards watching on the big screen how far I was in front.'
So cocky was the horse himself that he gave a buck and a kick on the way to the unsaddling enclosure. Daylami has now proved it all. The five-year-old has won nine of his 18 races in four countries, over distances from a mile to a mile and a half, earning his connections well over £1 mil- lion. But while the horse has done his bit tributes must be paid too to Frankie, the King of Ascot, who found the space and timed his effort to give the best possible chance to a horse not all were convinced would stay. Credit too to Godolphin's race- planning team and the consistent ability of trainer Saeed bin Suroor. They had had the courage to ignore the doubters who urged them to keep Daylami to the ten-furlong Eclipse. No, said the Maktoum team. He has already won that. Instead they pre- pared him specially for the two-furlong longer King George and confirmed his sta- tus as a real all-purpose champion.
Mind you, last Saturday I needed some quality. My wife's interest in racing is on a par with my passion for macrame or the interpretation of ancient Icelandic manuscripts. She sometimes enjoys the company but she is mystified by racing's rit- uals and immune to the attractions of a healthy wager. But last Saturday she had agreed to give it a Real Try.
We had been invited to the elegant lunch which De Beers give to celebrate their stylish sponsorship of what is properly enti- tled the King George VI and Queen Eliza- beth Diamond Stakes and I decided that, having recently moved near to Waterloo, we would risk no motorway steam-ups but go the easy way by train. Never again.
Snag One was that in our part of Ken- nington you see more police cars with their flashing signs than you see taxis with their lights switched on. After 20 minutes inef- fective importuning of stony-faced cabbies we arrived at Waterloo by bus too late for our scheduled train. The next two, we were informed, were cancelled owing to a bro- ken rail at Ashford. We sat for 30 minutes on the one we did eventually board, musing with our sweat-soaked companions how a company which cancels half its trains still cannot find drivers for those which run.
It proved a stop-and-start journey with the train moving puzzlingly in both direc- tions. There were diversions, like counting the number of people who trod on your feet getting in at the various stops and lis- tening to the slick young man three feet away who spent the entire journey on his mobile, arranging in several languages his social life for the next three weekends. And there was the tattoed young lady in cycling shorts, nose rings and not much else.
We arrived, hot and embarrassed, half way through lunch and although there were moments of recovery, like my decision to ignore my wife's instructions and hand over to her a Tote ticket for the first race bear- ing what proved to be the winner's number (that really is gambling), it was mostly downhill from there. My win tips to others in the party finished second and third and Personally, I found the scarecrow more compelling.' we were probably the only people in the party not to have backed the Oppenheimer- owned Valentino, my wife having been assured in the Ladies by one of the horse's connections that it was unlikely to win.
Then came the return journey. At Ascot station we were told we had just missed a train, the continuing troubles would mean there wasn't another for an hour and that the only sensible thing to do was to take a £15 taxi to Staines. We bit the bullet, paid for the taxi, and arrived at Staines 20 min- utes later to be told that the train we might have boarded there had just been sent down to Ascot and would be returning full up with the race crowd. We would be lucky to find even standing room.
Since my wife is recovering painfully from a spirited attempt effectively to break her neck for a second time, this news fell somewhat short of filling us with joy. But sometimes stories do have a happy ending. Even British Rail employs its guardian angels and a Mr Tim Gaskell stepped for- ward not only to arrange a refund on our taxi fare but to supply a chair which was placed in the guards van. Mrs Oakley enjoyed her seat all the way to Waterloo along with a friendly guard who keeps a pet rat called Belly. But she has now been excused racing until next year's Guineas. And next week I will be driving to Good- wood.
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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