Perfect day
Robin Oakley
Having been carved up brutally at Vauxhall last Saturday by an opentopped Mercedes, I gently indicated a request for better road manners as one does (at least when Mrs Oakley is not there to offer helpful advice) by leaning on the horn, flashing my lights, winding down the window for a few observations on the offending driver’s academic qualifications and gesticulating like a demented conductor. Naturally, I then found myself drawing up at the next traffic lights alongside the Merc, which turned out to be driven by a Mike Tyson lookalike. I was just beginning to imagine myself as a road-rage statistic when Mr Convertible aimed a finger at his own head, smiled beatifically and drove off. Perhaps he was a fan of Bo Diddley’s ‘Road Runner’ which, in Mrs Oakley’s absence, I was playing at the time, but anyway I was the one left feeling a curmudgeon. I knew then it was going to be my day. After 72 hours helping to look after three grandchildren of five and under, an experience roughly akin to three cycles inside an industrial-sized washing machine, I had been released for Epsom’s Bank Holiday fixture. And with an amiable crowd, glorious sunshine and a Frankie Dettori double there can be few more enjoyable racing experiences. Four winners from six bets does not do any harm either.
Two horses impressed me in the parade for the opening maiden, King’s Fantasy and Swan Maiden. Both looked ready to do the business. But I went for Jeremy Noseda’s Swan Maiden because I was struck by the jauntiness of her lad. While some grooms nag their charges round the ring or sullenly jerk their heads, Swan Maiden’s lad Glenroy Brown, who hails from the Caribbean, marched around with a cheerful grin, chewing gum, his braided hair matching his fashionable shades. He had swagger.
In the cool hands of Shane Kelly, Swan Maiden came to take the race smoothly in the final furlong from King’s Fantasy. It was then that Glenroy, informed that he and his charge should proceed from the winning enclosure to the veterinary box for a routine dope test, showed his style, inquiring, ‘Is that for her, or for me?’ The second racer, a claimer, was over six furlongs and Dandy Nicholls had sent along the only sprinter with anything like some decent form. Enough said, and Ian Mongan brought home Only Time Will Tell with a final rattle which extinguished the opposition. ‘He was the best horse in the race. I’d have been pretty disappointed if we hadn’t won,’ said Ian. The only surprising thing was that I got 3–1 against them doing so.
Then came the big one, the Toteexacta Sprint Stakes Handicap over Epsom’s famously fast five furlongs. With Texas Gold, one of this column’s favourites, having recently shown his wellbeing, I looked no further and he obliged in a tight finish at 4–1. ‘Dandy would love him,’ said his delighted trainer Willie Muir. ‘He keeps asking if we’d be willing to sell him.’ He explained that Texas Gold, whom he had bought as a yearling and who was now seven, had not raced until he was nearly four, having run loose and injured himself early in his career. Texas Gold will now be given his chance in Listed and Group races.
Sadly, my Placepot was then ruined by the day’s feature race, the Tompkins and May Amateur Riders Derby, but I could not begrudge the result. In a race which proved to be a triumph for the jumping brigade Bollin Thomas, trained by Richard Allan in the Border country, came home the 33–1 winner in the hands of French amateur Mehdi Lesage.
The Brittany-based winning rider, who had only once ridden in Britain before, over jumps at Stratford, explained that he prefers steeplechasing, having ridden 18 winners over jumps. Richard Allan, who rode briefly over jumps himself and spent years sharing digs with that great horseman Ron Barry, did his time with the late Gordon Richards, looking after such horses as Playlord and Titus Oates.
He had been offered a choice between M. Lesage and a German to ride his horse, whom he only bought a few weeks ago on the recommendation of Peter Easterby. Political correctness was somewhat lacking when he explained, ‘My father was in the North African campaign so I said I would have the Frenchman.’ And, with mediation, what instructions had he given to the rider? ‘I said to tell him not to come back if he doesn’t win.’ As the interpreter’s eyes revolved it seems he did relent and suggest that M. Lesage should keep up with the pace and take his chance when it came, which he did brilliantly.
Only one thing was needed to cap the crowd’s enjoyment and that was a victory for Frankie Dettori, winnerless since he returned from injury. He was cheered in when he brought home Gavroche for local trainer Jim Boyle in the ten-furlong handicap, and the crowd got the expected flying dismount from Britain’s most popular jockey. My, how grey racing can sometimes seem without him. Frankie was relieved to get that return winner under his belt and honest enough to admit that since returning from his collarbone injury he had been getting things wrong. ‘By trying too hard I got myself a silly suspension. I was trying too much to please and I made some silly mistakes. My father gave me a right bollocking last night.’ After that, counselled Stephen Wallis, Epsom’s managing director, Frankie would surely win the next, a race framed to tempt Godolphin to produce a runner and thus lure the crowd-drawing jockey to Epsom for the holiday meeting. Sure enough he did, showing all his old big race assurance to time a perfect challenge on the 7–2 Etesaal and snatch victory on the line. Thank you, Stephen, and Frankie, for a perfect day.
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