The turf
Looking good
Robin Oakley
Sullen skies and a persistent downpour over Epsom made Saturday one of those days you should have spent doing those things you always meant to do, like master- ing the video instruction book, filling in the tax return and learning the words of 'Land Of Hope And Glory'. So, naturally, I set off for Newmarket. It rained all the way to Six Mile Bottom and then suddenly there were powder-puff clouds, blue skies and spine-loosening sunshine. Sometimes for- tune favours the foolish.
A fiver invested in raffle tickets for the Animal Health Trust netted me a nearly drinkable bottle of Vin du Pays d'Oc and when Teddy Davis, whose Dom Ruinart champagne firm was sponsoring the first race, invited me along to try their new rose, I knew it was going to be a good day.
Rule one in handicaps is to look down the trainers' list for the names of Reg Ake- hurst or Luca Cumani. Luca's Prima Verde had only won a Beverley maiden previous- ly, but she did so by eight lengths and was said to like cut in the ground, so that was good enough for me to make a reasonable investment. Even if I had taken 9-4 when she started at 5-2, so it proved. Frankie Dettori kept his cool when forced to dis- pute territory with a loose horse whose jockey Neil Varley had been unshipped early on. He challenged smoothly in the last furlong and she won like a favourite should. 'I was riding two horses,' he told the owners on dismounting.
`Shall we talk politics or racing?' asked Luca. For fear that it might be Italian poli- tics which Newmarket's most elegant train- er had in mind, I opted for racing. He and her owners have had to be patient with the four-year-old Prima Verde, who has had her problems. But she looks to be a nice sort who will win more races. 'One step at a time,' said Luca, who expects her to rise 61b or so for that win. And she will keep to handicap company.
Proceedings had opened on the July course with a race for pure-bred Arabs, the horses that is, not their owners. It was the first time Arabs had raced on a thorough- bred card at Newmarket for over 100 years. I knew little about Arab racing other than that Gill Duffield, wife of jockey George, is one of the leading trainers of these sleek little beasts and that former jump-jockey Bill Smith is another. I decid- ed to go on looks in the parade ring and preferred Gill Duffield's Fairton, ridden by her husband, to Smith's Kartes, an import from Argentina where Arab racing is much bigger, taking up 50 per cent of the average racecard. Fairton flattered to deceive. Despite a poor start, Kartes came through to win comfortably. When we came face to face in the unsaddling enclosure I swear he curled his lip.
In Hong Kong recently I heard the now ex-governor, Chris Patten, present a kind of Desert Island Discs, including a Saint- Saens piece which was used for Babe, the film about a pig which acted as a sheepdog. He recalled that Churchill had once com- mented, 'Dogs look up to you, cats look down on you, but pigs treat you as an equal.' Where that leaves the relationship between a man and a horse is uncertain. Trainer Mark Prescott was pointing out the other day that conceit drives humans through the pain barrier to reach gold medal status, greyhounds will do anything to have the chance of grabbing a hare's back end, but horses do not have anything like that urge to race. Certainly, a number seem in need of a motivational psychiatrist, though some of those I back, judging by their racecourse behaviour, would never get up again off the couch.
Saturday, though, was not that kind of day. The Fred Archer Stakes featured a high-class field of four including Robert Armstrong's Kutta, one of this column's top ten to follow. After four honest races in the best company without a win, he was back to his best distance of lm 4f and had the cut in the ground he loves. Kutta won by four lengths and, if the wet weather keeps up, his trainer is confident there is more success to come. Kutta was not much of a price, but I did do myself some good at 11-4 with Ramooz in the Van Geest Crite- rion Stakes. In the Royal Hunt Cup at Royal Ascot I had backed the wrong one of Reg Akehurst's two runners. But just 41 behind the winner that day was Ben Han- bury's Ramooz, carrying a hefty weight. He, too, likes to be able to dig his toes The way to my heart through my stomach isn't going to work with cuttlefish stew." in and seemed good value at Newmarket.
Ramooz has to be held up for a late run, the sort of requirement which can make the smoothest of jockeys look foolish if he mistimes it by half a second. But Willie Ryan rode with all the confidence of a Derby-winning jockey to come through a narrow gap and snatch victory in the dying strides. I was cheerful. So was the lady punter in the electric blue dress presum- ably bought for her younger sister. Her cel- ebrations reminded me of the woman of whose dress Victor Borge once remarked: `She not only fills it. She overflows it.' But on a sunny Saturday on the July course anything goes. Just so long as they don't frighten the horses . . .
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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