July Raceday
The Vodacom Durban July was run in warm winter sunshine after the midweek inclement weather had put a damper on it.
The wind certainly helped to alleviate the problem even though it was decided to call off the two opening events to abet the drying track. Approximately fifty five thousand revelers descended on the track to witness the current equine superstars do battle. The array of outfits, or in some cases, the lack of them, were outstanding, and big race trainer, Jeff Freedman, came in a canary yellow suit last worn by Freddie Mercury at a ’70’s bath house party in San Francisco. Freedman had been the subject of much mirth when hypnotized at a pre-July function & must still have been under the spell to don such an outfit. It was so loud it came with its own volume control and his owner, Shorgen Phillips, wore a matching yellow outfit to boot. With the Tour De France in full swing, maybe they were both vying for the yellow jacket.
Another big race trainer, Gavin Van Zyl, tried to emulate Elton John as ring master and wore a top hat that made him resemble Paul Kruger at his first official opening of parliament. Quite a few race goers had gone for the top hat and tails look that resembled the Doves undertakers team ready to troop inebriated wanton women off the premises. It seemed as if all the major players in the industry had turned up and many overseas visitors filled the various venues. Minkey Goss of Summerhill fame had a slew of dignitaries in tow as he strode up to his private box. His stud is trying to win its ninth consecutive Breeders’ title and he was forced to watch as main challengers, Klawervlei, turned out some excellent equine athletes to win big races on the the day. It sure looks like it is going to be a humdinger of battle to the wire. Master horseman and stud man extraordinaire, John Koster, the King of Klawervlei, was all smiles as he surveyed the athletic prowess of his successful breeding stock.
The opening event was won by the talented, Master Plan, for Fred Crabbia who lamented the fact that his son of Jet Master had been overlooked for the big one again despite not having won a race for almost a year. Talking about big ones, I notice Clyde Basel, the epitome of masculinity, clambering up the stairs in an instance.
Jeff Freedman at July after party
The final field had come in for some heated debate by some of the major players and much had been said about the merits, or lack of them, of some runners. There will always be opinions, and differences have led to everything from divorces to world wars, and possibly, next year the process and approach will have to be amended and modified. The great race and its traditions do not need to be tinged by this type of controversy.
I walked out of the parade ring to be accosted by an inebriated Indian fellow who says, “Hey Laffty, how’s yourself? I’m a touch door neighbour of Ronnie the barman. What you’d like?”
I have no idea who he is talking about but send him packing with a lazy twenty and a promise to keep my ear to the ground in hope of finding a winner. The queues coming from the ATM machine are longer than Bill Lamberts entourage as he wafts by followed by more government hangers on than the Titanic had lifeboats. I do not envy Bill’s job as he panders to the expectant free loaders up in the sumptuous enclaves of the classic room. Greg Sadie, the original Elvis impersonator, wafts by with a pile of computarforms under his Hugo Boss shirtsleeves as he makes his way down to the bookmakers, jacket pockets abulging. He is a form studier of note & resembles one of Liberace’s close confidants on his way to a Vegas soirée.
We get a hint of what is to come later when Kolkata wins the fourth race for Sean Tarry, Chris Van Niekerk and Klawervlei, as he shows his well-being after impressing at the Vodacom gallops just ten days previously. Dees Dayanand looks as though he is dressed up for a Bhangra competition in Sea Cow Lake over Dewali. He has a large following around the country and many of his friends are fawning all over him outside the parade ring like groupies at a Bon Jovi concert. In the actual paddock, you see a lot of the usual suspects including those that don’t know the difference between doing things right and doing the right things. Another hypnotee from the Thursday night function, Raymond Deacon, could also still be under the soporific effect as he lumbers by looking like Rin Tin Tin on bunga & dressed for an Everest trek.
drunk Indian man
The Golden Slipper winner produces the first group one winner for main line stallion Trippi and Team Tarry as For the Lads wins a good race. A proud moment for Gaynor Rupert, Drakenstein Stud and fellow investors, as the chestnut filly out of Skin Tight comes home well to kick off a big day for rising star, S’manga Khumalo.
I waltz up to the view room to have lunch and I see what appears to be the diminutive, Michael Roberts, walking across the course with his head bent down akin to a Buddist monk traipsing along in deep meditation. I realise that you are not supposed to look up if you see a shadow of a pigeon, but he may have wandered off into the remote recesses of his imagination. We might not have HRH the Queen on track but the irrepressible Bill Lambert has a regal demeanour of his very own as he brings another group of admiring visitors in to the parade ring. He
introduces me to the Mayor of Pietermaritzburg and his counterpart from Durban. I wonder where the original mayor of Durban, Robbie Martin, is entertaining as he normally has an entourage of aging blue rinses with him – probably the bar at Stella Football Club.
They introduce the twenty jockeys to a crowded parade ring before they mount up and get on to the course to tremendous applause. The atmosphere is outstanding as everyone gives a minute silence to the ailing senior statesman, Nelson Mandela, before a wonderful rendition of our national anthem by a very talented Soprano singer. The big race is run at a good tempo as runners vie for their positions and Heavy Metal holds off determined challenges from Run For It and Do You Remember to once again emphasize the dominance of superlative stallion, Silvano.
Bill Lambert
The big three are back, with Chris Van Niekerk and Sean Tarry securing back to back Vodacom Durban July winners and young S’manga Khumalo becoming the first black rider to win the race. Many of the fancied runners are strung out like junkies in Kabul and last years winner, Pomodoro, trails in down the field to emphasize the uncertain and erratic nature of this great game.
Leaving the parade ring, I literally bump into my Indian friend from earlier in the day who has now completely marinated his body in alcohol and is less than one drink from intensive care. I have seen people look better after the life support system has been turned off. “Eh Laffty…” he slurs before he loses focus totally and shuffles off aimlessly.
I notice Gary Player, South Africa’s greatest golfer in the parade ring talking with Robin Bruss.
I had last seen him, that is Gary, at Royal Ascot where he received a standing ovation before giving out the prizes. There were autograph hunters standing in line and it is a pity that he is not afforded the same treatment in his homeland. He is a great ambassador and loves his racing. Jimbo Goodman my great friend and co presenter breezed by resembling British Actor Terry Thomas in the last weeks of his life, without the moustache, contentedly puffing on an Monte Christo on his way to auditions for ‘Çarry On Up The Khyber’. After the Currie Cup match was shown on the impressive big screen the parties got in to full swing with the wonderful Durban backdrop being illuminated by a fireworks display.
James Goodman
The post festivities cleaning crew managed to resuscitate ‘Fat Boy’ Scott from a slumped position in his box at eight thirty in the morning. He was last seen been wheel chaired into the liver transplant unit in the emergency ward of Entabeni hospital. Our best wishes are with him.
