‘It’s always been and always will be the same in the world: The horse does the work and the coachman is tipped’. The author of that pertinent quote has unfortunately long been lost to the sands of time, but while it might still hold true, I would like to ‘buck’ that trend today (sorry – couldn’t resist!).
I have for some weeks been following the build up to the Emerald Cup on various websites and forums and have particularly enjoyed the story about Cinnamon Sugar. I know her connections have had wranglings with ‘Admin’, but all that aside, what has stood out so clearly for me in the past weeks is their incredible enjoyment and affection for their horse (before I get myself in hot water, I am sure the owners of the rest of the field feel the same about their charges and have perhaps just not had the time or opportunity to make it public in quite the same way). Oh – and while I’m on the subject – huge congratulations to Mrs Oppenheimer on Iron Curtain’s fantastic win and best wishes on your recent birthday. May I wish you a very blessed year and many more to follow!
Anyway, to get back to my point, the stories and anecdotes that were shared on-line really made me identify with Cinnamon and her owners and I confess that I got to feeling quite proprietorial about her. This ensured that Saturday found me firmly installed in front of the TV in good time for the pre-race coverage and no doubt joined by a host of voices across the country in shouting her home.
We obviously all have high hopes and big dreams for our horses and the all too harsh reality is that this game is one of far more lows than highs, so it was a real privilege to live vicariously and feel that I had a tiny stake in a ‘big’ horse, even if only for a fleeting moment.
It also gave me a real sense of the hard work, blood, sweat and tears that went into getting that lovely horse into the parade ring for the biggest sand race of the season.
If there is any truth to the old saying that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, then it must also be true that a happiness shared is a happiness doubled. Sharing something somehow makes it bigger and more real. As Cinnamon’s owners so generously shared her story with us, I thought I’d share a little of my story and journey with you too.
As I will no doubt be found out anyway, I might as well confess. I have a horse running on Saturday. No, don’t all go running off to the betting shop – I’m not giving you a sure thing! It’s just a maiden and it’s her first outing and I don’t have any great expectations. I just want my girl to go well and come home safely. You see, I have been lucky enough to grow up with horses and racing. I used to fall asleep to the backdrop of hay being munched and horses snorting happily in their paddocks. My childhood memories are idyllic and filled with the smell of leather and horse feed and the sounds of buckets hitting the floor and the metallic tinkling of bits as bridles were lifted off their hooks.
But this is the first racehorse all of my very own. I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but she is the most exquisite filly – fine and delicate with manners to match – and I have been utterly in love with her since the day she was born. I am thrilled to be registered as her breeder and owner. I started her under saddle myself and it is fitting that she will carry my colours on their maiden outing. I am more than a little proud and excited.
Being a girl, this sort of event is the perfect excuse for a celebration, so I started putting together a list of people to come along and watch her run, or for those further afield, to let them know to watch the event on TV. You see, if you look at the horse carrying the no 3 cloth in the parade ring on Saturday, you will see a horse. An exceptionally pretty horse of course (!), but a horse nonetheless. What you will not see are all the people who have helped and guided her (and me) in getting there.
Horses are often said to be great levelers. What is seldom mentioned is that they are great connectors too. Because horses are not something you can do on your own. Us horse people are arguably ‘unique’ (dysfunctional might be a better word!), so it is fortunate that horses are also uniquely suited to helping us cope with our curious affliction by creating bonds with other people. Horses excite passion and enthusiasm in all walks of life and through their inevitable ups and downs; they have an incredible ability to connect people.
And each horse is a unique composite of all the people and stories who have handled and helped shape them. And this filly is no different. The first human hands my filly knew were my dad’s, helping her onto the straw the day she was born. Over the years I have had a team of vets help me stitch and patch and doctor her foalhood ills. She grew up in more kind hands on a lovely farm in the Cape where she was allowed her to experience life as a horse should – in a group, with enough space to gallop and friends to cause mischief with.
Horses permeate the most intimate and unexpected areas of your life and they make you friends and win you allies in the unlikeliest of places. My most recent job was earned on the back of my being horsey, as the girl processing the CV’s suffers a similar affliction and put in a good word on my behalf.
I have come to be on friendly terms with the proprietors of my local café as well as the fish & chip shop next door on the strength of writing for the SP. For the benefit of the rather unexpected racing enthusiasts I uncovered in Kraaifontein, I should add that the café is open late and has the freshest rolls in town. And the lovely ladies at the fish shop next door know how to whip up a mean hake & chip parcel and they do it with such a smile that the queue is usually 3 deep (arrive early to avoid disappointment!).
You see, horse people usually like talking horses. Make that female horse people and you’re really talking (and that’s no joke!).
Through my horses and the wonderful world of the internet, I am lucky to have fallen in with the most amazing group of girls. It’s my own private chat / support group, which I affectionately think of as my ‘List’. We are a fantastic cross-section of horsey disciplines and walks of life, but have in common a sense of humour, a bit of chutzpah and our beloved horses. Because as I’ve said before, horses are not for sissies. You have to carry bales of hay and bags of feed, treat injuries, think on your feet and make tough decisions on a daily basis. Most of all you have to sit on half a ton of muscle, raw energy and unpredictability and do it with your lipstick intact and a smile on your face. As they say, Fred Astaire was great, but Ginger Rogers did everything he did backwards…and in high heels!
You see, it’s not just about horses, it’s about life and love and learning and sharing. On any given day, one of us is celebrating the arrival of a foal, a stellar lesson or show success, a new saddle or a horse who is finally sound after months of treatment. The same day is often tempered with a disappointing ride, an injury, or the loss of an old friend. As horse people and animal lovers, we share and participate in the accelerated life cycle of our horses and all their ups, downs and quirks. The relationships that result are their unique gift to us and the ‘bones’ that will hold us up and carry us long after the horse is gone.
I also have to mention my wonderful husband (the ‘money’. Often also the ‘patience’ the ‘sense of humour’, the ‘rock’). It goes without saying that my trainer (and his lovely wife), the exercise riders and the grooms also deserve medals for their patience and tolerance in allowing a happy hacker to shatter the peace of their Saturday mornings with my bags of carrots and odd ideas.
As with most things in life, the anticipation is likely to be more exciting than the actual event, but either way, I hope there’s a little more flavor to the 9th at Durbanville on Saturday.
Thomas Edison famously said that Genius is one percent inspiration and, ninety-nine percent perspiration. Well, my lovely filly might be doing the perspiring on Saturday, but in all the ways that count, she won’t be running alone.
