“We know who we are and we define what we are by references to the people we love and our reasons for loving them” – Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram
OK, after that slightly heavy intro, Happy Wednesday all!
We have another great weekend’s racing behind us. JJ The Jet Plane, Lucky Houdalakis, Bernard Fayd’herbe, River Jetez, Mike de Kock and Felix Coetzee made us proud in Dubai and on home soil we had some great results at home on Classic Day. However, despite our fantastic track exploits, what really caught my attention this week was a forum post (yes, I read the forums, get over it) by a gentleman interested in getting into racing. Unfortunately he was having reservations and asking for some advice as to whether owning a racehorse was really worth it.
And to be fair, with all the politics and bad press, it’s not an unreasonable question.
As to the answer – well, where to start?! With our social and political history, I think South Africans have in many ways inherited a legacy of apology. Heading over to the UK as a wet behind the ears greenie many years ago, I was always trying to dodge the dreaded question ‘where are you from?’ in case anyone lynched me. I was happy just to be accepted, never mind daring to try and tell anyone what a fantastic country and people we had.
I think in many ways we still tend to be far too modest and self-deprecating about our talents, so I’m going to put all the social niceties and airs and graces aside for today and say that South Africa rocks. And South African horses, horse racing and the horse racing community are, as far as I’m concerned anyway, absolutely the business.
I hardly have to mention the horses – South African-breds grace studs and honour rolls across the world and canny and discerning buyers have long known that we are a source of competitively priced, quality horse flesh. Yes, our export protocols are still stuck in the Dark Ages, but swings and roundabouts and all that.
We can wax lyrical about our courses, our weather, etc, but the element that often goes unrated, unnoticed and unmentioned is our fabulously rich and diverse collection of racing characters.
For someone like me who will never break any land speed records, produce great art or be invited on Oprah, horses are a sort of Willa Wonka’s golden ticket into one of the most fascinating worlds imaginable.
There is glamour and excitement, beautiful people, money and foreign travel and horses are the passport to all of that. I couldn’t tell you the name of my neighbor, but I have picked up the phone to some of the most famous stud farms, spoken to some of the wealthiest owners, approached some of the most successful trainers and rubbed shoulders with some of the world’s most successful jockeys. And in each and every instance, I have been made to feel welcome. And it’s the same across the board from the smallest yards to the biggest.
Racing runs the gamut from princes to paupers and amongst the citizens of our strange little world we can count the best as well as the worst in people, horses and life. And it’s all condensed into a tiny microcosm, where personalities, emotions and events are conveniently accelerated and amplified, so that you really can live a lifetime in your lunch hour.
No matter who you are, by virtue of a set of colours and an Authority to Act, you have at your disposal the biggest and best in the business. And there really is little as exciting, inspiring and energizing as spending time with people who are genuinely knowledgeable and good at what they do.
Celebs know they have reached iconic status when there is no longer a need for a surname, such as Madonna, Britney, Pele, Mandela; or better yet, when they start being known by a different name altogether – Brangelina, The Fab Four, The Big Easy. Yet we can stroll into the parade ring and dish out instructions to Striker, Felix or Bernard without giving it a second thought.
Racing reaches right across the spectrums of ethnicity, politics and economics. You can be an oil baron, a cattle baron, a Chechen president or a check out chick –in the eyes of the starter we are all equal.
It’s fast, it’s furious and it’s pressured. And there are no half measures. Which is just as well really as you get out as much as you put in. Much like you can’t be a little bit pregnant, you also can’t be a little bit involved with racing. You dive bomb into the deep end, because, well, there isn’t really a shallow one!
The racing world is rude, it’s crude, and it is filthy, hard, back-breaking work. It’s early mornings, little sleep and a constant battle to maintain an equilibrium. But find the right crowd and I can more or less guarantee that you will never drink so much, party so hard, laugh so loud, or have as much fun as you will with racing people. You will be excited, exhausted and hung over in more or less equal amounts. There is more scandal, drama and intrigue than Heat, You and People Magazine could handle (and that’s just the bits they could print!); as well as more blood, guts and gore than Stephen Spielberg would know what to do with.
What about the speculation about crooked jockeys, trainers, bookies, etc? Where there are rules, there will be people trying to get around them and there will always be someone trying to buck the system (and frankly, people who that will appeal to), but in that whole yin-yang way, I like to think that there are just as many doing it right. And in a way, finding that perfect fit of horse to trainer to jockey is almost as much of a rite of passage and (occasionally baptism by fire!) as anything else.
“The worst thing about corruption as a system of governance, is that it works so well”. Fortunately the credit for that quote does not belong to me (before anyone picks up the phone for legal advice!). It would be disingenuous to deny that our operators and race day staff come in for a fair amount of flack – sometimes fairly and sometimes less so. I have an ex-husband and it is easy as well as almost expected that I should knock the horrid ogre who everyone was throwing confetti and Tupperware at in equal measure not so long ago. To be quite honest, he really wasn’t such a bad guy – we just weren’t all that compatible. But that really doesn’t make for very good dinner conversation, now does it?
In the same way it is awfully tempting (as well as easy) to take the Micky out of the operators, the NHA, the RA (and all the other TLA’s) – particularly given the no interaction with press policy. However, in my experience (and again, see the wet behind the ears section above), on the whole I have mostly met with friendly and approachable people who have been only too happy to help, advise and guide. Our operators might not be perfect, but if anyone in the world has designed a perfect system of governance, then I’d like to hear about it. In general there seem to be a lot of people who do care about the game and put in a lot of hard work to get things right and make them work, even under difficult circumstances. So yes, we do give you guys a hard time, but it’s usually done in a fairly affectionate manner (and let’s be honest, you guys know you love the attention!).
As to the fees – the vet fees, the registration fees, the nomination fees, the transport fees, the just because fees – they are a fact of racing. Be prepared. In fact, tell your bank manager to be prepared. Horses will injure themselves in the most creative and innovative ways and they will always do it on a weekend or public holiday. Your horse will see the dentist, physio and masseuse more often than you will and go through more pairs of shoes that you will ever have thought possible. If your nag ever manages the good fortune of staying alive, staying sound and staying in front long enough to cross the line first, your trainer will need a cut, your jockey will need a cut, your groom will need a cut and most of the patrons at the bar will expect a goodwill drink. So if you have enough left over for a pie and Coke on the way home (and perhaps a bag of carrots for the mighty steed), you’re doing well!
And then of course, a lot of horses won’t make it. The sale price unfortunately does not come with a warranty and we all pay our money and take our choice. Most horses will either suffer some sort of career ending injury, or will simply never possess the speed (or not come into it early enough) to make themselves viable. There will be loss and heartache and heartbreak along the way.
But, to borrow another phrase from the esteemed Mr Roberts – ‘Happiness would have been no more than just another facet of our lives had it not been for suffering. One craves for happiness not just because of the joy it can bring, but because it is special. Suffering makes happiness special. If suffering was as good as history and happiness common place, then no one would even give happiness a second thought.’
So, if it’s hardship and suffering you want, then racing is the place for you. It’s expensive, it’s tough and the rewards are few and far between. But the flip side of the coin is that when the rewards come, they come in equally crazy, unexpected and unimagined amounts and it’s the promise of those highs that keeps us hooked and coming back for more.
So yes, getting involved with racing flies in the face of all reason and sense. It is hard on your time, your wallet and your reserves of energy and patience. But it is also expansive and accepting of anyone who is prepared to jump onto the crazy bandwagon feet first and damn, it’s a lot of fun.
For anyone mad enough to throw their hat into the fray, racing offers a space in the parade ring and a hell of a ride and therefore I am proud to know who I am and define what I am by reference to all you wonderful, opinionated, crazy racing folk out there.
So, if you can laugh in the face of death, sneer at doom, and chuckle at catastrophe and if your liver, wallet and nerves can take it – my only question is – what are you waiting for?
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a racehorse owner, my son!
