Lack of success gives me hope

My friend Jags is not very young but she is extremely attractive and has a kind heart; unfortunately  she likes horseracing and bought a two-year-old recently. She told me this story with a wry smile: After 24 months of being a racehorse owner with proprietorial dreams, I have now had a week as an owner with doubts. What is for sure is that had we not purchased this two-year-old, we would be about $80,000 better off. What is in the melting pot is the rosiness of the future.

I had a friend in England who prided himself on the fact that his gelding once contested a race won by Arkle. His brute fell at the first but “we took on Arkle, not a lot of owners can say that,” was his recurring boast. Well, my filly took on a leading four-year-old who is now fancied to win the Stewards Cup, and finished last behind that star of the future; this could be significant. Some horses that finished similar distances behind Top Of Class last year were considered distinctly useful. I bought the daily newspapers in case they had observed something I had missed in her performance at Arima. There was none obviously, as the local media cares nothing for the owners unless they are getting some monetary gain for writing an article.

If there was one it would have read: “On the burly side, scratched to post, having missed the break was always behind,” in summary. I had noticed that too. In addition, she blew like Thomas the Tank Engine after the race. Is that my fault, or that of the horse, or that of the trainer? When your daughter gets a poor report do you blame her, the teachers, or yourself for begetting the child and sending her to that school? I looked for analogies. In greyhound racing you are sold a dog and if it fails to return sufficiently fast qualifying times, it gets shot. “Just like that,” as Englishman Tommy Cooper used to say. In pigeon racing you buy a homing pigeon, enter it in a race, it fails to return. No problem. Cockfights. If your fighting cock comes second, it tends to be what Hitler called “the final solution.”

To own a horse that disappointed on her initial outing is a situation open to many interpretations. “It wasn’t her day,” is the favourite, but I fear it is simplistic, for both her trainer and her groom said in the parade ring that she was extra-well. “She was outclassed,” makes sense, but this trainer has a high strike-rate, is no fool and would surely not enter a filly for a race in which she stood absolutely no chance. Ten months ago I asked him how he rated her; his reply was: “I have two-year-olds who are faster and ones who are slower.” Both jockeys that rode her on the gallops, pronounced her to be a nice filly, who “could win first time out,” but they would say that. In common with all owners who attempt to find reasons for performances whether high or low-and ours was low— “she missed the break” is the one I like best.

If you have no experience of competition and find yourself on foreign soil, two lengths behind seven other horses, a smart filly just might think to herself: “As no one expects me to win — look at my odds of 33-1 — I’d do as well having an easy today; then next time I run I’ll start at 50s and my nice owners will have what I understand they call ‘a right touch,’ and then in a few weeks’ time I’ll run over 1350 metres and they won’t go like the clappers and I shan’t miss the break and it will be at some comfortable, undemanding track.” I have tried to believe that. Deep down I think she came last because she has insufficient speed to compete at a high level. Goodness, I do hope I am wrong.

Anyway congratulations to my friend Jags, because I have hope now as a prospective owner. If you love horseracing, you have to take the good with the bad, all you require is that the Arima Race Club, the stewards, the jockeys, the trainers, the groomsmen, the starters and others are honest and true to the character of fair play. Am I asking for too much? For the best in website management and change management check cornelis-associates.com