The turf
Plain infuriating
Robin Oakley
Westminster's favourite story this week is the one about the opinion poll in which, allegedly, 900 American women were asked if they would sleep with Presi- dent Clinton. Six hundred replied, 'Never again.'
Speculation about the President's untrousered activities certainly does not seem to have done him much harm in the real US opinion polls, where he still soars like an eagle surrounded by turkeys. So perhaps the Jockey Club should have been a little less sensitive, too, to what they feared public opinion might be before sus- pending the three jockeys involved in race- fixing allegations. Wisely they relented and unsuspended them last week, a decision which I heartily support in the interests of natural justice and which does Jockey Club officials considerable credit. I cannot, alas, claim that my urgings last week made the slightest contribution to their change of mind since it was announced between the submission of my last column and its appearance.
The racing authorities have been breast- beating for weeks over the industry's finances. We have seen the dramatic departure of the BHB chairman John Wakeham in disagreement with the BHB's financial plan. The three jockeys have been arrested amid lurid tales of corruption. And we have all been enthralled by the detail of the court case involving the Sport- ing Life's allegation of cheating by the trainer Lynda Ramsden and her gambling husband Jack, surely the coolest calculator of the odds since the last great Mississippi riverboat movie (wouldn't you like to have `Was it that bad you have to kill yourself?' the country's biggest bookmakers can- celling your account because they couldn't afford to keep you?).
But if all those events are supposed to have knocked the confidence of punters and undermined the future of the sport, there is precious little sign of it. Racing folk are at ease with human nature. In my local Epsom betting shop last week, the cigarette smoke from studious punters was as thick as ever, and the scrumpled-up bet- ting slips on the floor were no fewer in number. As for Sandown Park on a sunny Saturday for the Agfa Diamond Chase, the racing public had voted with their feet, or with their matched Michelins. The carparks were full, the doughnut ladies and hog roasts were doing a roaring trade, and the crowd around the parade ring was packed deep. They clearly were not perturbed by the image of racing which to my mind was done rather more immediate harm by the several top jockeys riding alongside Tony McCoy in the Agfa Hurdle.
The three lively Champion Hurdle hopes, Shadow Leader (Norman Williamson), Sanmartino (Richard Dun- woody) and I'm Supposin (David Bridgwa- ter), set off at a trot, barely raised a canter for the first two furlongs and let the two- mile race develop into a six-furlong sprint. They were then surprised when they were outsprinted by the mere handicapper Mas- ter Beveled, ridden by champion McCoy.
Their lack of initiative in ensuring a true pace played into the hands of a rider who knew he was sitting on what had been the quickest animal in the race when on the flat (and who had a respectable second to Make A Stand to his credit last season).
I know all those riders were on horses which like to come from off the pace and had almost certainly been told not to make it. But when nobody did, somebody needed to readjust their plan. Really good jockeys should know, too, when to take the risk of disobeying orders, because all three ani- mals are better stepping up the gas off an already testing pace in a timely run race.
As a Cheltenham prep race for the three the Sandown outing was useless. As a guide to the Champion Hurdle form, it was total- ly confusing. And for the punters at Sandown it was just plain infuriating.
All credit though to Tony McCoy. If some people have muscles in places where ordinary mortals don't have places, McCoy sees opportunities in situations where oth- ers haven't even grasped there is a situa- tion.
There were, though, two real pleasures at Sandown that day. One was watching the three old boys Big Matt, Storm Alert and Oh So Risky battle it out in a race which might have been made for such stalwarts of the jumping scene. The other was watching Carl Llewellyn bring home Nigel Twiston- Davies's exciting novice chaser Jack Doyle, a winner for the second Saturday running. Owner Brian Robertson said after his facile victory at Cheltenham the week before, `They say he's got a soft palate, he hangs to his left and he's got a heart murmur. I've got all those things and I'm not doing too badly.' There were heart murmurs all round the course as Jack Doyle spent most of the race in last place. But Llewellyn brought him with a rattle at the last and he will surely win again.
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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