The turf
Serious business
Robin Oakley
Agushing hostess once asked a depart- ing George Bernard Shaw whether he had enjoyed himself at her party. 'Yes, madam, and it was the only thing I did enjoy,' replied the curmudgeonly author. Being lucky enough last Wednesday week to race at Hong Kong's luxurious Sha Tin track and to get home in time for the Epsom Derby, I was struck above all by the differ- ent ways in which people enjoy themselves.
Certainly a night at Sha Tin reveals what can be done with a Tote monopoly, quite apart from the millions ploughed into local charities. The vast modern stadium, built at a cost of HK$900 million, offered unri- valled viewing facilities as the swallows wheeled in and out under the floodlights and the big screen showed the back- straight action. Every form of electronic gadgetry was available for placing bets. The buffet dinner in the air-conditioned restau- rant at £20 a head offered the finest of rare beef, excellent curries and puddings which any French pdtissier would have been proud to display. The delightful young ladies punching out Tote tickets even said, 'Good luck,' and brought me some.
Races started to time. Horses which played up in the stalls were rapidly ruled out. Jockeys' dropped whips, steering prob- lems and bumps in the running were metic- ulously detailed in stewards' reports. With the unstoppable Australian Patrick Payne riding a fine double and with an end-of- season tussle for champion trainer between Ivan Allan and David Hayes going to the line there was plenty of spice to the racing. (Anyone heading for Hong Kong after the new season begins should make a note of Andy Leung's All For Love, which showed good speed before fading to finish fourth on its debut.) I am, I admit, short of the Cantonese for `Go on, my son' or 'Stick in there, Majestic Conqueror' but the crowd appeared to cheer their favourites home. Local experts assured me that the Hong Kong Chinese, somewhat short of alternative sporting spectacles like Arsenal v. Tottenham or Saracens v. Rosslyn Park, don't actually regard betting on horses as gambling in the way they would participation in the lottery. (In Britain lottery tickets are not sold in betting shops because it might encourage wider gambling. In Hong Kong lottery tick- ets are sold only in betting shops to dis- courage wider gambling. Funny people, legislators.) But there was something missing besides the bookies' pitches which I instinctively sought in place of the beer tents in front of the grandstand. And it was Old Red Socks who made it plain to me. There he was, respectably dressed and silently contempla- tive, sitting on the ground near the lifts as I went up for the first race. There he was five races later, as I came down again, still sit- ting in the same place. All that had changed was the pile of betting slips beside him and the heavier Biro scoring on his racing paper. I suppose, like Shaw, he had enjoyed himself. But with a television mon- itor in view he had clearly never moved fur- ther than the 25 yards to the Tote windows. And on the course there was no excited huddle round the returning winners, no unsaddling-enclosure rituals, no sense of involvement with horses, trainers or jock- eys.
It is a touch unfair to compare a stan- dard day at the excellent Sha Tin with Derby Day at Epsom, even if the betting volume would have been little different. (The sums invested in backing horses aver- age £600 a year for every man, woman and child in Hong Kong). But at Epsom every- one who knew their racing wanted to get close enough to see the sweat on Benny the Dip and Silver Patriarch, two horses who had fought out such an epic finish. Every- one wanted to cheer jockey Willie Ryan, the honest understudy whose 15 minutes of fame had come after he'd been ignored for so many big rides that Willie Carson had nicknamed him `By-pass'. Everyone wanted to share in the hour of triumph for John Gosden, the elegant and popular trainer who had run Benny the Dip only for the place money. Involvement was the word, whether you were wearing a top hat or a kiss-me-quick. And never mind if you had done your money.
Sha Tin has brilliant organisation and excellent facilities. I would race there any day. British racing is full of problems and short of money. But it is still fun. It still has the character to make you care. With the candy floss and tattooed biceps crowds back on the hill, with gypsy ladies thrusting carnations at the open-topped buses, and with the Cockney Pride band and their Pearly Kings belting out nostalgic rock and roll alternated with 'Jerusalem' and 'Land Of Hope And Glory', Derby Day was once again a proper day out. The battle for the Saturday Derby has been gloriously and conclusively won.
Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.
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