Racing
Not today
Jeffrey Bernard
The continuing saga of my wretched horse 'Deciduous is beginning to get on my nerves, get me down and get me in debt. She ran for the third time last Monday evening at Wolverhampton and came in a well beaten fourth. For once I couldn't go to the course and see her, but the next time she sees me I hope she has the decency to lower her eyes and blush a little. She actually opened up as the 7-2 favourite before drifting out to 5-1 and that surely must have been a bookmaker's `come-on'. At the beginning of the day Terry Wogan, I'm told, put the bock on her by tipping her and, at the same time, blew my cover on Private Eye as Colonel Mad. Curses, curses. Then, later in the morning, I phoned up Victor Chandler who kindly let me have a credit account for the day and I put £20 on her. It's a fact that I don't give a hoot about losing £20, or a very tiny hoot, but what's beginning to drive me mad is this crazy emotional involvement with Deciduous just because my name appears in print after hers on the race card and in the Sporting Life. When the result of the race came over the blower in the betting shop I was biting my nails in, I realised how my mother must have felt when I got expelled from school. Before the race, I went in to the 'French' pub for 'just the one' and to pick up a friend to accompany me to the shop and there was a sudden flood of money for Deciduous from various Spanish waiters and people at the bar. You see, that's another thing about having a geegee. Everyone you know is on your side and then when the horse trails in fourth there's a certain amount of lipcurling and boring banter. Even if the horse wins it's the owner that always carries a penalty.
After the race I retired hurt to another pub since I couldn't face explanations to a mob of irate Spaniards and, sitting there, having a moan like I'm having now, some twit had the nerve to say, 'Well, just think how Robert Sangster must have felt when Durtal was injured at the start of the Oaks and had to be withdrawn with the race at her mercy.' In answer to that I can only say that whatever Robert Sangster feels it's cushioned by-having a few million quid in his current account. Furthermore, when Mr Sangster feels like selling a horse he's at liberty to do so and since his horses are his own or in partnerships with friends he can sell a horse without having nine angry coal miners coming after him with picks. God alone knows how you get out of a syndicate financially intact if no one wants to buy your share. Anyway, I'm now awaiting explanations and excuses from Doug Marks who will, no doubt, have something funny and uplifting to say about Monday's race.
Personally, I'd like to send herto Chantilly where they get up to so many dodges on the quiet that I sometimes think they could get a donkey to win the Derby. Actually, this is something I'd love to have the time and money to investigate properly. I'm not one of those people who go about saying that racing is all bent, in fact I think it's far straighter than most people do. But I have a shrewd suspicion that French racing is dis tinctly murky. Which reminds me, by the way, of my favourite French racing joke which is actually true. An Australian jockey who will have to remain nameless got a retainer to ride for a big stable at Chantilly, duly arrived and they found that he couldn't speak a word of French. They got an interpreter to him who said, 'Now the first thing you'll have to learn is a phrase the guvnor might use when he gives you a leg up at Longchamp tomorrow. It's "Pas aujourd hui" and it means not today.'
What a pity that you don't have to say a single bloody word to Deciduous. I'm beginning to think that as far as she's concerned it's not yesterday, today or tomorrow.
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