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Showing posts from January, 2014

Another good 'un gone

Uncle Gerry died on Saturday. Another good ‘un gone. Gerry, Dublin born and bred, loved his racing, as I found out on a family holiday to Ireland a few years ago. My mate Bacchy had been put on to this horse called Down To The Woods. One of the best two-year-olds in Mark Johnston's Middleham yard at the time. We had won on the colt more than once already. So, come late August, I'm telling Uncle Gerry about this in his local bar in Raheny, a decent enough suburb in north Dublin. “Oh yes, it's running at Doncaster tomorrow.” “Is that so, now?” “It's already won there, so it should go well.” I've had a Guinness or two so the bullshit is beginning to flow quite nicely. “As long as the ground doesn't come up too soft it's a real contender.” You would really think I knew what I was talking about. I frighten myself sometimes. “D'ye hear this, Michael? We have a tip for the races tomorrow.”  The landlord leans over and po

Fallout

Celebrating the true spirit of track changes, here is an unvarnished, rambling verdict on yesterday's runners - marked up in red! blog My  40 To Follow  stable has, by and large, been tucked up in cosy boxes during January, snuffling warm hay and ignoring the sodden countryside. Today it feels like the dam has burst. Not only because Haywards Heath and Tewkesbury are under water, but also because I've got eight, EIGHT, of my lads out today. That's 20% of the whole project. I suspect there are more waders and snorkels declared amongst this lot than cheekpieces and hoods. In fact Ascot, which drains well except for the damp patch down by Swinley Bottom, rode well. Horses were getting through smoothly enough and at a sensible pace. The turf didn't appear too loose or sloppy. Even Haydock which was forecast to sit under hammering showers blown in by a moody jet stream seemed to escape the worst of it. Heavy - yes, but raceable - absolutely.   Cheltenham is round the c

Pieces of eight

My 40 To Follow stable has, by and large, been tucked up in cosy boxes during January, snuffling warm hay and ignoring the sodden countryside. Today it feels like the dam has burst. Not only because Haywards Heath and Tewkesbury are under water, but also because I've got eight, EIGHT, of my lads out today. That's 20% of the whole project. I suspect there are more waders and snorkels declared amongst this lot than cheekpieces and hoods. But Cheltenham is round the corner and the representatives out today will all have Festival aspirations to one extent or another. Today has the feel of a make or break day and I could be at any point on the whooping-weeping continuum come 4.15pm. Trustan Times - 12.55 Haydock Has underwhelmed so far over hurdles and last season's form may have flattered him. Back to fences here (novice chase form is sound enough), he might be able to exploit the lower mark in the graduation chase. This is where he should be. Benvolio is serious opposi

Mad as a Moose

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The New Year seems to bring a step change in Cheltenham Festival counting down. The crunching sound you hear through your laptop speakers is the mangling of website gearboxes. Electronic media seems to have cranked from 1 st to 5 th in an urgent drive to pump out Cheltenham stories. I’ve lost count already of Festival stories about jockey bookings, vague and uninformative running plans, Championship race entries and betting offers. So here’s my preview… Not really. (But I am weakening.) In amongst the Festival focus, I was intrigued by the reporting of BHA’s decision to ban Mad Moose from racing.   Nine months, at least, on the sidelines for the 10-year-old who has made a habit of refusing to race.  The BHA said Thursday's ban was put in place to protect punters. He blotted his copy book most recently at Sandown during the Grade 1 Tingle Creek Chase in early December. We were there. I have to say, a couple of our gang backed him at the outrageous prices on offer.

A little scene setting

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The Christmas festivals and festivities have sped by like a Mitchell Johnson bouncer and I haven’t been able to raise a Mug Punting post since early December.   It’s hard to lay my distractions entirely at the door of the cricket though. The Ashes were prised out of England’s grip in 15 painful, sorry days. The debacle robbed me of far less sleep than anticipated. My early morning telly loyalty was betrayed too many times by the tourists’ careless batting and inconsistent bowling. ‘Prised’ might be a charitable term for the way Cook’s lightweights have capitulated on this tour. Some signs were well noted in England last Summer: the resilience of Haddin, the resurgence of Harris and the resurrection of Rogers. It pointed to a closer Ashes series this Winter. Credit to Johnson, sure. He’s a confidence player, and has found his mojo on the fast, hard and bouncy pitches of Australia. Mitch the moustache: sizing up the oppo. But that still shouldn’t have added up to humilia