A light hearted Blog written by Spy one of my close associates who has a way with a pen, a strong opinion on many subjects and a hearty disregard for authority! Like many of us gamblers eh? I hope you enjoy the banter!

All the best

Bob

FRIDAY/ SATURDAY NOVEMBER 21ST/22nd:

Some of you with unlimited patience may be expecting this to contain tips for Saturday. It might do. If it’s all right with you, I’ll see how it goes. What follows might be such a good piece that there is no need to spoil it by suggesting readers back three losers tomorrow.
So how has a confirmed Flat racing follower been spending his time since the Racing Post at Doncaster? To be truthful, mindful I might be scratching to contribute to the domestic budget over the next few months, I have been trying to keep in Mrs Spy’s good books. That in itself is no easy task: I might as well attempt to pick the winner of next year’s Hunt Cup. Right now Mrs Spy is more inclined towards Strictly Come Dancing’s Pasha Kovalev than she is towards me. Young, fit, handsome and apparently charming – it’s a mystery what she sees in him.
In the face of such competition I have been towing the line. This means, rather like those two characters on a tandem in Little Britain, I am morphing into a lady that lunches. We have been spotted in the odd twee establishment that has chintz curtains and home-made cakes and biscuits on its counter as opposed to beer pumps. It appears I am being taught to behave like a lady. I no longer place my elbows on the table and don’t read a racing paper whilst awaiting my bowl of pasta. I keep my voice down when speaking. I drink tea with a finger pointing skyward and no longer bolt my food in anticipation of the start to a Newmarket maiden. To be truthful I am dreading the day when Mrs Spy returns from one of her shopping expeditions with a size 26 dress. My name is Peter, but you can call be Paula!
Hoping to make recompense in other ways I took Mrs Spy to a party in the village last week. It started off pretty well and could have passed as a normal get-together for the first hour. But, given the assembled company, I should have known it wouldn’t last. Without too much warning conversation got louder as drink flowed liberally. One of the problems with house parties is that there are invariably more people wanting a pee than there are lavatories. In particular this applies if one of said rooms is occupied by a couple having a stand up go in the shower. This was apparently the case when, after her second lemonade, Mrs Spy stumbled into the upstairs bathroom. Needless to say the sight of the two naked protagonists behind a shower curtain that was flapping in motion with their jiggling was enough to encourage her to collect her coat.

We left shortly afterwards so I never really knew how the evening developed.
We are booked in at a hotel at Stratford on Sunday night (as far as I know there is no racing at the nearby track on Monday or Tuesday). I believe the plan is to avail ourselves of some culture and, if I behave, there is a possibility that we will visit nearby Warwick (again no racing there as far as I know) in order to see the castle. As Highclere Castle is only seven miles away from where we live, I am at a loss to see why we should travel that far to see another one. Perhaps they serve crumpets and tea!
The matinee winter film club I am member of (there are only two of us) has reconvened. So far our tally of films is three: Fury (gripping and awarded universal maximum marks); Interstellar (over-long and muddled with continuity issues and not in the same league as 2001: A Space Odyssey) and The Imitation Game (excellent performance from Benedict Cumberbatch and laudable British film that is worth seeing, although it does suffer from financial constraints). In tandem with our viewing, as is tradition, the club has also availed itself of three evening meals in The Hatchet at Newbury where, after London Pride aperitifs, we have demolished several bottles of Shiraz. Worryingly, we are becoming familiar to and, in the case of my companion, with the cheeky Polish waitress who has a pair of buttocks that sway beneath her black trousers like oversized marshmallows. The trouble with our present arrangement is that we have to catch buses home and the time of the last to leave Newbury is 6.40, curtailing any further nocturnal activity.

Talking of Newbury I have given next week’s Hennessy a scan, coming to the conclusion that second-season chaser Djakadam and solid jumper Many Clouds are the two most interesting contenders. Unfortunately I receive no marks for originality here as they are first and second favourites in the current betting. I don’t intend to attend. The Hennessy is Newbury’s busiest meeting of the year. This close to the grip of winter it gets cold very quickly. I don’t much fancy shivering on the steps of the stands wanting to relieve myself whilst they slog it out in the fading light.

It is incumbent on me to point out that after they pass the post in the Hennessy there will be less than three weeks remaining before Christmas Day. For some of us that is a fearsome thought. What with the need to buy presents, send cards and arrange enough provisions to withstand a nuclear exchange, it means life is basically on hold for twenty-five days. Why do we fall for this every year? It is further evidence of our willingness as a species to be led through the nose by others. There is an alternative. Those of us of a likeminded persuasion could always cancel the whole affair. If we can find one now there is a Bird Flu scare, we could buy a frozen turkey. This is not compulsory, but turkeys are handy as once cooked they remove the necessity to do battle in the kitchen for at least another week. A cooked turkey can be eaten cold with mash, fricassee d (if you know how – I don’t – I am not even sure if I have spelled it correctly!) curried, stir-fried or turned into gruel. I have already made some preparation for Christmas, having desisted from working-out with no intention of doing so until January of next year. All that remains is to lock the doors, check the wine cheese and beer supply, and grump my way through the last of 2014.
Right now, sensing this is not the outstanding piece of copy I had hopes for when I started, I feel obliged to check tomorrow’s runners.
Today’s Ascot card started with a £300,000 purchase making his debut over timber. For that sort of money I would expect more than a racehorse that is about to embark on an uncertain career over obstacles. I would also prefer to be able to pronounce its name. That said, judging by his imposing looks and the way he loped over his hurdles, it is easy to see why someone was persuaded to part with enough to purchase two Porsches and an Aston Martin on Alisier D’irlande. Trouble is, on today’s showing, he looks the part but lacks a change of gear. However, the ground was mucky, the opposition equally promising and he will probably prove more effective over further. For those involved in this dubious financial venture, the dreams lives on!
So for tomorrow… And what are we supposed to make of the Betfair Chase? Apparently there is confidence behind last year’s winner Cue Card, but he hardly lines up with ideal credentials. With enviable form figures to his name, maybe I am being unkind. Similarly, Silviniaco Conti is not entirely convincing in Grade 1 company and neither is Dynaste over this trip and on this ground. That leaves us with Taquin Du Seuil, who has attracted recent money. However, his jumping in the Charlie Hall left something to be desired and he meets the winner, Menorah, on 5lbs worse terms. Having given the impression he is capable of better, he is a tentative selection in a true Gold Cup rehearsal but he will need to establish a much better rhythm in running.
Faugheen and The New One will be interesting in their respective events but are obviously not betting propositions.
Mince pie anyone?

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN…

With Newmarket earlier this week and Doncaster and Newbury this weekend, it seems we have turned full circle. Is it really five months ago that the 2014 Flat racing season was kick-started in earnest by the Craven and the Greenham? Actually it is…

So the season is speeding to its end. Maybe I am holding on to it for too long as the 2014/15 National Hunt season gathers pace. The thing is, try as I might, I cannot get excited about the re-emergence of steeplechasing, or, as my old colleague Patrick Veitch used to refer to it, as “Jumping Bollocks”.

I received an email the other day from ATR informing me they had missed jumping and wondering if I had also. I resisted the temptation to reply…

Of course it is no surprise that ATR has missed jumping. Judged on their coverage of Flat racing – with all the best meetings bar one (Doncaster) safely under the RUK umbrella – they would wouldn’t they.

But I have no intention of spoiling the fun of others during the coming months. If jumping is your thing, then here’s to a vintage season for you.

Strangely I had the best Cheltenham in living memory last year – it was a festival that would have heartened any so-called professional. For anyone hoping that might be repeated, if only in part come next March, be assured, this year was a one-off. Tipping winners on a day-to-day basis that even included those at double-figure prices is unheard of in this neck of the woods. Sad to say, I was merely the recipient of an adjustment process administered by the Law of Probability. Noting I had not been able to back more than one winner a year (if that) up to 2014, it was redressing the imbalance. Imbalance redressed, normal service will doubtless be resumed this season.

But I am supposed to make my living from backing and trading in horses. So what to do? Success at this business is dependent on a couple of factors: intuition, or a knack (I have talked of this before) and the desire and interest to go that extra mile when researching racecards. The problem for me is that I don’t have the kind of passion for jumping that I have for Flat racing, so I approach a day’s racing at Wincanton or Worcester with the same frame of mind as someone delivering milk. That is to say I will do it, but only until the shift is finished.

I contend that attitude falls short of the required standard. Okay, there are meetings at Cheltenham and Sandown that quicken the pulse, but by and large it’s all pretty much the same to me. To quote Rory Bremner: it’s a case of a brown horse leading another brown horse, with another brown horse making ground up the inside.

However, with Meydan not starting until January, in order to pay the fuel bills this winter I shall have to familiarise myself with some of the names. Actually I have long thought there are only five yards at most to concern ourselves with on the jumping front. At one time I thought all I had to do was wait for the phone to ring from a man within one of them and I could bet blind. You soon learn! After a string of bumper losers at odds of 7/4 or less and never a word about the 10/1 chance in the handicap, I gave up the ghost and invested in a form book.

It is now late in October – the clocks go back this weekend – and the last jump race I watched was at Aintree in April.

This leaves me to make a suggestion. It is the purpose of this website is to entertain and inform. I do my best, but maybe, just maybe, one or two of you would like to assist. I am looking to recruit a few pundits that may be able to post tips for the upcoming season. You don’t have to give your actual names. There is no need for the bank manager or the missus to know. You can use such pseudonyms as thechequeisinthepost.com, myotherjobisasabrainsurgeon, or athermajestyspleasure@aol.com. Get in touch – you never know – you might surprise yourself!

Leaving aside the obvious debatable wisdom of staging the Group 1 Racing Post at Doncaster on the same day as the Group 3 Horris Hill at Newbury this Saturday – both important end of season juvenile races – last Saturday’s Champions’ Day fixture seems to have come under fire for similar reasons. Apparently there is a call from certain quarters for the meeting to be re-scheduled to an earlier time of the year when the ground is less likely to resemble a field from World War I. The problem with such a move would be that, rather like the clamour to exit the European Market, such action would result in serious repercussions. Whilst I have no problem with us either re-negotiating our terms in Europe or leaving altogether (after all the rules have been altered in running by Brussels), I cannot be in favour of our withdrawal from the Pattern established by the major horse racing nations within Europe. France stages the Prix de L’Arc de Triomphe on the first Sunday in October, and that cannot and should not be altered. To some it is the biggest race of the season and, again, I would not wish to quibble with such a statement.

The Champion Stakes is designed for top class performers that have been campaigned with autumn in mind. Run two weeks after the Arc, it also provides a second last gasp opportunity to those refugees from Longchamp’s showpiece. Those that may not have had the rub of the green at Longchamp, or may be better over ten furlongs than twelve get another bite of a big cherry if they can maintain their form under such circumstances.

The Pattern has a long-established history. It may not always suit individual members, but it works. In particular there is a successful exchange between the UK and the French (the most successful European horse racing nation outside our own) which benefits us both. To risk sabotaging that and isolating British racing from Europe is not a risk worth taking. And if it were – for what gain?

There is nothing wrong with Champions’ Day. It is one of the best day’s racing of the year. It may not quite match Arc Day, but, it is not meant to and in any case is an entirely different entity. Maybe it could be improved with the inclusion of the Dewhurst (is it really sensible or desirable to run the Dewhurst and the Middle Park on the same card?) but that is a matter for the race-planners.

While on the subject of Champions’ Day – what about that £10,000 fine for James Doyle after the big race itself? Maybe it is about time we reconsidered the whip rules. Instead of having a predetermined admissible number of whip strokes, maybe the stewards should use their discretion and only penalise jockeys they feel have transgressed the rules of acceptable behaviour.

Did anyone really feel Doyle had been cruel to Noble Mission? Ask anyone at Ascot that witnessed one of the finishes of the season; ask Lady Cecil, Prince Khalid Abdullah, George Baker on the runner-up who was so quick to acknowledge the feat Doyle had accomplished, even Noble Mission himself – who will now have his pick of the best mares and fillies available to him on a regular basis – and a pound to a penny they would all deny any wrongdoing had taken place and that racing’s reputation had been compromised.