Well, it’s Spring in Melbourne and the great racing Carnival is on and thus far I have my nose in front of the satchel swingers which is largely a consequence of my betting prowess in Sydney as opposed to Melbourne. Fair dinkum, I may as well donate the money I bet on Melbourne races to the Salvos.
Enough of that. Fortunately I didn’t have a bet today on Oaks Day but I enjoyed a couple of Abbotts longnecks and rolled a Capstan Ready Rubbed and commenced to muse on a few things.
Firstly, I wondered when Donald might make the call he promised which will end the war in Ukraine and then I started to contemplate how Albo was actually going to ban social media for kids. Both of these thoughts put my empty head into a spin and then I mused on an email from a travel agent today. Very helpful and good at his job but on the last email, I glanced at his title and lo and behold he is not a travel agent he is a Journey Designer. Seriously you couldn’t make that up and from hereon in I think all plumbers need to upgrade their titles to Scientific Shit Shifters.
I really mourn the loss of John Clarke. He would create satirical havoc with this palava and so much more of what goes on in modern society. But then again, which media outlet would air his work?
I digress. My mind then moved to more pleasant things and I mused on Derby Day in the Country or, for the uneducated, Wycheproof Cup Day.
After many years of sponsoring the time-honoured Hayden Kelly Benchmark 52 Handicap, which has been won by some seriously good steeds (whose names escape me), I finally decided to venture up and see what all the fuss is about. Left early on Saturday morning with my mate Robert Kent on board.
It was a bit of a flashback for us as we went to many bush meetings together following horses we had shares in, particularly our first horse, Drizzle, who at around his tenth start finished twelfth of thirteen in a Gunbower Maiden. He did run third at Geelong and the apprentice who rode him, Brenton Avdulla, said ‘he has ability he needs his breathing fixed ‘. Not sure why, but we paid for a throat operation and Drizzle won seven races including two Magic Millions Stayers Cups when they were $200k races as compared to $1m today. Suffice to say Brenton and Drizzle went onto better things after that day at Geelong.
The Calder Highway is a good run, given it’s a Victorian road, devoid of potholes compared to the Hume and the Western Highways. The older you get the more you think of simpler times. Before Ivan Milat took centre stage, hitch-hiking from Melbourne to Wycheproof as a young bloke was just something you did in the early `70s if you didn’t have a car. Train into Flinders Street, train to Essendon and tram to the top of Keilor Road in Niddrie which became the Calder Highway. Thumb out and it usually was three or four lifts and perhaps five hours to do the trip as against three and a half hours direct. I did it several times and only had one scary ride. A couple of young blokes picked me up in Niddrie and said they were on their way to Bendigo and they would drop me at the Ravenwood turn off. All good. The boyos were driving a near new GT Falcon and on reflection they were either test driving for Allan Moffatt or on their way to rob a bank. I suspect the latter. Now a young bloke thrashing a GT Falcon isn’t necessarily a safe ride but it gets decidedly more precarious when he and his co-pilot are passing a bottle of whisky between them at 10.30 in the morning. The front seat conversation included comparing the quality of the food at various prisons which probably ruled out they were test driving for Allan. By the time we closed in on Ravenswood they were into their second bottle. At my behest, they braked heavily and slid 100 yards past the turn off to Midura. Very kindly, they decided to test how fast they GT would go in reverse to get me back to the turn off and I complimented them on their driving skills as I got out and they hurried off to whatever mischief they were contemplating.
Stop at Charlton. Check into the Motel and travel to Wycheproof with friends Kim and Peter Boyles who have made a bush change from Melbourne to Charlton and loving every minute of it. I could have been at Flemington at the Derby [great racing day] rubbing shoulders with 90,000 people a lot of whom are wouldbes, couldbes and never wases and I could have taken two hours to find transport after leaving the course and I could have waited patiently outside a toilet occupied by a young bloke sniffing white powder off the toilet seat [probably flour] to make his day better. I could have been in a suit and tie. But I wasn’t I was at Wyche on Derby Day and I was in shorts and a shirt.
Now to be honest I didn’t go into this with much expectation, albeit I was looking forward to catching up with people I hadn’t seen for a long time and I guess the Wyche dynamo Jackie Noonan eventually wore me down. Well, how wrong was I. I did enjoy access to the sponsors area where the food and drinks flowed if you wanted and I hasten to add I didn’t partake of much of the latter. I reckon there were 3000 people on course which in VFA crowd terms would be 5000. Plenty of room to move and lots of food of all varieties on offer, band playing at the top of the straight and lots of kids activities including races down the straight after the last race. Mini marquees all the way down the straight occupied by locals and expats who can bring their own food but not alcohol and there was even a Gin Bar. God forbid, when I was a kid selling racebooks at Wycheproof, the publicans’ booth sold beer for the men and sweet sherry for the ladies, end of story.
Given my involvement with the Keilor Gift, I know how many volunteer hours are required to pull a Community Event together and I can only wonder how many hours go into pulling the Wyche Cup together. A marvellous effort from such a small community and to see so many salt of the earth people of all ages enjoying themselves without a hint of trouble made for a great day and may well it continue. The time-honoured Hayden Kelly handicap will remain on the program and I will be back there next year.
On the racing front Rick McIntosh called his twentieth Cup but didn’t echo Warrnambool by yelling ‘how good is Wyche ‘ as they sprinted for home in the Cup. Cousin Austy won the Cup with Bannerton and I didn’t back it. Bannerton is owned by a couple of Italian fruit growers from Robinvale who were delighted with the win. They looked like they didn’t have two bob to rub together but the President Kevin ‘Fly’ Thompson in a typical Mallee understated way told me they could buy and sell the lot if us. I did have a beer with Austy after the meeting before Cousin Harry rudely interrupted calling from Sydney Airport.
No doubt Manangatang and Gunbower et al are just as good and if the authorities in the ivory towers who purport to run racing ever consider closing these clubs, not only will they lose a potential audience, they will rip the guts out of these towns. These meetings, put simply, are a great day to enjoy the good things in life.
That’s all
The Muse
Read more, including some terrific memoir, from Drizzle (The Muse) HERE
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