Life As I Know It (21 page)

Prince of Penzance was foaled in November 2009 at Rich Hill Stud in Matamata in the Waikato region of New Zealand's North Island. He was offered at the Karaka Yearling Sales that summer. Highly respected Australian bloodstock agent John Foote, son of the legendary Queensland racing figure Loftus Foote, liked his breeding, and the look of him. Prince's sire is Pentire and his dam Royal Successor, so he was bred to stay. He was purchased for $50,000 for D.K. Weir. Darren then set about syndicating him.

Over the last decades racing syndicates have become more and more popular, which has altered the face of racing in Australia. For many years it was considered the domain of the wealthy and rather inaccessible. But that didn't stop small-time owners (like my dad, really) from trying. However, in spreading the cost, syndication has brought so many people inside of racing and that means the culture of racing is all the richer for it. You meet good people in racing. The friendships are long lasting, whether they are the result of success or struggle. Being one of the connections of a winner is such a thrill. I see it all the time.

As one of the initiators Sandy McGregor took a share, even if the shares in six horses was going to stretch the family budget. He took 25 per cent. John Richards, another long-time client of Darren's and friend of Sandy's—everyone seems to know each other—took another 25 per cent for his Galadi Holdings. The remaining 50 per cent of Prince was divided into five shares.

Winning Five is headed up by Arthur Rickard and includes his daughters Susan Cahill and Jenny Monks, Darren Lonsdale and his family, and Mark Hall. Arthur bought a share because one day at the races he saw Darren in the distance.

‘Hey, Weiry,' he yelled. ‘Have you got a decent bloody horse for me before I cark it?'

‘Yeah, mate,' Darren yelled back. ‘I'll send you some info.' And he did!

Men in Hats, a group of thirty-something blokes, some of who went to school together at Luther College in Croydon, an outer eastern suburb of Melbourne, also bought a share. The Men, Sam Brown, Tim Ashford, Greg Williams, Scott Jenke, Mike Botting and Adrian Brown, put some cash together to race horses. Prince was their last roll of the dice.

Andrew Broadfoot, a Melbourne barrister, has a share, as do Wilawl Go Racing, including Pam, David, Andrew, Michael and Stephen Wilson, and Neil and Ken Laws. Stephen is corporate affairs manager at the Gold Coast Football Club, so the Suns would have had a very big Cup Day if they'd copped the tip. Dalton Racing is brothers Joe Dalton (of Dalton Concrete Constructions), Jonathon Dalton and Bruce Dalton, a solicitor in Bundaberg, and they own another share.

The diversity of locations and occupations of the owners connected Prince to people all over the country. I have met most of the owners. I know John Richards very well. He has been a wonderful supporter of mine. Like many of Darren's early owners, John is from the bush, a lovely little town called St Arnaud, northeast of Stawell. He has a very successful farm machinery business, Goldacres, which manufactures sprayers for all different types of agricultural uses. They are used by farmers all over Australia. His father had sold farm equipment from a St Arnaud depot, and died when John was twenty-three. John developed the sprayers and they
have been highly regarded for decades. He bought his first horse at twenty-eight and fell in love with racing. He will tell you that he's learned as he's gone along—not unlike Darren Weir.

Not long after the Pentire colt arrived from New Zealand, Sandy and John were at lunch discussing the progress of their younger horses. Usually they are given appropriate nicknames. Really, a horse is a pet and you become very familiar with them, and close to them. There's no need for formality. The colt was being called ‘Success' because his dam is Royal Successor, and that became his stable name. They decided the colt's racing name was going to be Prince of Penzance. And they also had to decide what colours the syndicate should use, so they tossed for it. Sandy won. The McGregor family colours were chosen.

That meant John Richards, theoretically, got to choose the jockey. Because I was riding for Darren quite a bit, I was in the mix. But at that stage Prince was just another horse, checked out by the vets like any other horse, pre-trained like any other horse, just going through the preparations so he was ready to race. Who would know where he'd end up?

After impressing everyone in his trial at Colac, Prince was ready for his debut. His first start was at Stawell, which was nice, given how much Stawell means to Sandy and his family, and Darren, who started out there. It still has a feeling of home for them. Because I had ridden him at the trial, and had been riding him in trackwork, Darren gave me the ride.

Horses have to learn about racing and this can take some time. They need to get comfortable with being floated to a new track, with being in unfamiliar surrounds and with other horses, some of which are highly strung and tense on the day. They need to learn the routine of being boxed, saddled and taken to the mounting yard. Being walked around in front of people. The bigger the crowd, the more agitated they might be, until they get used to it.

Prince was a fiery character. We decided we needed to ease him in gently, to give him a good first-day experience so that he didn't resent what was happening to him, in the hope he might grow to like it. He was being difficult, playing up in the mounting yard, and generally not happy. I was in the maroon and white colours of the stable, rather than Sandy's colours. As he legged me up Darren asked me not to be too hard on him, and his final words were, ‘I think he's going to go really well.'

I got Prince around to the barrier and he went in without a problem. He was slowly away, settled last, tracked through on the inside and then I got him to the outside and he finished strongly to win. For the first-time owners it was suddenly one of the great days of their lives—for the veterans it was a maiden win at Stawell. He'd done enough. Yes, I thought, there was no doubt he was handy.

Back in his box Prince was grumpy. He was kicking, pawing at the ground, biting the tie-up and generally being a bastard. For a long time no one could settle him down. Podge, who works with Darren, had a go, but no luck. Finally Darren came to have a look. You could tell Prince had spotted him. With a slightly cupped hand, Darren gave him a smack on the neck. It made a big noise and Prince went quiet. That was Darren's knack. No horse ever beat Darren Weir.

Prince wasn't finished, though. He waited for Darren to disappear and, once he was out of sight, he started again. He was so agitated he had to be led to an enclosed box so he didn't damage himself. We could hear him kicking away and I thought at least he has some fight in him.

His second start was at Donald. I was returning to the track where I had been lucky enough not to break my neck. This time I was in the McGregor colours. I settled last again and he raced comfortably. As I was bringing him into the race the favourite sustained an injury and dropped back through the field. I copped
severe interference, which cost us a few lengths and our momentum. Prince picked up again and charged home for an unlucky third. On paper, that run made him no world-beater—third in a lowly rated race at Donald—but the signs were positive.

I led on him at his next start at Ballarat. It had been our intention to settle off the pace but as I brought him across to the fence he just landed in front, put his head down and settled nicely. Because Darren knew he was going to be a stayer he didn't want him to learn to get to the front but sometimes these things just happen. I took control of Prince and he responded and came back underneath me, and I really slowed the pace so when he kicked away, nothing was going to make ground on him. He won by three lengths but could have won by ten had I let him go flat out. He had a tendency to look around so I thought blinkers might suit him.

Darren thought he was ready for a metropolitan start so he was nominated for a 1800-metre three-year-old race at Caulfield. There were some good horses in the race—Backstedt for David Hayes, and Magnapal, who went on to run in a Caulfield Cup for the O'Sullivans. Prince had blinkers on for the first time and the idea was to ride him a bit more forward and hold a position that suits Caulfield. But he got back and was a little caught in traffic until I got him out at the 300. By the time he was revved up and asked to quicken, the leaders had dashed clear. Then, with 120 metres to go, he just took off and flew at them. He missed by a nose, which was a touch disappointing, but I was starting to think that, yes, we had a really good racehorse, and he seemed to be responding to me.

The new owners were already talking about the big races. The good three-year-old races weren't out of the question but he'd only had four starts and he was just starting to learn. Being a fiery type, it was going to take Prince a while to relax. Darren placed
him in a 2000-metre race for three-year-olds at Flemington in early May. If he impressed again, Darren would take him to the Queensland Derby.

While Prince was finding his feet, I was also riding my little mate Yosei. She was set to return in Adelaide in a lead-up race to the Goodwood Handicap. While I was out with the Julinsky injury, Michael Rodd had ridden her to a fourth placing in the Emirates Stakes at Flemington, and then in Perth in the Railway Stakes, before she was sent for a spell.

On the plane going over to Adelaide to ride Yosei in the Robert Sangster—funny to be riding in a race named after the man who bought Our Paddy Boy—I got chatting with John Richards, who was going there with the Weir camp to watch his mare Lake Sententia. He had watched on in admiration as Darren blossomed as a trainer. It was the first time we'd had a chance to have a decent chat. He seemed like a really lovely guy. He was in his sixties and had been successful in pretty much everything he'd done.

Brad Rawiller had ridden Lake Sententia for luck in her previous start, trying to find a clear path through the middle of the field at Flemington, and finished second, and John did not ask Brad to ride the horse again.

‘You can't ride 'em for luck,' he said. ‘That wasn't Brad's best ride.'

‘I thought it was a good ride,' I said, defending Brad. ‘She doesn't finish second unless he rides for luck.' John and I didn't know each other very well then, but I wasn't concerned, even though I knew he had a share of Prince. Surely people can state their case in a rational discussion.

‘I'd much rather my horse comes to the outside. I'd rather it finished fifth down the outside than be ridden for luck.' John was adamant. But I think he worked out that I would always hold my ground, too.

Ben Melham rode Lake Sententia that day in Adelaide, and came third. Funnily enough Brad won the race. After that, John gave me a go on Lake Sententia and we won. That's always good for a relationship. And then she won again. That was even better. Since then we have combined many times, for some nice results.

John runs the Galadi syndicate, which is sometimes part of other syndicates, as it was with Prince. But he always has a few on the go. He hadn't paid much attention to Prince at that time—he was just another young horse learning the caper—but he hoped he'd turn into a good stayer.

Yosei ran third in the Sangster at twenty-five to one. She was such a gutsy thing. Stuey was going to take her back to the Goodwood Handicap, one of Adelaide's biggest races, a fortnight later. These were good times for me. Spirits were high.

In the interim, we ran Prince in the 2000-metre race at Flemington. I tried to hold a slightly closer position on Prince this time without hopefully firing him up. Approaching the 1400-metre mark, when the pace slackened I was in a bit of trouble. Prince became really fired up with the blinkers on and over-raced badly. He was pulling and throwing his head around all over the place. I did my best to settle him but he had wasted so much energy I thought we'd blown our chances.

As we approached the straight I'd got on to the back of Saint or Sinner. His run had been beautifully timed by jockey James Winks but, remarkably, Prince had plenty left. Although Saint or Sinner shot four lengths clear, Prince put in a huge run. He just pinned his ears back and charged out after him and won by a head. It was phenomenal, made all the more so by the fact that Saint or Sinner shifted out and we were checked. Sam Hyland came over shaking his head.

‘What about that!' he said. He'd been watching Prince because he is a good mate of Sandy's and because Prince's antics were the
principal feature in the middle of the race. You couldn't help but notice it.

‘Horses just don't do that,' he said.

‘I know. That's what I've been saying,' I said.

Back in the rooms, watching the replay, we all stood there shaking our heads and almost laughing. Even Darren was surprised.

‘That's ridiculous,' he said.

Prince was good enough to go to Brisbane and on that performance we knew he'd give the Queensland Derby a real shake. It was the first indication that he had inner strength. Then and there I thought, he's a Melbourne Cup horse.