Life As I Know It (29 page)

‘You rode a Group 1 winner for him,' Dr Turf notes.

‘Yes, Allez Wonder,' I say.

‘She was your first ride in the Melbourne Cup. Tell us about the nerves that day, or today; or is it just a matter of going through your usual routine?'

I explain how different I am feeling, as I only have to ride at 53 kilograms, and carrying just 50.5 kilograms with Allez Wonder my main focus then had been on getting down to the weight.

‘This time I've been able to enjoy it a lot more,' I say. ‘I'm feeling really good.'

Kevin Bartlett asks me if I will lead from barrier one, like I had in the Moonee Valley Cup. I laugh. I am happy to tell them precisely what I think I need to do to give Prince his best chance.

‘Unless they go ridiculously slow and I land in front, I'll be three, four or five pairs back, along the rail. I just have to get him to relax. And then bring him into the race at the right time so he has one last crack at them.'

Back in the jockeys' room I find all three internationals are calm, too. Even though I am already calm, they seem to make me more so. Not long to go. We chat. I am with three of the very best in the world and they are asking me questions.

‘Is this your first ride in the Cup?' They are so friendly. There is no frosty gamesmanship. They are just going to go out and jump on and give it their best.

In big races, when jockeys feel the pressure of the moment, the room goes quiet. In those last minutes before you go out to the mounting yard, to face your challenge, you are suddenly alone. I feel alone, not that I am alone. So many people have done so much to get Prince to this moment. I am the one who now has
the responsibility of giving Prince the best possible chance. The funny thing is, this responsibility does not feel like a burden. I don't feel nervous.

Coming out of the rooms I spot Stevie and Maddie walking Prince around the mounting yard. It is the first time I've seen Stevie today and he looks so proud of Prince, and so thrilled to be strapping a horse in the Melbourne Cup. He certainly has his game-face on; he looks serious and mature, but at the same time he is Little Boy to me.

The owners are in the mounting yard enclosure, too many of them to greet individually, but I say, ‘Hey, how're you all going?' We stand around together.

Peter Ellis is there and he runs through his thoughts for the owners' benefit, and I add mine, but basically it has all been discussed earlier and we are letting everyone know how we hope things will work out. I also have a look at Deane Lester's speed map and his view of how the field will settle in the running. It is almost the same as Peter's. I feel great confidence in those around me.

All of Prince's owners are completely rapt to be in the owners' enclosure at the Melbourne Cup, with
their
horse racing against the best in the world in our greatest race. Who wouldn't be proud! I think they are all pinching themselves that they have a horse in the Cup, especially the first timers. Even Sandy, who finished fourth in last year's Cup, seems excited.

‘If we're in a position where we're a chance of winning, I'm just going to make sure I wait long enough so I don't go too early, and let's just hope for some luck and basically go out there confident we can give our very best,' I tell them.

They tell me to enjoy myself and ask me to try to run in the top ten! I am more hopeful than that.

I see Darren just before getting on Prince. He tends to stand back a bit, and leaves the owners to Peter and me—but he is funny.
When he thinks he has a good chance in a race, he can get a bit on edge but he is way more nervous today than I've ever seen him before. I have a little smile to myself and think, thank God I'm feeling calm, he'd have tipped me over the edge!

‘Should work out perfect, what do you think?' I say to him.

Looking down at Peter's speed map, he says, ‘Just stay on the back of Max Dynamite and Criterion for as long as you can, and try and run in the top ten.'

There is a pause.

‘What do you think? Should work out perfect,' he says.

‘Yeah, I think the same,' I reply.

I smile and agree.

We were both itching to say it.

‘What do you think are our chances?' I ask.

‘What do you think?' he throws back at me.

I have to say what I am really thinking.

‘I think he'll run top five.'

‘So do I,' he says.

And I reckon Darren Weir believes it.

The mounting yard is crowded. I weave my way through owners and horse trainers and officials. Some jockeys are already up. Stevie and Maddie are leading Prince around on the grass. Prince, you look magnificent. How can you be one hundred to one?

Stevie is with Prince, concentrating hard.

‘Hey, buddy, how ya going?' I ask him. It's the first time I've talked to him.

‘Good, thanks.'

‘Whaddya reckon?'

‘Yeah, bloody good,' Stevie says earnestly. ‘Nice and relaxed.'

‘He
is
nice and relaxed,' I say to him and Maddie.

‘He's been good,' Maddie says. ‘Couldn't be happier with him. Darren's nervous, though.'

Darren comes over.

‘Gee, he's relaxed,' he says.

‘Sure is.'

‘Looks great.'

He usually doesn't give much away but I can tell how much this means to him.

‘It should work out perfect,' he says, as he legs me up. ‘Good luck!'

We leave Darren at the mounting yard, and Stevie and Maddie lead me and Prince down the path, along the famous Flemington roses walk, out to the track. People are already going crazy, yelling, screaming, whistling. Some revellers are aware, some not so. It's noisy-party mode. I frown at them.

‘Shhh! Shhh!' I am worried about Prince reacting.

‘Shhh!' I don't want Prince throwing his head around. Once he's fired up it's very hard to settle him down. The yahoos keep yahooing. But thankfully he handles it pretty well.

‘Good luck,' Maddie says. Stevie usually wishes me good luck as well, but he breaks from his routine.

‘Don't get beat,' he says, ‘I've got my money on you.' That makes me smile. He had $10 each way.

Once Prince steps out onto the track he is perfect. I get him moving. He is such a naturally athletic horse he doesn't take much warming up. He's loose from the start, so a bit of a canter and he's right. He rolls back up the straight, head down, as quiet and as relaxed as he could be. He is in absolutely perfect condition heading down to the start for his grand final. A true testament to Darren and his team to have him peaking but relaxed for our greatest race! I can't believe it is falling into place so perfectly. It all feels right.

Margie already has her position in the stand. She claimed it early, as she does. Cathy and Maree are in the mounting yard in the first place stall, funnily enough. Patrick is at home on his farm in Plumpton. Therese is at home in Essendon North with her kids and the next-door neighbour. Dad is at Home on his own. Andrew is watching with Jacq and Karl at their place but I think they are going straight to Dad's after, living as they do just five minutes away. Bernadette is in the members' stand with some friends. The Loreto girls are dotted all over the place: Stephanie in the car park; Stacey in a marquee; Liz and Jackie somewhere.

Glen Darrington, a former jockey and now one of the barrier attendants, will be loading us into barrier one. He leads us around a bit and gives me a bottle of water. I have a few sips, wetting my mouth, which is pretty dry, spitting most of it out so I don't put on any weight but allowing a little bit to trickle down my throat. Snowy, another barrier guy who always looks after me so well, wishes me good luck as we walk around waiting to be called up. Prince is still really relaxed. I ask Corey Mallyon, one of the starters, if I can get a man back up with me before we jump. Just to make sure I have Prince right as we have to wait till all the other horses are loaded.

‘No worries,' he says.

‘Michelle Payne: barrier one.' We are led in.

‘Frankie Dettori in two.'

Frankie comes in next to me on Max Dynamite. It's funny to be next to Frankie after meeting him in Dubai all those years ago and then on the platform at the Newmarket railway station a few years later. And here we are, side by side, in the barriers before the Melbourne Cup.

Racing can be so cut-throat, but in this moment, it is rather friendly. We are having a bit of a joke. Usually I'm so in the zone I won't say anything unnecessary to anyone, worried I am not concentrating enough.

João Moreira comes in on The United States in three, Michael Walker is then loaded on Criterion in barrier four, and Frankie and I are chatting away as if it is just another race.

‘Make sure you give yours a good ride,' I say, ‘coz I'm following you all the way.'

He smiles and gives a bit of a laugh.

‘What are you doing after the race?' he asks.

‘I told you before—I'm going to be celebrating. You coming?'

We have quite a wait for the twenty other horses to be loaded. It can be an issue if you have a fractious one but Prince is calm—and I am calm. Everything is silent for a moment. I think of Bart for a second. Then I think of my mother. I always feel like Mum's with me, looking after me.

Prince hasn't moved. He is standing straight. Nothing like Caulfield and Moonee Valley, when he was all over the place. I'm thinking maybe I don't want to upset him by getting a man up. If he gets a bit irritable before they jump and I miss it, I'll blame the man. Patrick is the same. He never wants to create an excuse.

As the horses are coming into the outside barriers I call out to the starter, Paul Didham, ‘Don't worry about a man, I'm all right.'

‘You sure?' he yells back.

‘Yep, he's right on his own.'

The last couple of horses go in and we are ready.

‘Are you right, Michelle?' Paul Didham calls. ‘Do you want a man?'

‘No, I think he's right.'

Prince feels like he is going to jump even though he is being really quiet.

‘All clear.'

Crash!

The gates open, and … he walks out like an old steeplechaser: just what I didn't want to happen.

I am cursing myself, which is not the best thing to be doing for the first few strides of a Melbourne Cup, especially when so many have done so much to get us to where we are. Unfortunately, where we are is three lengths behind the field. And in danger of losing the spot that was ours for the taking. Frankie has brought Max Dynamite straight across to the rail, no trouble at all, and now I have to make a decision: do I still hunt Prince up to get on the back of Max Dynamite?

Righto, I say to myself, I'll get him there, but I won't fire him up.

Yeah, sure.

I gotta give you a squeeze, Prince.

I click him up, and he goes forward. I haven't even heard the roar of the crowd. I am so focused on Max Dynamite and Frankie.

Michael Walker has Criterion across too. He's on the fence in front of Max Dynamite. From barrier five Tommy Berry has Trip to Paris one off the fence, outside Criterion.

I get Prince in behind Max and I'm concerned he's going to race fiercely. Coming onto the course proper Prince wants to throw his head around a bit, but he's not too bad. I'm telling myself to get my hands on his neck so he'll tuck his head down and relax. Easy, boy. He's not quite settled but now he's not throwing his head up in the air either.

There isn't a lot of speed going down the straight for the first time. If anything, the speed is slackening. I keep bringing him back under me.

The speed is still slackening. What are they doing up the front? But no one's copping any backwash; everyone has time to steady.

Round the corner and I have to bring him back again. He's getting strong. He wants to show us he's an athlete, a powerful athlete. But he needs to relax.

‘Hey, Prince,' I think, ‘hey, your time will come.'

I'm sitting on him, wishing the best for him and us and everyone. But I still can't get him to relax. He can sense the horses around him. He can hear them, feel them, even if he can't see them with his blinkers on. He's a competitor and he wants to race now, and I want him to wait. Up the back and he's wanting to race. But I've still got hold of him and he's in a rhythm and his breathing is fine.

I'm calm. And things are going to plan. Sort of.

Kerrin McEvoy is second, up outside the leader, and Brett Prebble is three wide outside me, on Bondi Beach. I look across. Damn it. Brett's got Bondi Beach switched off, totally relaxed. And I'm pulling.

Forget about them. Forget about them all. Run your own race. Prince and me.

I'm doing my very best to stop Prince from racing too keenly. As I sit there, all muscles straining, I am grateful for all the training I have done for this day. It's all come to the fore. I can do this! He's still in a rhythm. He's not reefing and tearing. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.