The comments I received from Aussie racing fans regarding my racing column have left me quite upset.
With numerous years of racing experience across the globe, I can confidently say that England offers the finest racing in the world.
The grandeur of Ascot, the vastness of Goodwood, the frigid weather at Catterick (where there are more cows than spectators and bookies leave halfway through the meeting), the steep ascents at Epsom that give horses a nosebleed, the historic ambiance of York, and the windy shores of Brighton—all contribute to England’s stature as the best racing destination worldwide.
It’s peculiar, then, that Australia, where the tracks tend to look alike, produces some of the finest jockeys. Consider Hugh Bowman, Luke Nolen, and Craig Williams…there are many more, but these individuals stand out above the rest.
Over the last fifty years, Australians have dominated all major races in England.
If the draw is unfavorable here, the jockey is blamed for failing to win.
It’s not viewed as an issue to start from so far off the rails that binoculars are required to navigate the course. It’s no surprise that resilience is a necessity on country tracks.
Snakes and spiders can sprint just as quickly as shorter jockeys.
Other nations have attempted to rival the English. For instance, France’s premier race, the Arc or something, takes place in winter when all respected English horses are donning their winter warmers.
While Americans are willing to invest in large races, the quality doesn’t match up.
To compete in the Melbourne Cup, foreign horses need to acclimatize by arriving a year in advance. My firsthand experience indicates that English horses paired with Aussie jockeys on English tracks represent the pinnacle of racing.
During a recent trip to Pommie-Land, I indulged in cream teas at Devon races, experienced a bandaged leg at Uttoxeter (one of the most perilous tracks), required an interpreter at Aintree (Scouse can be quite challenging to grasp), enjoyed a bus journey to the Bladen races (Newcastle), braved a windy seaside race at Folkestone, and of course, visited the racing mecca with its long straight at Newmarket.
I eagerly anticipated returning to Mumbai, where racing is more genteel. Donkeys for young riders, camels for the adventurous, and horses for dinner (just kidding).
If any of my dear readers are offended, please feel free to tell your friends.
Next time, I will be back to discuss my favorite sport…which, of course, is Indian cricket.
The South Africans seem strong, but where do they stash their deck chairs?
I have faith in Ponting; he truly is one of the greats…I believe he honed his skills in India.
Chai time.
by Rahndi Ghit
