October 8, 2009 at 23:05 #12858The Eye Of SauronParticipant
- Total Posts 148
The prize is for the person who best replicates Uncle Al’s annual "Welcome Back To The Jumps Piece" that is just itching to get out of his laptop as we speak..
Here’s my effort- done over the lunch hour today, so apologies for the crumbs…
Greatest racehorse ever?
Probably. Unless you put an obstacle or twelve in front of him- then I might cavil- but anyway, I digress.
I am, of course, talking about Sea The Stars, whose Arc win will forever confirm my suspicions that John Hunt is a castrato in denial.
He may even be the greatest horse since Dancing Brave or Mill Reef, but I pity him. All he has to look forward to is 20 or so years of shagging the best-looking girls in the class (which as he’s only 3, ought to invite some attention from Social Services, but we’ll gloss over that and move on…)
But let’s face it, Longchamp may be a mighty fine polished marble counter on which to cash in those multi-million dollar genes. But…
….the real business of the week begins at Chepstow on Saturday. But we know that don’t we?
Yes- it’s the return of what internet bores refer to as “Proper Racing”. Try as I might, I cannot dredge up another new cliché with which to pepper my annual Racing Post “The Jumps Are Back” piece. So- The Return of Proper Racing it must be.
All that needs to be said is this: when you are sated with the smoked-salmon titillation that is Royal Ascot; when you are gorged on the Pimms and Factor 56 of Goodwood- and when you are the victim of various offences committed under sections 2-4 of the Public Order Act 1986 at any Haydock evening meeting you care to mention- you await the jumpers with the longing that comes from forced absence.
So, when all the Al-Murrays, the Haafd-Cuts, and the Bin-Dippers, who blazed brightly across the Flat firmament this summer, have gone off to a life of pampering -interspersed with occasional copulation (I wish!), then the hoary old chestnuts hove back into view, like trusty old retainers. Sound in wind and limb, but another year older and wiser.
As solid and reliable as a ploughman’s lunch in a Wiltshire pub, here they come! Ready to run for their lives at Fakenham, Wincanton, Fontwell and all points east. Brave warriors. Slow but recognisable, honest yeomans of the fold.
Then there are the champions- mainly denizens of Ditcheat pro tem- who thrill and enthral, who rise and fall, those who light up the gloom on a soggy Saturday.
[Bruce- is that enough; if not can you cut and paste my piece from 2006? BTW, I might have Cavalryman for the Triumph if you can get me a pair of gelding irons…Cheers, Al…]
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