Orville Taylor | Horsing around with time

Sometimes one has to pay full attention to the ‘neigh sayers’, saddle up, stay on the rails, massage the neck of the filly and gently nudge her past the post, while other men dressed in pretty silk tops, look at her rear. At times, when one is on a canter, the threat of a heavy breathing stallion gaining ground is not minimised by the fact that he is a gelding. A gentle hand is generally the best means to prevent her from breaking her stride. However, occasionally, one has to crack the whip, to remind her that she needs to not slack off or be distracted by the testosterone-laden male, which, unlike the clipped competitor, is capable of going nuts over her.

With only the rediffusion set and later, a six-battery transistor radio to listen to, horse racing was something I totally loved growing up. No! My father always told me about the vices of gambling and never having any money to bet; it was simply a sport and enjoyment. For others, it is a business and even for some pensioners, it is the only livelihood they have left.

Arthur Sharpe, Richard Depass, Winston Ellis, George Hosang, Charles Hussey and many other jockeys entertained on Saturdays, while I did chores or homework. Before Chris Armond, there was Del Weller and others, doing commentary. Eileen Cliggott, Kenneth Mattis, and Aston Cammock were some of the legendary trainers.

Papacito was a favourite, but I loved Piccolo Pete, both from the Zaleucus bloodline, and Monte Stitch, from Claremont and Stylish Needle. Add reprieve and Hillsdown too. My friend, Carlton, still teases me about Edith Piaff. Imagine naming a dumb mammal after one of the greatest French singers ever.

Over the years, the trainers have had some great advocates, the jockeys too, but except for an ignoramus speaking with authority; the voice of the horse head is never heard. Almost 50 years later, the memory of Jimmy the Greek, lying dead on the track, featured on The Gleaner’s sport page, still haunts. Someone didn’t care enough about the donkey’s cousin. But of course, the more intelligent jackass, better endowed in many ways than his equine cousin, declared that “the world nuh level”.

A popular song in the 1960s, Long Shot Kick the Bucket, was about a horse who died. Then None Such followed suit. When a horse dies, it is a loss to the owner. Only a few horses are stud material.

ALL ABOUT THE HORSES

Let this soak in. No one goes to Caymanas Park to watch the stewards run. As pretty as their blouse looking tops are, not one soul goes to see the jockeys. And certainly, nobody is interested in getting a glimpse at any of the people from Supreme Ventures Racing and Entertainment Limited (SVREL). It is all about the horses. Simple! Without the horses; there is nothing. Just like the World Athletics Relays, which started yesterday, it is about the ‘athletes’ on the track.

Trust me, horses, being mammals, share around 85 per cent of our DNA. So, we can’t play the ass with them.

On two Saturdays ago, although Rule 44 (iii) speaks to a maximum five-minute delay, two races were cancelled by the Jamaica Racing Commission (JRC) after being late for 20 and 25 minutes, respectively. If ignorance is bliss; then there is a ton load of happy people watching and talking. On the surface, it looks like the JRC ‘flexing its muscles,’ to curb what seems like a culture of tardiness with impunity. But even so, from a strict disciplinary point of view, why cannot races, with a total of fewer than 200 animals, be as efficiently run and as punctual as SVREL’s flagship product, the Lotto. Neither the Olympics, World Cup, the News, the swearing-in of the prime minister, nor national awards can postpone any draw. No tomfoolery; but the information is that there had been numerous public announcements at the track, and the promoters were reminded at five-minute intervals minutes before and after published post times, that races could possibly be abandoned. Sixty races since April Fools’ Day is abundant discretion before abandon.

Donkeys know the proverb about the last straw breaking the horse’s back.

MAJOR IMPASSE

Still, the economic fallout of the decision is yet to be fully determined. However, it created a major impasse which, thankfully, the minister of finance was able to mediate. Horse racing is big business, generating $14.38 billion in 2022. With a large number of persons dependent on the industry, the finance minister can ill afford to see any significant decline of economic activity, even for a very short period. Certainly, despite the overall amount of taxes it generates for the government and the quantity of money it moves around in the domestic market, I am yet unconvinced about the total impact on our foreign exchange earnings.

Explanations from the JRC is that the decision was based on the welfare of the animals. Suggesting that the habitual delays in setting off the races at the appropriate time were not only bad organisation of business but, more importantly, hazardous to the health of the animals.

According to Clovis Metcalfe, chairman of the JRC, horses are administered Lasix, a drug which minimises bleeding, with a maximum effective window of 4.5 hours. Its efficacy, once diminished, risks the health of the animal and, by extension, the jockeys. It does sound like a very convincing reason, and that the race organisers, habitually living on borrowed time and were gambling on the laxity and discretion of the JRC. Well, ‘bet buss!’

Rather amusingly, some defenders of the tardiness argue that delayed betting allows for more persons to cast their bet. Try that with Lotto!

All is well that ends well, and my bet is that they will be more punctual in the future; because they ‘met calf’ who stopped the ‘bull’

Dr Orville Taylor is senior lecturer at the Department of Sociology at The University of the West Indies, a radio talk-show host, and author of ‘Broken Promises, Hearts and Pockets’. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and tayloronblackline@hotmail.com