THE OLD TIMERS

The Kingdom of The Old Timers
(L to R) Amphitheatre, Senor Santa, Hear The Drums and Vangelis
(Photo : Leigh Willson)

“Senor Santa, Hear The Drums,
Amphitheatre and Vangelis”

Racehorses are explosive, hot-blooded creatures. That’s the way we’ve moulded them: imposing, powerful, fast; very fast, some of them, and because of it, prone to brittleness; noble; intelligent, yet when they’re startled, alarmingly implacable.

Horsemen will tell you, they’re like elephants when it comes to memory, with little faith in the unknown. If they trust you though, they’ll take on the world for you, even a brick wall.

You don’t own their trust, you earn it, and we start that process here the moment they’re born. First impressions come from their mums as well as their handlers, and if you’re wanting sensible, uncomplicated racehorses, you’d better have sensible, uncomplicated staff. Problem is, gestation in the thoroughbred is an extended affair, and the next child needs everything the mother can give. At five months, it’s time for separation, for the mare to concentrate her resources on the foal she’s carrying, and for someone to take over as role-model. That’s where the “Old Timers” come in.

Without wishing to distract you, we should start with a confession. We’re victims of this disease for which there is no cure. For us, horses are not so much a way of making a living; they’re a way of life. We revere our champions, we admire our battlers, and they’re as heroic to us as Patrick Lambie is to the Sharks and Francois Hougaard is to the Bulls. For those that’ve upheld the name, that brought home the silver from the Championships, there’s a place in the heavens when their racing days are over. They come home to mentor the kids, they step up in place of the “mums” when the weaning takes place; they are the providers of wisdom and decorum, the pacifiers and the high priests, and just occasionally, they’ll show the youngsters what made them as good as they were.

To give you an idea of what they’re taking on, allow us to paint you a picture. Summerhill is home to some of the nation’s most celebrated broodmares, some of them famous racehorses, others exceptional producers, the odd one a bit of both. Some years back, at one time, our paddocks were populated by the only two Durban July-winning mares since Migraine in 1957. Besides Devon Air and Tecla Bluff, we housed the July hero, Royal Chalice’s mum, champions Up The Creek and En Avant, and Argentinean Horse of the Year, Tostada. They were used to people coming to visit; it happened every other day. There was no thought of knocking you over either, as some of them used to do at the races, when the commentators used to say “she just went whoosh”.

In early autumn, these Ladies of the Valley stand with their foals in rolling paddocks of yellowing grass that sways like an ocean swell, in the north westerly breezes that do their best to suck the last of the summer moisture out of the land. They nicker to their foals, one of whom, a colt, has been testing the towbar on the feeding van, and is trying to establish whether the windscreen wiper is bolted on. When he comes over to his mother for a drink, she nips him on the rump to tell him he’s being rough on her udder. She looks you over with a big glassy eye. No suspicion, no fear: she was brought up at Summerhill. Again, no thought of knocking you over: she’s a picture of motherhood and contentment, but the little beast at her side, love him as she does, is becoming a touch tiresome. It’s time for the “Old Timers”.

Senor Santa loves this place. His looks and his demeanour tell you so. He wanders up, brushing his creamy hooves through the clover, head down, his eyes soft and benign, to ask you what you want. Tony Rivalland will tell you he was always like that, even as a juvenile. He’s twenty-seven now, and as relaxed as the former sheep shearer up at the foreman’s house. We don’t know about you, but we don’t remember a faster racehorse in our lifetime. “The Senor” is here because he was the best son of the most famous resident Summerhill has known. We remember the day he “rolled” the pride of the nation in the Computaform. Perhaps we should say “days,” because he did it again, and again.

He was always the picture of composure, unfussed by the circus pressing on the parade ring fence. We remember him swinging his great hips so that the imprint of his hind foot would land about 30 centimetres ahead of that left by the front foot. Danehill did it like that, so did Sadler’s Wells, and those that do it this way usually have an unusually long stride at the gallop. But the truth about this game is that when horses win good races, they always look better to us watchers. We see things we didn’t when they were losing. We dismiss faults as trifling issues of cosmetics. There was so much to like about Senor Santa: he gave us many opportunities to see him this way.

When he’s not looking after the babies, he shares a meadow with some other old stalwarts. Hear The Drums won more races for Peter Fabricius than any other racehorse in history. To do that, he had to pass the record of Sentinel, another graduate of these historic pastures. Like The Senor, his forté was speed, buckets of it. Unlike The Senor, he hid it in spite of his engineering. But the sounds of his adoring fans are like distant drums these days: he now lives with greatness, where Senor Santa is the boss. The Senor suddenly bites him hard on the rump, leaving parallel marks like a railway line. “The Drummer” flinches, but he doesn’t retaliate. He lives with greatness, remember. And it comes with a price.

Alongside is Amphitheatre, an unwanted urchin of two sales rings. Nobody wanted him, even at R30,000. Under Charles Laird’s expert tuition, he earned a million and a half at a time when we needed it most. In 35 starts, he brought home 34 cheques, and the day he didn’t, he earned his place at Summerhill. Forever.

Across the way, head down and buried in the cocksfoot, is a younger, strikingly handsome pretender. At three weeks of age, Vangelis developed a lameness of chronic proportions. He was almost three before he showed any signs of being mounted, so he never knew the inside of the sales ring. At Summerhill, we don’t believe in the notion of the perfect specimen, but here is just about everything else we believe in when it comes to conformation: an intelligent head that speaks of a generous nature, the longest of reins, the big sloping shoulder, low knees and hocks, short cannons, a good length of body. It was these things that saved him, more than once, when his first trainer suggested he was fit only for the knackers’ yard. Gavin Smith did the rest.

In the end, he saved our racing budget, too, and in some respects, his millionaire status saved enough to buy us a chunk of a couple of stallions. That was enough to get him through the eye of the needle, into the “Kingdom of the Old Timers”.

www.summerhill.co.za

URBANE EVANS

Denis and Gael Evans
(Photo : Summerhill Stud)

“DENIS AND GAEL EVANS”

There are many facets to racing which differentiate it as a sport. Because it’s not a science, it’s embroiled in mystery and intrigue, and in some respects, it belongs to the insiders, those that sit on the horses, those that train them and those that groom them. These guys have an obvious advantage. They know those that quicken and those that don’t, those with heart and those without, those that fret and those that don’t. And of course, they have a line on the galloping companion.

Then there are the people. The fans, the owners, those that lay on the show, the punters in the stands and the millions in the totes, as well as the professionals, the breeders, the trainers and the jockeys. It’s a jigsaw of nations, a tapestry of professions, and a mosaic of colour. The rich and the not-so-rich, the patricians and the plebs. All can play, all can win.

Some weeks back, we ran a few articles on some of our longer serving customers. This is a profile of an urbane gentleman, a quiet man, a businessman, a man with an enduring love of the game. Denis Evans first came to racing some years ago; he volunteers, it wasn’t a great experience. He blames no-one, but he says this time he’s doing it properly. In a sense, he’s worked things out, and while he remains a considerable force in South African racing, he’s also identified the benefits of buying stock locally (the best value in the world), and travelling those with the gifts, to plunder the prizes in Singapore.

Racing came late to Denis Evans: he wasn’t born into it. He was an entrepreneur in the best old-fashioned sense of the word, and he was good at it. While he maintains a modest silence about his achievements, he is unable to escape the public knowledge of his generous funding of the extraordinary movie, Spud. His local trainers are Justin Snaith and Gavin Smith, while Pat Shaw does the job abroad. They’ve never been away from racecourses or horses, all are fully paid up members of what one observer called “The Closed Society”, the racing fraternity that gathers each morning on the tracks when normal people are in bed, a fellowship with its own language and humour, and an unwritten code of rules. These men have never known any other world, but they know theirs as well as anyone. Dinner table conversations in their homes when they were small boys, were all about horses. Photographs of horses look down on the family from the walls. Open the back door, and you smell soiled straw and fresh hay. They practiced their riding skills at 10 on the backs of sweet-natured ponies.

Evans has an engineer’s sense of precision, a mind that gravitates towards the objective and the rational. He likes finding out how things work, and then trying to make them work better. He likes to bring order and reason to complex matters, he’s a thorough man. He’s charming and quick to smile, but careful and guarded in his speech, as if he weighs every word, which he does. He’s pretty much what he seems to be. His trainers aren’t. They are rational and pragmatic too, but they hide those traits well, and in any case, they can only take you so far in racing; the inner man is hardly ever on show. Evans is scientific; his trainers have more than a touch of the artistic and the mystic, which is right enough, because they’re in the racehorse business, and racing isn’t scientific.

Denis Evans has had his share of luck at the races, and for the money he’s put down, he’s entitled to it. In some respects, his ambitions remain a little unfulfilled, particularly in the case of the multi-talented Run For It, whose promised so much but is yet to deliver the killer blow. On the other hand, in less than two seasons, Evans has tasted the mountain air in Singapore, and has emerged their top owner by number of winners. As the season closed, he counted 26 of them, and that was enough to edge his compatriot, Fred Crabbia, from the winner’s podium.

He’s had his moments of glory, and his horses run as if they know they owe. The adulation that follows a victory is not entirely Evans’ cup of tea. As always, when a big one comes home, the owner is engulfed. People shake his hands, pump his back, squeeze his elbows. He smiles and produces a white handkerchief; he’s a shy man. He briefly lifts his hands above his head, like winners are supposed to, but the gesture doesn’t come easily. It’s as though he’s embarrassed to be so lucky.

There are not enough Denis Evanses in this game, and he’s lucky to have Gael to share these moments with the same dignity, and an equal dollop of grace. We’re lucky to have them, too.

www.summerhill.co.za

WIN NUMBER 13 FOR VANGELIS

Click above to watch Vangelis making it win number 13…
(Image : Supplied - Footage : Tellytrack)

“THIS IS A GOOD OLD SONG”

And it’s well worth singing. We have a real old pal who’s ailing a bit at the moment, and can do with a tonic. Our relationship with Robert and Robin Muir goes back to Pat Goss’ Durban July celebration party in 1946, when the smallest horse in history, St Pauls, rolled his field in record time. Robin’s mother was the hostess at the Kew Hotel, for a victory party that raged for two days, and the fact the Muirs are patrons of Summerhill 65 years later, is testimony to the value of good friends.

On Thursday, our mutually owned seven-year-old gelding, Vangelis, came home for the 13^th time in his career, pushing his earnings ever closer to the million Rand mark. After five consecutive third places, this was a welcome turnaround and a compliment to the skills of his trainer, Gavin Smith.

There’s a tale attached to Vangelis however, as there is to most good horses. The day he was born, our Foalcare manager, T.K.Nkabinde, proclaimed him a “Derby winner”, and while you may say there have been many of those stories and that he didn’t win the Derby, he’s given us just as much pleasure as one which did. Long before he was weaned, Vangelis came up with a lame shoulder that plagued him for two years of his life, and we wondered whether he’d ever reach the racecourse. That he did, and he did it well, writing his record in black and white. His history of injury though, made him a difficult sell, and it took us close to his third year (he was still on the farm at that stage) to place him. Robert Muir was on safari in South Africa, and he took a couple days out to show his friends Summerhill and the delights of Hartford House.

On a typically fresh autumnal morning, he and his mates accompanied us to the track to watch some horses work, when Vangelis and a bright chestnut with a white blaze, by the name of Imbongi, worked together. They were equally impressive, and Robert indicated he’d like to invest in both.

Before he reached Durban on his return journey, he phoned to say that one of his advisors had suggested he leave the Russian Revival horse out of the package, and wondered if that would be in order. Of course it would be; we had no end of faith in Imbongi, and it wouldn’t be long before he was placed as well with another mate, erstwhile Jockey Club chair and ambassador extraordinaire, Ronnie Napier.

You now know Vangelis’ record, but it’s worth recording that Imbongi went on to become South Africa’s Champion Three-Year-Old Miler, he was a Group winner in the UK, and the victor ludorum at the Dubai Racing Carnival in 2010. His earnings stood beyond R8million at the point of his retirement last month.

There’s an adage in all of this. The likes of Emperor Napoleon, Bold Ellinore and Amphitheatre are a few more of those who were left behind on the farm after the sales, as was this week’s big hero, Black Wing. Who knows what bargains are lurking on our tracks as we write?

VANGELIS... IT’S MUSIC TO OUR EARS

Click above to watch Vangelis in the Fairview Mile
(Footage : Tellytrack)

FAIRVIEW MILE 2010

Music lovers have long been followers of the dulcet tones of the pop group Vangelis. Last Friday, the equine version destroyed a field of the East Cape’s best milers in the Fairview Mile, chalking up his 11^th career victory, for earnings of R628 125.

But our Vangelis’ story is somewhat different to the glamorous road the pop group have travelled on their way to the top. Vangelis the horse, was born as good as an example of the now-famous Kahal / Northern Guest cross, from an old Rondebosch family which counts Champion Stayer, Travel North among its members. Somewhere along the line, he suffered a traumatic injury to his shoulder, and he looked like a euthanaze case. He struggled manfully for more than a year, all the while growing into an imposing specimen of a horse. To put it mildly, it was hard for us to look at such a magnificent animal, knowing that in time, we might have to consider putting him out of his pain.

There are fairytales in our business though, in racing, as we all know, and there came a time when our resident vet, Dr. Allen Bechard decided to simply inject him and see if he could work through the pain. The rest is history. He responded magnificently, and one day, while on a visit to Summerhill, big owner Robert Muir was smitten by the horse’s appearance.

That he’s now won 11 times and placed in ten of his 25 starts, is not only a tribute to his own toughness, but it says something for the training skills of Gavin Smith and his team.

VANGELIS : FAIRVIEW MILE 2010 VIDEO

Click above to watch Vangelis in the Fairview Mile
(Footage : Tellytrack)

FAIRVIEW MILE (Non-Black Type)
FAIRVIEW 1600m
12 FEBRUARY 2010

VANGELIS (Kahal x Northern Singer by Northern Guest)
6 Year Old Bay Gelding
Owners : Mr and Mrs Robert Muir, Summerhill Stud Syndicate
Breeder : Summerhill Stud
Career Record : 11 Wins, 10 Places, 25 Starts
Career Earnings : R629 250 (Prior to this result)

RACE RESULT :

#	LBH	Horse	Kg	MR	Dr	Jockey	Trainer
1	0	VANGELIS	60.0	107	10	S Khathi	Gavin Smith
2	2.75	SECRET CHAMBER	60.0	100	1	R Fourie	Justin Snaith
3	3.25	PIRATE’S GOLD	60.0	95	2	M Byleveld	Alan Greeff
4	3.5	CHOU CHOO WOOGA	60.0	99	7	S Randolph	Gavin Smith
5	3.6	ECOLE MILITAIRE	60.0	101	6	A Forbes	Des McLachlan
6	4.10	SUDDEN TIME (Aus)	60.0	87	4	F Herholdt	Barry Steenkamp
7	4.20	MAZAR-E-SHARIF	60.0	101	5	N Rapson	Alan Greeff
8	4.45	NOBLE LEOPARD	60.0	97	11	M Yeni	Nic Claassen
9	5.20	MOSCOW CIRCUS	60.0	100	9	D Bogaleboile	Gavin Smith
10	6.95	FREECELL	60.0	99	3	W Agrella	Des McLachlan
11	16.10	COUNT DO ALL	60.0	90	8	K Minnie	Jacques Strydom