VICTORS LUDORUM

Click above to watch Igugu’s win in the 2012 J&B Met (Grade 1)
(Image : Gold Circle - Footage : SABC3)

Emperors Palace National Yearling Sale
TBA Sales Complex, Germiston, South Africa
27 - 29 April 2012

Today would’ve been business as usual at Summerhill, if it were not for the fact that it’s the departure date for our horses headed for the Emperors Palace National Yearling Sales. You only have to enter the Hall of Fame at our School of Management Excellence, to know what it means to us. So many great horses adorn the walls, so many warriors who fought the brave battle in the cause of our championships, and more than a few in every National Sales draft. By the time they leave, these fellows are “family”; we’ve played the role of “god” in planning the union of their parents, we’ve been the mid-wife when they arrived, and they’ve been hand- raised, step-by-meticulous-step, to this point. Now they have names, they’ve got personalities, and they’re carrying the brand.

There’ll be more than a touch of nostalgia as they take their first tentative steps onto the float, and while the old rituals where the woman and the children would serenade them off the premises are no longer (headmasters take school too seriously these days), it’s a strange world they’re entering when they first set foot on the big “dog” that tows them to Johannesburg.

You can’t help getting sentimental at times like these, and you can’t help remembering a couple that went before them. Just yesterday, I passed a paddock of weanlings, and I caught a glance of Hear The Drums in the midst of them. Just a fortnight before, there were a few among this lot verging on delinquency, looking like they needed reform school. The fellow in their midst is not an old man, but he has the grace and the wisdom of a sage, and already there is a sense of decorum in the bunch. Hear The Drums was a once-in-a-lifetime racehorse. Literally. He’s been where no other racehorse in South Africa has ever been. He took the “around-they-go-again” sameness out of the game, except in the number of times he visited the Number One box. This was a man who gave us not one, but 35 undying moments.

Pierre Jourdan isn’t that big, his parents weren’t famous, and he didn’t cost much as a youngster. But he doesn’t know any of this. In his first year at the races, he captured the hearts of fans across the nation. When he raced home in the SA Classic, the crowd clapped him all the way to the winner’s circle. “PJ” was briefly more a deity than a horse. A prominent member of the Catholic clergy was so overcome, he forgot the injunction against worshipping graven images. He asked for, and received a few coppery hairs from “PJ’s” tail.

As Mike de Kock left the mounting yard for Imbongi’s assault on the Dubai Festival’s richest mile, he said “no excuses today”. He didn’t need any. Destiny came rushing up to embrace him. When Christophe Soumillon said “laisse alle”, Imbongi surged away, shaking off the hangers-on, much as Oscar Pistorius might farewell a bunch of neighbourhood joggers.

Much as we’re tempted to recall the memory of the epic battle between Igugu and Pierre Jourdan in last year’s Vodacom Durban July, we won’t. Igugu has moved on since then, and she showed us another dimension in this year’s J&B Met. She’d been to the well so many times, her preparation had been severely interrupted, and she was feeling the effects of all sorts of bodily intrusions.

There was all kind of negative conjecture in the popular press, there were any number of warnings from those who supposedly know better, but the public would have none of it. They nailed Igugu down solidly to favouritism, as if they knew she wouldn’t let them down. The truth is, in nine consecutive runs, she never looked like doing so, yet here was something different. She faced the cream of South Africa’s athletic talent, she was going in half-cocked, and whatever her history and origins, there are limits to everyone of us and what we can do.

When they turned for home, the 40,000 in the stands let it rip. With 300 to go, there was no sign of Igugu, let alone the characteristic burst. The crowd fell silent.

In that instant, she lowered her head, like she shared their anxiety, she gathered her limbs and every ounce of will-power within her. Her body wanted to die, but her mind wouldn’t let it. Nine strides from the post, anyone of three others looked the winner. Igugu lunged at them, Bravura turned his head to look at her. His eye seemed to change. One should suspect humans who carelessly put words into the mouths of animals, but it seemed as if Bravura was saying “oh no, not you again”. When he dismounted after the race, Anton Marcus, who was riding Bravura, put it another way:

“I had her beaten, but if you’re dealing with Igugu, it’s always only half-over”. Igugu won by a growing neck.

The crowd gave Igugu a standing ovation as she passed the post, with the yellow lights of the infield timing board showing she’d equalled the long-standing record, which meant Bravura must’ve come close too. But it was Igugu’s day, she owned Kenilworth as no horse had since Empress Club. Ever so briefly, the sport had returned to its most glorious days. Wave after wave of cheering rushed over sunny Kenilworth, the horses and jockeys were exhausted. It had all been too brave.

In the public mind, Sheikh Mohammed had been transformed. Before the arrival of Igugu, he was known as one of those rich blokes with hundreds of horses, a distant and regal figure, which is unfair when you know him. He’d never tried to be anything but what he was, his family had come from the land of the Bedouin, and they’d started out with a few camels, goats and not much else. Of course there’s been oil and much more since then, but now, and mainly because of Igugu, like his partner Andre Macdonald, Sheikh Mohammed was a folk hero, a good bloke, just like the rest of us.

That’s what a Summerhill horse can do for you. See you at Block A, TBA Sales Complex, the rest of this week.

Enquiries :
Tarryn Liebenberg 27 (0) 83 787 1982
or email tarryn@summerhill.co.za
www.summerhill.co.za

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

HEY BOET, GET YOURSELF A BOMBER!

Emperors Palace
Summer Ready To Run Sale
Summerhill Stud, 22 February 2012

Those that were left behind at Summerhill, have done the talking for us.
Unwanted in the sales ring, they sold off the farm. And they spoke well.

PARIS PERFECT
R5.5 million earner in 3 countries
Cost R65,000

BOLD ELLINORE
Equus Champion
Cost R60,000

VANGELIS
Millionaire
Cost R75,000

EMPEROR NAPOLEON
Millionaire
Cost R60,000

HEAR THE DRUMS
Winningmost racehorse in history
Cost R42,000

AMPHITHEATRE
Champion Stayer and Millionaire
Cost R30,000

IMBONGI
Group Winner 3 countries
Cost R140,000

YOU SEE BOET, CAN STILL GET LUCKY.

Enquiries :
Tarryn Liebenberg 27 (0) 83 787 1982
or email tarryn@summerhill.co.za
www.summerhill.co.za

BOB YEARHAM COMES TO THE PARTY

Bob Yearham (left) - Emperors Palace COO
(Photo : Tab Online)

EMPERORS PALACE
SUMMER READY TO RUN SALE
22 February 2012

Mick Goss
Summerhill Stud CEOTime was when we traded racehorses off the farm. Those that thrust their hands into the remnants of the farm barrel, came away with Imbongi (Dual Guineas hero, Group winner in three countries and R8.8million earner;) Paris Perfect (the first “South African” to pick up a cheque in the world’s richest race, and the earner of R5.5 million;) Bold Ellinore (Champion race filly;) Emperor Napolean (millionaire and rated in the top three of his generation;) South Africa’s winningmost racehorse, Hear The Drums; Champion Stayer and millionaire, Amphitheatre, and millionaire and thirteen time winner, Vangelis. That’s for starters; the list is long, the achievements enduring.

It occurred to us that we should build a second Ready To Run for those horses which, for whatever reason, missed the Spring edition. Igugu and Pierre Jourdan, the nation’s leading earners for the past two seasons reminded us that we owed this to those that were left behind, and besides, our customers have voted with their feet. They love a Ready To Run.

Already, last year’s experiment has reaped its rewards. The graduates include a string of quality performers (costing as little as R7,000 and no more than R60,000) including the Sophomore Sprint ace, Sithela, who was robbed of favouritism for the R2million Emperors Palace Ready To Run Cup by a fatal intervention.

There’s little point though, in running a Summer version if it’s not going to be done properly, and especially if it’s not built to last. It’s just not the Summerhill style. So we’ve decided to hold the sale in the world’s most unique venue; we’re going to get the country’s Number One restaurant to cater, and we’re going to have a helluva time. And we’re going to remember that at the Ready To Run, there’s a horse for everyone.

By the way, we’ve an old pal who’s got the best eye for a gap we know. It only took Bob Yearham of Emperors Palace a split second to put his company’s name to the sale. He knows the history, and he knows Summerhill. So welcome to the Emperors Palace Summer Ready To Run Sale.

Enquiries :
Tarryn Liebenberg 27 (0) 83 787 1982
or email tarryn@summerhill.co.za
www.summerhill.co.za

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

Angus - J&B Met (Grade 1)
(Photo : Sporting Post)

CAPE PREMIER YEARLING SALE
Cape Town International Convention Centre
26 - 27 January 2012

J&B Met hero Angus; history’s winningmost racehorse Hear The Drums;
East Cape Horse Of The Year Coastal Waltz;
Group One performers The Gardfarder and Norinco;
Graded Stakes winners Redcarpet Style and Decorated Hero.

This was your harvest last time we sold in Cape Town.
We’re back in town next week.

NEW CLOTHING : SAME OLD STORY.

Enquiries :
Tarryn Liebenberg 27 (0) 83 787 1982
or email tarryn@summerhill.co.za
www.summerhill.co.za