The Boxing Day Sermon: Kempton; King George, Christmas Hurdle.

Good Evening and Happy Christmas Eve from the Major who writes from a mild pleasant evening, above the North Nottinghamshire flatlands.  Stepping outside, wood smoke fills the nostrils, listen closely, one can almost hear the bonhomie.  The children might be excited, stirred with stories of flying deer and stoked by the prospect of such goodies to be unravelled in the morrow.

What do they know.  They are mere children.  The world of innocence has it’s merit.  Unless, one is born unlucky, you do not have to concern yourself with dinner and the future remains unwritten and full of possibility.

Yet, gin and tonic is off limits, freedoms are limited and most significantly, the wonders of the Christmas racing card are entirely unknown.

Christmas is a wonderful time for the sport.  The King George particularly has been the gift that keeps on giving; in recent memory, it has been a spectacle to savour.  Not just Kauto’s magnificent dominance of the race but the other playactors have given such joy.  Monet’s Garden, Racing Demon, Long Run, Madison du Berlais, Voy por Ustedes, Captain Chris, Exotic Dancer, Al Ferof et al.

I can only focus on a day at the time, else the Welsh National, the Leopardstown Christmas Hurdle and chase, The Desert Orchid Chase, Ryanair Hurdle would crowd my thoughts.

Shortly, to the action.

First some updates my old friends.  I trust you are all well and send all of you the best of the seasons greetings.  May your table be blessed with the richest of foods and may your indulgence cause just the minimum required belly ache.

I must confess that this year, my larder is well stocked.  A neighbour popped around with a cake earlier today and I insisted she left with 3 pounds of fine cured ham.  To be honest, we would never have gotten to it.  The tantalus has a very fine brandy and a 20 year old Chivas Regal, I have taken the key, lest the good lady feels it appropriate to confiscate it herself.

Friends and family are gathered, the tapes are across the track.  I type with a cold gin and tonic to hand, the pub beckoning.

Last Christmas, preparing for the big day, I asked followers what third meat I should consider alongside the traditional turkey and a gammon I had scored, honeyed and pressed chives into.  There was a crescendo of noise in the reply from across the Irish Sea.  Spiced Beef.  I had no fathomable idea as to the nature of this but the clamour for this cured beef was such that it remained with me.

This year, as thoughts turned to festivities again, I decided to break new ground and add the spiced beef to the Christmas table.  My choice was fortified by none other than the Milkman himself.  Seanie, who I quote directly, described Spiced Beef as tasting like “the tears of an angel”.

Buying it was the most interesting escapade.  Not that I want to propagate stereotypes but goodness.  Having contacted a reputable butcher of the English Market in Cork, a few emails secured the advice and a pencilled order for 3 kilos of the angels tears, enough to douse a small fire.  The price was indeterminate for reasons I still cannot fathom.  The preferred method of settling the invoice was to email a gmail account with my credit card details.  I called to gently express my own view of cyber security and felt a bit of a wimp but gave the details by phone, no doubt to be scribbled down on a pad somewhere.

Anyway, feeling a little uncertain about it all, I was wondering whether the order would come through but four days ago, in a polysterene coffin, encased in freeze blocks arrived a plastic wrapped lump of beef.  The instructions are to boil it.  I shall report back in time.

The in-laws have arrived for Christmas as has my brother.  Good company.  The mother in law will drink Brandy before the sun rises above the yard arm and frankly embodies the spirit of Christmas.  They come heavy laden with unnecessary supplies which make the cupboards bulge obscene.

As for me.  Business is well.  Me and my business partner spent some time and money spoiling our team this year.  During a morning of festivities, I saw one of my team breaking from the games to quietly make some calls to close some deals down before the break for Christmas.   Gad, it bought a lump to my throat, every penny spent was earned double, I am sure of that.

This year, the Majors eldest made it into Grammar School with a score that If feared might have NASA and GCHQ on the phone.  Most proud, especially (and I know how to blow my own trumpet) as we prepared him at the kitchen table.

That is the main points of 2017 that we shall file on the positive side of the ledger.

Agin.

I am a portly weight and while I enjoy the life of a bon viveur and all folk know me as good with the bottle and generous at the bar; it does not feel so good.  2018 I feel needs to be healthier.  I have started to play football in the week.  the younger set there can see some old skills and it is dangerous to underestimate someone like me.  Not that I have particular attributes but I carry enough skullduggery to deceive far better players.  If only the ankles and knees did not ache so much in the morning after,

I managed to submit a dissertation to complete my masters studies.  Yet, before you toast in my honour, I have to say I feel for the person who has to assess it.  It is singly the most feeble piece of academic work.  No, worse than that, it is not a piece of academic work at all.  It is criminal.  Still, I have submitted something and to date, the most important ingredient of success on this executive course has been the five figure annual course fee.  Let us see if this holds true in the face of such a disgraceful submission.

The year has been bereft of significant racing winners.  I blame not writing the blog.  I have been amiss in my study and feel out of touch.  Yet, the instincts are there.  While Cheltenham in the spring was neutral, the classics were out of my comprehension and the early racing of the National Hunt season has been hit and miss.

Anyway.  If you want a winner.  Menghli Khan in the Future Champions race at Leopardstown on Wednesday is you horse.  I cannot believe it is evens.

I will accept that I am not selling my Boxing Day tips to you well but consider yourself forewarned.

Boxing Day Racing Tips: Leopardstown and Kempton

Shabash!

Here we are and the Major dives straight into the King George.

As a race, it is one of my favourites.  It is a test but a natural speed is vital.  Sometimes the stayers cannot quite collar back the faster players over the three miles.  It is a glorious sight seeing your horse bowling along jumping for fun on that second circuit, I am quite sure Jesus would approve and look forward to posing the question to him one day.

Six and Eleven Year olds have been recent winners.  The last fifteen years have fancied the favoured market horses.  Put simply, it is best often to look for the obvious choice.

The going is a question 48 hours out.  We are due some rain in the previous night.  I am going with good to soft to soft.  Proper racing ground, excellent.

The problem is that this renewal does not make the obvious choice all that obvious.  The market favours the troublemaker Might Bite who would be the sort of friend that would go loco on a stag do in Prague.  Last years top novice has shown himself as a right character and the Major is a fan of that!  Coming back in fine fettle, he beat Frodon by 8 lengths last time out.

Last year, Might Bite made a bad error when in winning position on this card last year.  There is no doubt that this horse has plenty of talent but many displays have shown that errors will occur.  Whether age and experience will expel these quirks, time will tell.

Bristol de Mai has been a little hard done by in my view.  He is only 6 after all and while some of his previous form has been middling, the recent improvement is justified and can be taken on full face value in the Major’s opinion.

Thistlecrack had the world at his feet pre-injury and is only turning te so is hardly too long in the tooth to put it back together.

Whisper is an honest sort but for me falls a little short.  Beaten when giving all again in a Hennessy, it strikes me that this renewal may not be the strongest once history has receipted and filed it.

Fox Norton has had good support but this will be a test of stamina.  I know I made the case for the faster horses but I feel I should clarify.  We need an accurate jumper, that can travel and because we have a few, I fear this will be a break neck King George.

I suggest the winner will not hit the front until after the last.

On reflection, I am placing my faith in the 4/1 shot Bristol de Mai.  

Of course Buveur D’Air wins the Christmas Hurdle.  1/5 though.  Good god.

Let’s work back instead to the Kauto Novice Chase at 1.55pm.  I am not convinced it is the strongest field and none of the favourites jump off the page.  Black Corton was campaigned as a summer horse but proved a little too good and the winter campaign almost feels like an accidental occurrence.  Elegant Escape who defeated the aforementioned has a weights pull to deal with but if the former leaves me unconvinced, the latter must too.

Mia’s Storm has a fine winning record but again, I am not sold.

I’ll be honest.  When the market throws up shorties that you do not like, you are left with little choice.

I am backing West Approach and Some Invitation at 9s and 25s accordingly.  Both for the win, it is Christmas and I am the sort that prefers the dark leg meat.

Last bit from me is the Racing Post Novice Chase at Leopardstown.  I fully expect Death Duty to lower Footpads colours here and encourage you to take the 7/4 on offer.

Short and sweet on the racing views.  Don’t sue, the pub beckons and I am already wine flown.  I might try again later in the week.

Eat with good company and be grateful.  We all have a limited number of Christmas celebrations so make it count.

Courage, shuffle the cards.

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The Saturday Sermon: Cheltenham Tips and a few other bits

Good evening from the Major who writes from Northern Nottinghamshire under crystal clear skies where the quarter moon arcs towards the horizon, the brightly half orb chasing the dying sun which bathed the south-western horizon in golden reds.

It has been almost three months friends.  The last time I picked up the keyboard in anger was on the eve of my work trip to Thirsk races, an unqualified success by the way (the day not the blog).  I had friends and colleagues drowned in some of those new fashionable gin cocktails with the peppercorns afloat; what a merry bunch we were.  After making the chauffeur wait a suitably inappropriate and debauched time, we sang our way back down the M1, forging memories.

Most Important: I have a big favour to ask, you shall see at the end!

I have been compelled to pick up the blog as tomorrow I attend Cheltenham.  If you are of the view that jump racing HQ is overhyped, I have some sympathy for your standpoint.  Yet, I am one weaned on its irresistible pull.  Too many memories echo in the bars and the view is too good to miss.

This week I had time alone in London.  Following my morning meeting, wandering the streets of Shoreditch just beyond Old Street, I was overwhelmed by the sheer youthful arrogance of it.  I felt like I was on the set of Nathan Barley (a magnificent dark comedy premonition if you have never seen it, though likely not for everyone).  The lack of humility and the lack of diversity.  The last sounds like an odd statement, the area is renowned for its hipster vibe but I think that is my point.  It is so forced that I feel sorry for them, they know not how ridiculous they look.  I sported a suit, my shirt was buttoned up and I wore a tie.  I learned to dress like that when I grew up.  God, I am old aren’t I, it all changed and I didn’t notice, the mistake to which we all will fall.

Lunch was nearer Kings Cross in the streets just to the south of the station across the Euston Road, in an area I quite dislike.  It just feels like people would spit at you rather than look at you.  The foodie pub though was rather good and did much to lighten my mood.  A bit dark inside but the chef knew his business and served a fine simple salmon, new potatoes and pine nuts, bravo.

With some time to spare before my return train, I spent an hour in the British Library.  To see some of the written works of Michelangelo and Galileo is quite something and for no charge?  Well, who can see fairer than that.

On the return train, something a little unusual unravelled.  To understand, we need to rewind the clock a month, to find me at an awards function, an afternoon one at a swanky enough joint with enough booze to make you forget it was still light outside.  It was a Friday and swaying my way back through the London mayhem, I was happy to collapse into my train seat.

I always try to travel first class on the train if the tickets are not too eye-watering.  I find train travel lovely, as long as I have the one thing that I possibly treasure above all else.  Not love, wealth or fortune but peace.  The nicer seats are bigger, personal space is less invaded and the carriage is quieter.  Forgive me the indulgence, I can imagine how this sounds.

To understand the next piece of the tale, one needs to understand some other things too, so we are going to jump around. Pay attention.  We are going to visit a previous train journey via my sons academic achievements.

My number one son took his 11+ exam this year and I am proud to say he did me proud.  His score was such that I half expected calls from MI6, NASA and Cern to flow in.  I ask your forgiveness again, this time for the pride of the father.  I did not employ a tutor, I worked the little so and so myself, see, more pride, I can’t be that sorry after all!

I know that Grammar schools are a little bit like Marmite.  I must declare my interest having attended Bishop Vesey in my youth, an ancient school and a wonderful experience.  So yes, I am a solid supporter of the ‘for’ camp.

When I prepared for my entrance exam, nobody was tutored.  We rocked up, took our chances and I don’t remember it being a big deal.  Compare that to number one son, whose entire class was tutored before the big day, the stresses evident to all.  Not only did I dislike the tension, the thousands invested in preparing all the little pipsqueaks for their exams bothers me greatly.

Of all the criticisms of selective education, the unfairness of tutoring is the one that does strike a chord with me.  I like the idea of selection in a wholesome way, bringing together capable young minds from across the social spectrum, not an incubator of the children of sharp elbowed middle class parents, spending money on someone to prepare their kids to get in.

IF you have never sat a Verbal Reasoning paper, let alone, practised many to refine your speed and techniques, you do not stand a chance.  Here is a stat for you (and I promise this is all leading back to a mediocre story), 70% of children not on free school meals that achieve level 5 at Key Stage 2 (that’s basically a bright primary pupil) will pass a grammar school entrance exam if they take it.  compare that to 30% of the kids on free school meals.  What is the difference?  The latter set doesn’t have those sharp elbowed parents.

You might think that is all well and good Major but so what?  Well, I shall tell you.  I am planning on setting up a charity to tackle this injustice.  A charity that will provide tuition and resource to such kids.  I am currently writing the plan.  I am going to look to for some start-up funding but then seek sponsors from successful executives.  You can see the idea.

Anyway, back to the train.  My mind addled slightly but not enough to cause a scene.  Who should sit across the aisle from me but ex grammar boy, David Davis, he of the Brexit.  As I write this, it is obvious that in a slightly wined state, one should not strike up a conversation with a minister of the crown about a charity you are in the incubation stages of mentally developing….  Quite.  In the sober light, such decisions are easy, keep your counsel Major, sobriety was not in the ascendency.

The ensuing short conversation was stilted and awkward as you might expect.  Conversation might be doing it an undue compliment, let’s call it an exchange.  I could not recollect it exactly for you due to a slightly foggy indexing of the component parts.  Yet, in an endeavour to demonstrate that my intention is never to extol personal virtues, I shall replay for your sniggering, one, two-line, interchange which stayed with me for all of the wrong cringing reasons.

Me: Well since you have shown a modicum of interest, might I might drop you a note once the finer details of my idea are coming together.  (at this point I think I gave him my card, oh Christ, I remember doing that).

Rt Hon David Davis MP: Well, it is interesting and I wish you luck but I think I am going to be tied up for the next two years.

I kid you not.  I apologised as I disembarked.

Anyway, back to yesterday, if you are still following the thread of this.

Who should be on the train but David Davis again.  I found that my willingness to talk to him had diminished precisely in line with my blood alcohol levels.  He did however sit in my seat, after waiting patiently to see that nobody else was to take it.  For one moment, I thought I might have round two, this time sober.

I kept my head down, you don’t want to anger those ex special forces sorts, best manners or none.

I am looking forward to tomorrow.  I saw some of the racing today and was pretty taken by Slate House, we shall see how that form stands up but played from the front, he showed a nice gallop.  It struck me that Sceau Royal might already need further, not taking anything from North Hill Harvey who showed fine spirit up the hill.

At this time of year, what am I looking for in the card.  Well….

Number one would be trainer form.  These early season national hunt meetings are ones where trainers can have the string firing on all cylinders or two good pieces of work behind.

Everyone raves about Cheltenham form and there is something in it but I am not as wedded as some.

Some of the horses we will see have been campaigned in the summer meetings.  They arrive either in tune or already spent, judgement is required.  If you are backing a horse out for the first time this year, a propensity to do well first time out, or as the former line I have indicated, a stable in form, is important to me.

Before we dive in to the horses.  I have a favour that should not take you more than a few minutes and will not cost you a penny.  My business is supporting Ernie’s Wish, a charity set up to support families with children cope with bereavement.  The founder, Carla, lost her baby, Ernie, at 39 weeks last year and has gone on a mission to improve services for effected families.  One of her best friends, Shelley is a trustee, she works for me and I can vouch that she is one of those salt of the earth types.  Hard as nails, no-nonsense but with a glint in the eye of mischief too.

Ernie’s Wish are building a counselling suite, making a website and preparing bereavement packs for kids.   We have helped them put in a bid for £5,000 to help with this and now they need votes.  I have never asked much of you have I.  To be fair, I think I have only offered you bad meandering stories, ill-written prose and poor tips but still, I have asked nothing in return.

I told Shelley that the horseracing fraternity are a good bunch, she did not look convinced so please do not let me down.

It does not take long to visit the page to cast your votes.  You get ten, use them all on Ernie: Click and vote here.

To the sports, let us sharpen our lance points until thy glitter in the blinding morning light.

Saturday Cheltenham Tips

We start with a handicap chase.

I am Noel Fehily’s biggest fan.  I was a fan before it was fashionable, so there.

Doing Fine thus, is the one my eye is naturally drawn to.  However, I laid my rules out and Mulholland is not quite at top speed yet this season and although I have this one on the shortlist, I look elsewhere.

Southfield Vic is not one for maximum faith.  He is seven from twelve in single figure fields and two from fourteen in larger fields.  Of course, statistically, you are more likely to win in a smaller field but this is no numbers anomaly, rather this is a horse who needs some peacefulness, like myself really!

I like two, one less fashionable and my pick.  Sonofpresenting is a front running sort who has been playing his heart out of late.  Fancied to be undone by his rise up the weights, I am not sure that 20/1 does not do the 7-year-old gelding a bit of an injustice.  I shall have a saver.

My main interest though is on Robinsfirth representing the Tizzards.  The yard is cooking and Robinsfirth is exactly the sort that they will get a fine tune from.  I feel very good about recommending this one.  7/1.

In the second race, a four runner affair, you think the choices would be simple.  However complexity shall eternally befuddle the national hunt follower, until the sun swells and swallows the Earth and all form lines are made dust.

Bedrock is a flat convert that has shown well and done little wrong.  Yet… I have always felt these sorts (think Ferguson runners) might have speed in the early season but don’t last like the hard knocks.  Twobelucky has a more formal old boy national hunt profile.  He was beaten by Le Richebourg at Galway but that is no disgrace.

On balance, I am backing Bedrock.  It is tight though.

The 3.10pm handicap chase is a nice looking race.  If Vaniteux wins, I’ll eat my socks.  I never trusted that one and going from Henderson to Pipe these days has to be seen as a demotion.  I remember not that long ago, checking a race card for Pipe and Nicholls runners, things have changed a lot since then.

6/1 isn’t a lot to be giving us about Le Prezien but he has a lot more going for him.  His efforts last back end were not spectacular but there was some good novice form earlier and I would feel that this season might see him a player in handicap company.

I think I am going to settle on Poker School who can be backed at 12/1.  There should be a fair bit of pace and he probably needs that over two miles.  Yet, his yard are flying with the small number of runners they are booking.  I think the mark might be fine and I am on.

In the 3.45, I fancy the Skelton runner Stick to the Plan.  He was darn unlucky at Southwell when unseating with the race at mercy.  This is a massive step up but might have been the plan anyway.  There is a touch of 8/1 available and a bit of redemption is a fine thing.

The 4.20 is full of nice prospects.  Arguably, Two Taffs has shown the most to date placing in the Close Brothers chase at the festival.  Double Treasure was faultless in his last win but is picking on bigger boys here.

Alcala has been on the go all summer and with much success.  I am always a little wary of horses losing their winning streak, they always seem to need a break before finding it again but there were valid excuses last time with the equipment.

Do you know, I might regret it but I am playing Double Treasure at 10/1.  I get why he is less fancied but he deserves this crack.

At 4.55pm we have a the two and a half mile novice hurdle.  For a novice, we have plenty of winning form in the field, yet much of it is in low-grade or even match races so hard to judge.  Robinhannon is my pick, the favourite I know.  5/4 is the price and I am a little bit nervy and won’t be large on a horse that still looks green despite many runs under rules.  Yet, the form is decent enough and the overriding theme through my selections is yard form.

In the bumper, your guess is as good as mine.  For what it is worth, I am on the drifting 7/1, Kerry’s Boy.  Pauling has a habit of getting these bumper runners-up to the job and frankly, that is all I have.

May your dinner be as rich as mine.  I am at a Halloween party with friends and children.  It sounds horrendous but the hostess is one incredible baker and I know for sure that post racing, with the decent wine open, we shall imbibe among friends and feel good with the world.

Courage, roll the dice.

The Surprise Thursday Night Sermon – Thirsk… and a couple at Goodwood

Good evening from the Major who writes from the pastel skies of Northern Nottinghamshire.  The drained swamps stretch flat to the horizon, bustling with harvests to come.

I last wrote a piece two months ago, in terrible touch.  I must have shown some soreness in the legs afterwards because I have been on the easy list for the last few months.

All is well good readers.  It is nice to say hello again to you all.  I wish you all health, happiness and glorious winners raining from God’s good heaven.

All is reasonable with the Major.  Family, home and business are all on form.  Personally, I have my moments as you know I will.  I get so lost in things sometimes that I wonder whether I am doing the right or wrong things.  Then I ponder on whether either of those things is anything other than the devils imposter.  Like Zuangzi, I am no longer sure if I am a good man dreaming I am bad, or whether I am inherently bad and occasionally dream of being pure at heart.

In my village, Gringley on the Hill, I am working on a puzzle.  Some years ago, the village had an old camp, the entrance road was called Minster View.  The site has since been developed, consigning to history the borstel, the camp et al.  Now a small road loop shows off smart new homes sits on the same spot.

The reason for mentioning it is that there is a suggestion locally that the road was called Minster View because you could see York Minster from the site.  When someone told me this I was immediately dubious as York is 40 miles further North and ‘on-the-hill’ is a generous term for the 135 feet we rise above the carrs that stretch north from here.

The big issue with seeing objects on the horizon is that the horizon is falling away.  No matter at what point you stand on any sphere, the horizon in any direction is falling away from you.  On Earth, it equates to about eight inches in every mile.  Between any two points, as the ground falls away from either in the direction of the other, one must have the height at one or both ends to see over the inevitable hump in the middle.  If there are any hills, trees or buildings in the way, then you need more height.  I fear Drax power station, an enormous petcoke and bio fuel power station with imposing cooling towers, might be in the way, even though it is 20 miles due North, it is big enough to blot part of the horizon.

Using the height of York Minster, I have calculated that you might see the top 25 metres of the building.  I have not found anyone, including the chair of the Gringley History Society (of course there had to be one!) who has seen York Minster.  I am planning on taking my telescope to the highest point of the village and training it on where York should be.  I shall then settle the matter, once and for all.

That was interesting wasn’t it!  I can only apologise.

This year, my business is supporting two charities.  One is Bluebell Woods Children’s Hospice and I recently ran an astronomy club with some children there.  Now that is sobering.  The other charity we are supporting is close to one of my team and tomorrow, our annual race day to Thirsk is partly to support that cause.

We shall act disgracefully, laugh and drink like it was the last days of Rome.  I shall do my bit too, providing a range of tips that will dampen the merry-making.  Well, they cannot have it all.

Thirsk Tips…. Plus a bit of Goodwood and Galway if I can.

To be fair the card at Thirsk is not a disgrace.  Some class 6’s give us a taste of the bargain basement of racing but we scale the dizzying heights of a class 3 too.  On rain softened ground, I feel I crack a few of these puzzles.

The opener is a seller.  Tie em up Tal has a win under his belt in selling company, while half the field have no official rating yet, this Evans trained horse is the highest officially on ratings.  Furthermore, Evans has a good record at Thirsk and John Egan is not a terrible jockey to have at Thirsk on a busy day of racing.

Egan is no Hanagan though and he gets the right on the evens favourite, Jean Paget.  Mick Channons horses have been running OK at Thirsk but overall the yard is hardly flying.  Looks a bit tight on price to me, despite the jockey booking.

I am going to take a chance on Sandama, 14/1 in the opener who represents top Northern yard, Fahey.  the horse has not shown a lot to date but it is a Footstepsinthesand sort and while it might be seen to better effect on good ground, nothing jumps off the page in a poor race and so I’d rather be on a price.

Time Trail looks like being returned to a more realistic level in the Fillies Nursery Sprint.  However, it is the favourite Tulip Fever that immediately stands out.  She is going good guns and the Haggas team are in good form.  Georgia Cox, claiming five pounds has a strike rate of over 20% in the last few months and clearly capable.

Although friendless in the market, I am going to play Silver Starlight at 9/2.  She also arrives with experience, form with a bit of toe in the ground and a course win.

In the 2.45pm, John Kirkup heads the market and I can understand why.  After a successful run though, he carries a fair few extra pounds, we have to investigate those with the lighter loads.  Angel Force has finished behind the favourite previously but may have improved when winning last time out in similar conditions.

The Mark Johnstone runner and the Tom Dascombe horse are both noteworthy in different ways but I think the answer here is to stick with the horse that has shown he has the tools, John Kirkup it is, 6/4.

The 3.20pm conditions stakes sees Mitchum Swagger drop out of pattern level and of course, that makes the horse of significant interest.  However, I’d prefer it if he were a bit more consistent, especially when the market is asking us for more than they will put up if he does win, no deal.

Sound Advice has some ability but needs the firmer conditions.  This leaves me considering burdening That is the Spirit with my money at 9/1.  He definitely will not mind any more rain if it comes and could go well but I am put off by the zero wins in the last sixty runners record of the O’Meara camp.

No bet.

Dyna Might and Sheriff Garrett are the two I want on side in the 3.55 and you think I’d be able to split them easily enough, especially as the former lost to the latter already.   The Sheriff may not have finished improving having won last time out with head-gear on that might have focussed the horse nicely.  Ladbrokes though are offering 9/1 on Dyna Might and I have to play at that price.

I am playing Broughtons Knight in the 4.30pm, it is a horse that has been backed before and arguably unlucky.  It was suggested to me too and so makes the roster!

I shall take the last two races on chance, the better side of a few bottles of the best claret Thirsk can muster.

Goodwood Tips

I have not played too hard at Goodwood this week, thank goodness!  It looks like a nightmare for punters at times although Winter gave the form backers some pleasure today, winning in lovely style.

I am going to be a little lumpy about Profitable in the main race of the day, the King George Stakes at 3.35pm.  The form is rock solid and the ground no issue.  I have to be involved at 11/4.  Baattash is a worry as the ceiling of his ability has not been fully tested yet.

I also like the Given horse, Gift in Time, I think this one might have a lot to give in handicap company.

I hope your company is as good as that which I shall keep.  Fine sorts.  We go round the once my friends, enjoy it.

Courage, roll the dice.

Surprise Epsom Oaks Day Sermon

Good evening from the Major who picks up a laptop to write from the delightfully warm blue skies of the lost North Nottinghamshire flat lands.

Surprise!  A sermon.  I would reckon that you were not expecting that.

It has been some time friends and then today, I received a text from a friend attending Epsom on Friday seeking tips, misguided fool.  You can judge a man by those from whom he seeks counsel, I think my friend is found wanting.  Still, he is the old sort of old acquaintance who knew me with long hair and acne, the sort that you like to oblige, to relight a synapse, an old connection but a conduit that has permanence to survive the examination of time.

Time has passed so for the fast updates on the Major.  I have taken up cycling, no lycra yet involved, furthest distance achieved: 31 miles.  The family are well.  The business is successful in a moderate way, this year I will survive without spending my own capital which, I suppose, is an early desirable tick box on all entrepreneurial adventures.

Earlier in the year, I sporadically released a few sermons and was starting to enjoy the swing of it again.  The pulse quickened with the idea of writing.  That soon dissipated and we are at the end of two months of radio silence.  Two months in which astronomy, military history and any other thoughts that cross my mind in the dark hours of night have not spilled onto these pages for your appraisal.

Here we are friends.

I was tempted by Oaks day because it was the scene of an almost monumental win for me in 2013, Talents year.

What a day it was, I had £20 spread in little multiples across Thistle Bird (WON), Resurge (WON), Gregorian (WON), Talent (WON 20/1) and Mister Music (LOST).  It returned £1500ish, slightly less, I can’t recall exactly.  However, my bookmaker kindly told me that had the other selection not run a dog of a race, the win would have been £48,000.  That would have taken me upstairs on the trip to the Caribbean.

Mister Music finished plum last of the 12 at 17/2 that day.  It was not to be seen again until August where it ran another bad race finishing last of 5 before winning at Bath by two lengths at 25/1.  Not a penny was carried in the Majors name at Bath and in the countless races that it ran afterwards, including winning off a mark of 99, I only had ill wishes for that one.  You see, I am not very nice really, I’ll call it what it was, a grudge.

You can read about it in my after-timing special on Derby Day 2013.  I don’t care, why should I, I was there and I know the length of perseverance required, the depth of long term losses and the simple bad luck one must endure before turning a single banknote into a holiday with extremely little calculation.

So yes, Epsom Oaks day has a fond place in my heart.  I thought Talent was very good, I wanted her in the Arc.  That looked more foolish as time went by.  I had exactly the same thoughts of Taghrooda.  I am sucker for fancying an Oaks winner for glory in the cool Parisian autumnal days.  It is those generous three year old filly allowances.

Anyway, this is 2017.  Former glory duly advertised our minds must turn to this renewal.  Solutions to puzzles must be found.  Kennedy described the Mariner probe sent to Venus as requiring engineering finer than that to go into the finest watches to produce the capability of the accuracy required.  He described the challenge of putting a probe into orbit around Venus was akin to landing a rocket across half a continent and landing it between the 40 yard lines on one of those American Football fields.  I suggest the Oaks card is more difficult but I am afraid he is not about to debate the difference.  That conversation will have to wait.

Still for anyone who longs for some aspirational politics, I recommend his Rice University speech which stirs something in the soul.  Listening to it, you cannot but feel galvanised into his mission, to put man on the moon in the name of peace, of technological advancement and of national pride.  Oh, how I long for such a politician now.

The challenges are there.  We are yet to conquer global warming.  To harness the tides, wind and sun for all of our energy needs – That would be something we could make a national mission.

I would not describe the current bun fight as boring mind.  In summary, we have a marginal wing of the Labour party entrenched in a history of Marxism, anti British sentiment and not a jot of meaningful front bench leadership between them, putting across a strong coherent message of investment.  They have warmed to the task, buoyed by a groundswell of supporters even if they are not perhaps convincing from a competency viewpoint.

Their incompetence incredibly it seems has almost been eclipsed by that of the conservative campaign.  Basically, the main message there is that they want to sell your Nans house when she gets ill.  Now I know the policy intention is different, I know Granny has to sell her house under todays conditions and that these proposals are actually a bit fairer and at least are an attempt to tackle a great challenge.  We are all getting older.  Yet, the manifesto and campaign has been so badly managed that the message has been lost and the positivity of Team Labour has come up on the rails to join the odds on favourite in the final furlong.

Speaking politics is a bore, forgive me.  Also I beg forgiveness if your views differ from mine somewhat.  I promise you that if we sat down, you’d find me as reasonable as yourself.  I must confess to an irritation I have with how the debate is conducted these days.  Polarisation and partisan support is the only order of the day.

Let me give you an example, bedroom tax.  It is my conjecture, as controversial as it sounds, that everyone believes in it.

Think about it like this.  Take two ends of the spectrum.  Do you think that the most needy in society should be provided with housing?  Yes, I hear you collectively shrug, where is this going Major?  Do you think that those in need of social housing should be able to demand any criteria of property from the state such as a three bedroom Mayfair pad on Berkeley Square (which would be mine by the way)?  Well of course not.

Then I reiterate my point, everyone believes in bedroom tax.  The only question is where the lines are drawn.  Most people are reasonable.

On my Facebook timeline, yes, I am there occasionally, to read which folk I barely remember are now married, divorced or having kids; there are folk espousing political views.  I ask you for a third time to forgive me doing the same here.  I am not peddling a side, though my small state politics and reluctance to get too public about my wider views, probably show my hand for any discerning reader… and you all are.  Should your allegiances and sensibilities lie in other directions, be assured, I have probably voted for your team too at some stage – I tend to back the side I think will do best in charge, irrespective.

I often think that those advertising a certain side, do so in such a partisan way, it must put more people off than it persuades.  Still, thrice I asked for your forgiveness.  I hope it was forthcoming.  Since I have acted the terrible bore, I shall furnish you with a joke before we head to the Epsom Oaks day tips.

Fred and his wife Maureen went to the local air show every year, and every year Fred would say,

‘Maureen, I’d like to ride in that helicopter’.  She’d always reply,  ‘I know Fred, but that helicopter ride is £50, and £50 is £50’

One year Fred and Maureen went to the air show, and Fred said, ‘Maureen, I’m now 85 years old and if I don’t ride that helicopter, I fear, I might never get another chance’.  To this, Maureen replied, ‘I know Fred, but that helicopter ride is £50, and £50 is £50’

The pilot overheard the exchange and interjected, ‘I’ll make you both a deal. I’ll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say a word I won’t charge you a penny! But if you say one word it’s £50.’  Fred and Maureen agreed and up they went.

The pilot did all kinds of incredible manoeuvres, loop the loop, stalling and free falling before starting again but not a word was heard from the passengers. He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word…  When they landed, the pilot turned to Fred and said,

‘Christ! I did everything I could to get you to shout and scream, but you didn’t. I’m impressed!’

Fred replied, ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Maureen fell out, but you know, £50 is £50!’

To Epsom

Epsom Oaks Day Tips

Epsom is a tough course.  The sweeping fall of the ground, the bawdy crowd and the tight turn into the home straight to encounter a camber that horses then encounter.  Many a good horse from an impressive maiden at Leicester, flounder in these strange conditions.

I rate course form as a huge asset but also look for similar track form, Bath, Brighton, Goodwood.

The opener is one of those open affairs with plenty of talented upstarts to chose from.  De Bruyne looked first rate at Ripon and since Hannon has taken three of the last four runnings, we know he is keen on putting a good one in this race.  Moore is booked, what is not to like.  Nothing really.

Cardsharp actually fits my stated profile a little better having won at Brighton before probably running to a better standard when going down at Ascot.  Sense probably should lead me this way but I have a feeling that De Bruyne might be a bit better than this lot, at Ripon he beat a debut Godolphin winner by a good 7 lengths, quality can tell.  13/8.

Sixties Groove ticks a lot of boxes in the 2.35pm but given his engagement in the Curragh International Cup suggests this might be the season pipe opener with a mile, perhaps not far enough to get the best from the horse.  If they go too quick, maybe.

I am going to chance my money on an unfashionable one, Mutarakez for Brian Meehan.  Again, I have gone against my stated frame because this one has never run on a course like this and is hardly the most reliable to deliver a maximum effort.  However, signs that the ability remains were there last time out and after he hit the front at Newbury, he played up.  Kieran Fox rides again and maybe will get a better tune today.  9/1.

Fresh from completing the Guineas double double, O’Brien sends over the favourite Highland Reel for the Coronation Cup.  It is possible he needed the run in Dubai, it is also possible that he was below just par on the surface.  A Breeders Cup Turf winner and a runner up in the Arc makes it the stand out star in the race for me.

The embarrassment of Ballydoyle riches is amply shown by the fact that he also saddles the two placed horses from last years Derby, both will know their business and will run well.  With the help of triple Coronation Cup star, St Nicholas Abbey, O’Brien has won seven of the last twelve renewals,

The Appleby stable are flying with almost a 50% success rate in the last fortnight.  I am not sure Frontiersman is quite up to winning this but as a place bet, his 10/1 odds feel good.

Journey only gets a few pounds from Highland Reel but is not that far off the form having recorded a superb win in the Champion Fillies and Mares race on Champions Day at Ascot last year.  She readily cranked up the tempo that day and positively surged clear down the Ascot straight.  She could be a real thorn in Highland Reels side and at 4/1, I’ll cheer her on and burden her with my money.

Fidaawy for Stoute in the 3.45pm handicap is the one that looks to be most progressive to me.  Stoute is in good form and this is exactly the sort that he could have on an upward curve.  Yet, at some point I should remain true to my track bias and given there are plenty with good experience, I shall find something else.

The one I settled on is Imshivalla at 18/1 with Coral (14s elsewhere).  Hanagan rides for Fahey and this is the horse trying to win the race for a second year on the bounce.  It would be a third win at Epsom for the horse and it is 8lbs lower than last years win.  There the positives end, it is 8lbs lower for a reason, a series of dodgy runs, a dozen in fact, since that win have shown that the horse is not a consistent sort.  That is priced in and I’ll take a stab that a return to these conditions might light the fuse again.

In the Oaks, Rhododendron is the O’Brien odds on favourite.  The Guineas run was decent, seeking room and then running on when Winter had already flown.  Certainly, it left the impression that further would be fine.  Odds on seems a bit short though and part of that pricing is surely the fact that O’Brien has taken four from four of the British and Irish classics to date.  How notable too, that it is the only Galileo filly to line up.

I am going to go against and am looking to the Deauville race for my Epsom hints.  Coronet, another Gosden horse has been overlooked by Dettori but was doing some very good late work in France, suggesting this trip might bring out the best.  The winner of that race though carries my ticket.  Sobetsu is a Dubawi filly and at 9/1, stands a fine chance.

The penultimate race is one in which I fancy a turn up.  Mr Scaramangafinely named, currently carries an outsiders 20/1 price but may well do better.  Back in the day, there was a Brighton win suggesting the horse can cope fine with the course.  Sutter County will be a good hare to aim at.

Finally.  Black Trilby looks the sort to improve from that mark and as long as the preliminaries go well, I would be aboard the money coming tonight at 4/1.

I hope your dinner is taken in fine state.  I shall be parked outside the pavilion of a glorious cricket club in Blyth, Nottinghamshire.  It has a fine row of lime trees and with blue skies and good beer, I shall watch my boys in training.  Ah, life is good, relish each moment.

It could be two weeks or it could be two months.  Courage friends, roll the dice.

The Saturday Sermon on Lincoln Day 2017

Good evening strangers from the Major who writes from a North Nottinghamshire gently cloaked in pastel cloud, the warmth of spring clings to the skin, gentle breezes promises.

I saw ants today, marvellously successful little critters, 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, (ten thousand trillion) of them share this rock with us, all hutling round the same nuclear reactor.  Ants come in 12,000 flavours.  They are social sorts and as long as there aren’t too many of them in one go, well, I have a soft spot for the black ant that might crawl on your arm while you lie with your back caressing Mother Earth.  All shapes and sizes my friends.

We have so much to catch up on, I fear if I get distracted this easily by ants, that this might go on a little longer than is either necessary or desirable. Focus, Major, focus.

Let’s start with an apology about Cheltenham week.  In years gone by, it would have been utterly implausible that the Major who had not missed a Saturday Sermon in five years through illness, holidays, drunkenness; should not contribute during the festival?  Has his heart fallen so far?

Well no, not quite.  I was quite geared up for writing the blog during Cheltenham week.  Before attending the course on Tuesday, I published day one (a complete train wreck if you must ask) and I was formulating the thoughts for comeback Wednesday when a rather odd and alarming turn of events unfolded.

Having moved north this year, festival plans changed.  Instead of the usual Worcestershire base, I was returning to the parents place in Birmingham.  I had friends in tow, one who lives in Birmingham anyway and one who was to stay with me and my family.  We got the train back to Birmingham after racing at about 7pm with the intention of keeping our table reservation at a decent Birmingham curry house, ideal succour after the wallet has had a Champion Hurdle beating.

Arriving back into Birmingham, tired and emotional, I took one of the scarier calls I can recall.  With her permission, I shall recall the events but I shall start by saying that all ends perfectly well.  It is not that sort of drama that I provide.  No, no. We are a better set here.

The good lady called me as the cross country train came past the red tower marking Birmingham University.  Answering took me from a world of boyish free spirit pleasure, back into a real world.  The good lady asked if I would administer some ‘over the phone’ discipline to our two young boys.  She took some time to explain this to me and at first, the drinker blames himself for any incomprehension.

It is not also unheard of for a phone bollocking to be called for (I apologise for the crudeness) and at first I thought she was probably checking in on my debauched day and reminding me that none everyone was having quite as much fun.  I also shamefully recall how I felt about that, before I realised this was a medical issue, I was angry.  After all, everyone knows my year points at Cheltenham.  I kept that reaction in, after all my mother taught me not to flinch, no matter what.  Yet in the sanctity of the sermon, I can admit that yes, in the first instance, wilder regrettable emotions were stirred.

What was increasingly apparent though was her inability to describe what I was meant to be admonishing the young masters about.  A woman that was normally so articulate was struck dumb by being asked to repeat something she said just a few moments previous.

It became increasingly troubling and despite a hefty dose of brandy swishing in my system, I knew it was not me.  I am a good drunk like that, I’m the sort of drunk you go to.

The fearful reality descended on me when the good lady could not recall if she had called me or if I had called her.  Something was clearly fundamentally amiss.

The train was not yet in the station, it was busy and noisy, I had friends there.  I could not drive and I was worried for her and the boys.  My worst fear, gladly disproven was that this was a stroke.

The train pulled in, I explained to my companions that something was up and that I would need to make other arrangements.  I urged them to carry on, I knew I would be better travelling alone and needed the clarity that comes from single mindedness to calculate the next moves.

I called my neighbour.  A lovely proper sort.  From the busy and very impressive New Street concourse, I endeavoured to explain the conversation and fears that I had to my neighbour.  She agreed to go round and see for herself and report back while I investigated the return journey.

When she did call, she confirmed what I knew.  The good lady was quite happy in herself but confused and unable to retain short term information.

I would be wrong to deny that I was scared.  You take your health for granted, we suffer with the illusion of immortality, most of our deteriorations come on us so subtlety we never notice them.  To have your invincibility, or as impactful, that of a loved one, so suddenly withdrawn, it is to face the certainty we all face.  These are the good days, worse is ahead.

I decided to call for a paramedic.  What was to lose?  I persuaded my neighbour to sit in until they arrived.  I hot footed it back and joined her at the hospital.  She was in decent spirits.

Diagnosis.  Temporary Global Amnesia.  No lasting effects and rare but not unheard of for sufferers of regular migraine.  We left the hospital at 4am and even if my weariness had subsided enough for me to pen a Champion Chase sermon, the thoughts that had earlier seemed so accessible were at that point, as distant as the far flung galaxies.

I tried not to be dramatic in relaying this information at the time but I was not sure quite how to put it.  I was still processing the whole affair.  Wind removed from sails, the sermons were done for this festival.

Of course, the good lady made an impeccable recovery, such is the condition.

I have not had chance to remark on Cheltenham week as this is my first post since.  It was not a good week for the Major.  Death Duty and Yanworth were my main lines.  I did have the bumper winner which was tremendously good fun.

I thought it was a great festival.  New stars were born.  Labaik and Might Bite were uber talented and both mad as a box of frogs, it is fair to say I will be rooting for them again.  Defi Du Seuil and Yorkhill both were excellent.  We have a superb list of potential winners of the King George this year.  Un de Sceaux, Yorkill, Might Bite, Coneygree, Sizing John, Thistlecrack, Douvan and Native River.  If we get half of those there fit, we will have a superb race on our hands.

Anyway, to the Lincoln.

Saturday Sermon – Lincoln Day

A couple of years I had an absolute blinder on Lincoln Day.  Traditionally I had always felt it best left alone.  Funny ground, early season unpredictable form… it was never a recipe for my success.  All that changed in 2015 when I landed 4 out of 5 winners on the blog, two at 16/1 and my modest investment returned a tasty bag of sand.

Well us blind squirrels etc etc.

We can but hope that we strike lucky again.

Gabrial is back but carrying nearer ten stone this time round and not quite the profile I am looking for.  My pick though is a Fahey horse, Dolphin Vista, who gets Hanagan in the saddle.  Fahey has his usual strong hand in the race and the jockey booking alone suggest this one could be one of his more forward ones.  The horse has been running well with the sun on his back in Dubai and 14/1 (12/1 generally) is my play.

Crazy Horse in the mile (3pm) is in my list of bets tomorrow.  Gosden and Dettori team up on a horse I am sure there is more to come from.  On breeding I was uncertain that a bit of give under hoof would be the thing for this one but so far, 2 from 2 on good to soft.  My pick brings French classic form to the table (6th in the Poule D’Essai des Poulains)

There are of course plenty of other candidates… Stormy Antarctic gets Spencer, has group winning form and is a threat but Crazy Horse is the Major’s pick.

They have split the Brocklesby up and I’ll be darned if I even attempt to find that pin.

My last horse is a lively outsider.  At Stratford in the 3.20pm Class 3 handicap, Burchell saddles One for the Boss, a 22/1 shot (BetVictor).  When a horse has a bad run, you can forgive it, as the saying goes, they are not machines.  When a horse has three bad runs, like my pick, you have to consider other variables.  Were there underlying reasons?  Well I do think a return to this ground will help, after that, I am relying on a few vagaries

In the football, Leicester will beat Stoker 21/20.  Villa will beat Norwich 13/10 and Brentford 7/5 will beat Bristol City, that is a tasty treble.

I have no right to will you to enjoy this sermon.  I have found it hard to write over the last year, choosing moments rather than forcing words through.  I know the above is not my finest, not as interesting, it lacks a certain je ne sais quai.

I hope your dinner is hearty, wholesome, tasty and in the company of fine sorts.  Laughter.  Be charitable because more unsettled times will visit, don’t leave a debt, leave a credit, it will make you feel better.

Courage, roll the dice.