All the world loves a champion. Even as I sit here now, I still get a bit of a tingle at the memory of Frankel's thrilling victory in the Guineas. Rolling straight to the front, then proceeding to tear the heart of the opposition will long live with me. I suppose the one thing that will never escape me, was the absolute shock I got at the way he set about his job that day. Who expected Queally to press the go button so early in the race? I certainly did not. But this sort of thing is what so often sets the greats apart from the rest. The breathtaking, unexpected nature of their deeds. As much as I'd like to continue revelling in the efforts of the greats, for they are the stuff of legend, I think I'll leave that for another time. For now, I'd rather wander off down a road less travelled. When it comes to the cream of the crop, massive thingies of trees are daily shredded in the never ending worship of their glories. That said though, even more greenery is pulped supporting the crap that allows us to take a flier at some God forsaken course, five miles byond the small town at the back of nowhere. Even in this digital age, vain glorious people such as I, can be seduced by the thought of paper. I only have to hit "print." On reading the above, one could easily be led into believing this to be little more that the rantings of a left leaning Greenie. Ok, I'll put up my hand and plead guilty the Greenie tag, but this is not about politics of one kind or another, it's pure horse racing. I'd like to dedicate this effort to the battler. To the little bloke who strives to make an impact in a sport where all too often, the stinking rich make sure that the little guys only escapes with the crumbs that fall from the big table. Bunch of pricks. Sure the top hat brigade may in some circles, be lauded as the backbone of the industry, but I say chewy on their boots. Drink champagne and dance all night while our gallant little scrapper shovels never ending piles of steaming horse poo into a rusty bucket in his or her rented stables? No way I say, it's a bloody outrage. A pox on them all. I'd much prefer to dedicate my time to racing's punching bags. The one's who with much dedication, manage to rise above the mundane. It's about now that I'd like to introduce you to a horse called The Cleaner. He's certainly no champion, and manages to get his stuff done at a rung, a step or two below where the big boys play. But he's about to get a chance to amble his way onto the centre stage. The big arena. He's to get a chance to compare appendages with the biggest swinging dicks in the business. He's earned himself a start in the much vaunted Cox Plate, a $3,000,000 race. So, what's the big deal? The big deal is that despite being only a few steps above average, The Cleaner has built himself one hell of a fan base. Some are claiming that he might just be the most popular horse since Mr Ed and Francis the talking mule. Now Mr Ed and Francis might be much to you muckers, but to us Australians, they're right up there with those superstars of stage and screen, Gilligan and the Littlest Hobo. If ever a horse could be a bulldog, it would have to be The Cleaner. I don't know why it's so, but the Brits love to think of themselves as bulldogs. Maybe because they don't wash and love to lick their balls, who knows? But if ever a nation should embrace a brave hearted soul, it's you no tubs from the far North. The great unwashed and The Cleaner, it fits hand and glove. Bought at the 2009 Magic Million Sales for just $10,000, The Cleaner has cleaned up for his owners. With his gritty, all the way win in Friday night's Group 3 JRA Cup at the Valley, the pride of Tasmania boosted his earnings to $848,271, and it ain't over just yet. He might get run over in the Cox Plate, but his stirling spirit will see him return to the winner's enclosure in the not too distant future. Roll on the Cox Plate. Hopefully he'll get to the front as usual, and run a bold race. With some luck, he'll have them all off the bit with a half mile to travel. And if there is any justice in this world, every Terry two bucks in the land will cheer him on. The horse may have lost his gonads, but he certainly has balls. The link below is from Friday evening. He was asked for an effort a fair way out, and defied them to run him down. For God' sake, will someone pin a medal on his chest? http://www.racing.com/videos/2014-09-26/the-cleaner-sparkles-in-jra-cup
