The small outback town of Emu Gully straddled the Gunbarrel Highway with all the aplomb of a sumo wrestler's backside on a bicycle seat. It was hardly a pretty sight, but it certainly caught the eye. What there was of the place extended down each side of the freeway, and a couple of streets back. The good citizens had gone to great lengths to camouflage the aged appearance of their beloved surroundings, by throwing a heap of paint around the place and planting all manner of growing stuff along the footpaths. Catering for some five hundred souls, Emu Gully had a couple of pubs, three churches, a supermarket, a school and various other enterprises that all communities need and desire. But on this particular Saturday afternoon, the place was all but empty. Everybody was at Boulder Park, the local race track. It was Emu Gully Gold Cup day. The course had drawn a more than generous crowd. It wasn't just the regulars who were there that day though, for so too were the flash, cash laden travelers from up country Wallabadah, there to support their pride and joy, an unbeaten three year old colt called The Snake. He'd won his only two races at two, then opened his new campaign at three with four cracking wins against his own age group. He was a flying machine who usually hit the ground hard then proceeded to mercilessly run his opposition into the dirt. But he'd proved himself to be more than just raw speed. He'd actually missed the jump in one of his races, yet had proved much too good on the day. He'd been set alight by his rider Whizzer McGee and circled the field with a devastating sprint, then cleared out in the run to the post. The closest anything had got to him in any of his appearances had been four lengths, and even then, he'd gone to the post with his head on his chest. But today was a giant step up for the youngster. This was to be his debut in open company. His owner trainer Mumbles Hayes had thought long and hard about whether to take up the challenge, and in the end he had been swayed by the mammoth weight advantage his colt was to receive. He knew that he'd need every single ounce of the edge, if he was to roll the evergreen champion on his own home track. The saving grace as far as he was concerned was the eight stone five his charge had been allocated, as against the imposing ten stone twelve that had been heaped upon the giant, black horse called Thunderbolt. The seven year old Bail Up gelding, (so named in honour of the legendary bushranger Fred Ward, aka Captain Thunderbolt) had earned himself a fearsome reputation on the country cups circuit. With his regular rider Stumpy Miller aboard, the seventeen hand colossus had blazed across the racing landscape like a raging bushfire, destroying anything and everything that had the misfortune to stand in his way. His cups tally to date stood at sixteen, and it was hoped by the locals that he'd add yet another scalp to his belt, by winning his fourth Emu Gully Gold Cup on the trot. The locals had made many a killing over the last few years and they hoped for more of the same here. They knew the weight of money that was expected in the betting ring for the blow in, would see the champ's price drift, and when it did, they were going in boots and all. It was to be a good old fashioned betting duel where nothing but blood was to be left on the floor. Stumpy and the horse's trainer and part owner Aub Tanner, had spent many a worried hour trying to nut out a strategy to off set the weight disadvantage. In the end, it was decided that the best way to tackle the problem, was to take it by the throat and shake the living daylights out of it. They felt that The Snake would probably go hard, which suited them fine. What they didn't want however, was for the colt to take a breather mid-race. They wanted to make the mile trip a test of wills. Although they feared the two and a half stone discrepancy, they knew that their seasoned war horse would not lie down when the gauntlet was finally thrown to the ground. The plan was to put the colt under the blowtorch and see if he could withstand the intense heat. One way or the other, they were going to make sure that the three year old earned his stripes. By the time Aub had thrown Stumpy aboard and hustled across to the tin roofed structure that housed the ring, there was but a couple of minutes of betting time left. He was stunned at what he found. He had been told no more than half an hour back, that his horse was at round the 6-4 quote and that The Snake was a 2-1 shot. Thunderbolt was now out to twos and the visitor had been hammered into an ugly shade of red. He was also quick to notice that a number of satchel swingers had a wild eyed look of fear about them. It seemed to him as though a few of them had badly over committed themselves. The onslaught must have been one hell of a spectacle. Aub sussed out where he needed to be. He moved across to stand in front of three rather desperate looking gentlemen who recognized him immediately. They knew what he was there for and they wanted his business. The trio all had ugly looking ledgers, and they were desperate to tidy things up a little. As soon as the old man had ground to a standstill, Big Bill Wozniak rolled Thunderbolt out to 9-4. Aub claimed him for four and a half thousand to two. The other pair of fielders could have jumped off their stands and punched Big Bill then and there. Aub Stanley, trainer of a bush champion, scythed his way through the crowd and headed for the concrete stairs that led to the lawn in front of the grandstand. As he arrived, he instantly felt the eyes of a great many fall upon him. He was a well known commodity in this part of the country. He headed for a vantage point on the first level, about fifty yards from the winning post. As he did so, a sea of race goers parted for him, allowing easy passage to a place from which he'd have no trouble watching the entire race. The humble man thanked them as he went, and graciously accepted the good wishes of those who offered them. Once in place, he trained his binoculars at the starting stalls on the far side of the course. The amber light was flashing atop the metal monster and the horses were being loaded. The din of the excited patrons quickly began to subside. The air was thick with expectation. Aub looked about, he was amazed to see that people were actually holding their breath. It was eerie. It was almost as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere. The moment the gates were sprung, a resounding roar from the crowd, descended on the course with all the power of a tropical cyclone on an outback dunny. Thunderbolt had stumbled out of the stalls. He had missed the kick by a good length and a half. The Snake on the other hand had got out with his usual gusto and had taken a nice sit about three off the lead. Had the erst while Whizzer, pride and joy of the McGee clan, known of the champion's plight, he may have been a little more proactive in his tactics. But it had been decided by his connections that if he was to get the mile, he would have to be ridden on the cold side. McGee put him on the steel and cuddled him, one off the fence, for the first three furlongs. The pace up front was nice and solid. A blue mare was bustling along at a good clip, a couple in front of The Snake who had a traveling companion on his inside. Another pair followed. Three adrift came Thunderbolt who had the company of a wall eyed gelding, and two off and already being hard ridden, was the Wanton Woman. As they thundered towards the half mile post, Stumpy knew that he could no longer wait. He let loose the hand brake and a mouth full of expletives at the same time. The more he swore, the angrier he got, the angrier he got, the better he rode. He turned the air blue. The big horse knew what was needed. He pinned back his ears, lowered his head and put his heart into the job at hand. Before he even saw him, McGee knew he was about to be attacked. In a couple of giant bounds, Thunderbolt had ranged up alongside The Snake, and the two then launched themselves head long into the much awaited confrontation. Together they shot past the leader and set sail for the home corner, still a furlong away. The Snake on the inside, now being ridden for dear life, quickly took full advantage of the massive pull in the weights, and drew a length clear. McGee on the Wallabadah Wonder was leaving no stone unturned. He drove the colt around the bend and headed for the post. Thunderbolt was flat to the boards. In desperation, Stumpy was into him with the cane. He was still a panel away as they straightened out, but he was now firing on all cylinders. With Stumpy pumping for all he was worth, Thunderbolt dragged himself up on level terms with The Snake with a furlong to run. McGee was forced to call on the persuader. For a few strides the colt responded, but his reprieve was short lived. The champion had the young upstart by the throat. In full cry, Thunderbolt charged to the front and proceeded to put a decent space between him and his now vanquished foe. As they crossed the line Stumpy stood in the irons and smashed the air. He knew that this was to be the beginning of something really big, a trip to the big smoke. Aub had decided that if his charge could stand up today, then he deserved a shot at the big boys in the city. Stumpy was one happy man as he pulled the champ to a standstill. Categories: None 0Share
Another lovely story, Cyclonic. How yer keeping? Have you been watching the IPL? Great tournament! I've been very impressed with your Shaun Marsh-I've never watched him before; get him in your test side!
Hi Tam, how are you? Pop onto the horse racing forum: http://www.not606.com/forumdisplay.php/151-Horse-Racing
We need all the help we can gt Tam. You probably know already, Shaun is the son of the former Oz opener Geoff Marsh who played 50 tests. Like racing, I guess that the gene pool can sometimes be passed on.
