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DAVID CARR |
Weblog: What do you mean the Wi-Fi doesn't work? The life of a Racing Post reporter
Fame is not the spur
Destiny, destiny, there's no escaping destiny. 'Young Frankenstein' comes to Wolverhampton.
What chance did Louis Steward have? Surely he was bound to end up as a jockey.
Not only is there that name but he's always followed racing, his uncle owns horses Sylvester Kirk and Richard Hannon and he's light - he did just 7st13lb this afternoon.
Which was worth his while as the 17-year-old rode his first winner on Tigertoo.
Though we could wheel out a 'Stewards punish steward' headline as he was later given a one-day ban for not keeping straight from his draw.
Controversy of a different sort after the two-year-old maiden.
Is the winner Moviesta pronounced moo-vee-ess-ter, as some of us had imagined, or movie star, as highly accomplished young commentator Gareth Topham called him?
Unfortunately owner Harry Redknapp was not here to settle the argument.
You'd think with no Spurs - or England - to manage he'd have made it, particularly as success was far from unexpected for a horse sent off 8-11 favourite. But somehow he managed to resist the attractions of Dunstall Park.
(Being the professional that he is, Gareth then went away and did some digging and found - to nobody's surprise - that he was right).
Easier to understand the absence of Invigilator's owner Sean Warren. Impossible not to be envious as I heard he was on a beach in Spain, while I got soaked speaking to trainer Derek Shaw in the pouring rain.
Odd postscript to the Moviesta's triumph as a young racegoer longer on enthusiasm than sense leapt in front of the At The Races camera, pulling faces and shouting. Before he realised that they were not broadcasting and slunk away shamefacedly.
One last thought from Saturday, where a young lad collared me on my back to the car with a shout of "Oy, you were on The Morning Line this morning."
Which was perfectly true and though he joked that I'd caused him to back Camelot he was - as are all racegoers who tend to approach you on course - polite and interesting to talk to (he'd been on a stag do and I suspect he was the most sober survivor).
But it was still eerie. Something similar had happened when I appeared on Blockbusters back in 1983, a young lass pointing me out to her parents in a crowd.
Decidedly unnerving and once every 29 years is plenty often enough for me.
What it must be like to have it happen every second of every day doesn't bear thinking about. Celebrity is clearly overrated.
If your fairy godmother offers you the chance to swap places with David Beckham - or Victoria - I'd say no.
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