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DAVID CARR |
Weblog: What do you mean the Wi-Fi doesn't work? The life of a Racing Post reporter
I've got the power - well, a little bit of it
What an honour. The trainer of the favourite for the Ayr Gold Cup wants me to help him win the big race. Me.
James Fanshawe wants me to represent him at the draw for Saturday's race, talk him through it over the phone and help him make that oh-so-vital choice of stall for Mac's Power. Me.
Told Tom O'Ryan. He'd actually been asked but couldn't do it as he was MC-ing the ceremony.
Told Gordon Brown. He'd been asked but couldn't do it as he wasn't going to be at Ayr in time.
Didn't tell anyone else - just in case the cleaner told me they'd been asked but couldn't do it as they were too busy mopping.
Won't be able to claim a great deal of credit if he wins anyway. I spoke to the great man for a good ten minutes, going through my idea of all the likely pace angles in the race so we (he) would be ready to make an intelligent choice of stall.
But Mac's Power was the fifth out of the tombola drum, long before the race had taken any sort of shape and before any of the speed horses had come out.
And it took Mr Fanshawe about a hundredth of a second to tell me to go for stall eight, which was what he had wanted all along, and reveal a telling statistic that meant it was the place to go.
He had clearly done his homework, which was more than the trainer of one winner this afternoon who immediately told us that the horse was tough and would run again on Saturday.
A nice tale - until it turned out that he had forgotten to declare him.
At least he didn't throw water over me, unlike Declan Carroll. To be fair, his aim was actually to cool down Swiftly Done, who deserved it after a fine run, and the horse got most of the contents of the bucket - and if some of it accidentally splashed onto the man from the Racing Post the trainer cannot be blamed.
Wasn't the most unusual sight in the parade ring.
That was the cheery man in a light blue T-shirt I saw, smiling and leaning against the fence, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of running water.
Turned out he was filling a bucket from the tap, both of which were hidden from view so that from where I was standing it looked like . . . well I think you can guess what it looked like.
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