Sunday, 20 October 2013

European Pattern 2013: Group 1 Sprints

Here they all are (see below). Today I learnt a little bit about HTML code FFS.

Some thoughts:

(1) We may now, as the cliche goes, breed for speed, but still the European Pattern fails to provide a Group 1 sprint for 3 year olds.  The fastest of the Classic generation must try their luck over a trip too far in one of the Guineas, or else wait till June when they must take on their elders.

(2) This would have been an indifferent season had it not been for the 5 year old mare MOONLIGHT CLOUD, who was simply far too good for an indifferent bunch of sprinters. The pivotal race of the season was the Maurice de Gheest, in which the emerging Lethal Force was put firmly in his place. Moonlight Cloud really blossomed this year, unbeaten in four runs (so far - she may go to Hong Kong in December) and versatile enough to beat some good Group 1 horses in the Jacques Le Marois - her first win at the highest level over a straight mile.

(3) Over 5f Shea Shea looked the part in Dubai, and to my surprise failed to land one of the Group 1s over here. Mugged in the King's Stand, the Nunthorpe looked tailor made - but some late rain (perhaps) sealed his fate. With hindsight they shouldn't have run him in the July Cup (perhaps). In any case, this wasn't the first time a star in the making had failed to kick-on from the desert.

King's Stand (5f): SOLE POWER



Golden (Diamond) Jubilee (6f): LETHAL FORCE



July Cup (6f): LETHAL FORCE


Maurice de Gheest (6.5f): MOONLIGHT CLOUD


Nunthorpe (5f): JWALA



Sprint Cup (6f): GORDON LORD BYRON



Abbaye (5f): MAAREK


Foret (7f): MOONLIGHT CLOUD



Thursday, 17 October 2013

Champions Day and its place in the European Pattern

some interesting thoughts from Lydia Hislop on the sportinglife website today:

[The creation of] Champions Day has caused all sorts of upheaval, the repercussions of (and reproaches for) which are still ongoing.
And yet the day itself is a good idea, even if it doesn't ever quite achieve its own full ambitions. It is a rousing end to the domestic campaign of the international-facing older European-trained horse. It is a top-class day's racing conducted in an atmosphere that conveys importance but also celebration. It is exciting. It is fun.
What it is not and will never be is the only option for every horse you'd ideally like to run there. Horses with an edge at a mile-and-a-half will naturally be trained for the Arc. Owners and breeders with ambitions to crack the American bloodstock market will (in the medium term at least) look to the Breeders' Cup. The real money in this sport is in breeding, now matter how much you chuck at a day's racing.
The first two editions of Champions' Day were blessed not only with the phenomenon of Frankel, the best racehorse I've ever seen - perhaps the best ever - but also by the lucky fact he was trained by Sir Henry Cecil. He was rarely tempted by what America had to offer and certainly did not deem the Breeders' Cup an appropriate target for the horse he knew so minutely.
Which is not to say either Champions Days to date were only about one horse, even if they were overwhelmingly about him. Cirrus Des Aigles, Excelebration, Nathaniel, Immortal Verse, So You Think and Snow Fairy made for a couple of stellar casts. If you have Fame And Glory, Deacon Blues, Dancing Rain and Rite Of Passage in small print on the promotional poster, you know it's special.
Clearly, its position in the calendar is a high-risk affair. Coming after the big weekends in Ireland and France (as it will more explicitly in future) might lend finality or crescendo. Yet, as Cheltenham will point out with regard to Aintree and Punchestown, that logic doesn't necessarily follow.
What it undoubtedly does risk is bad weather affecting play. It threatened to with soft ground last year, but we - and Frankel - got away with it. This year, we haven't been so lucky: Declaration Of War, Toronado, Sky Lantern, Trading Leather and The Fugue were all ruled out of Champions Day due to the prevailing weather. If you site the day in mid-October, that's going to happen.
So move it. Not so simple, if we want to stay on good terms with the rest of Europe or, more accurately, with France and Ireland. Every change to a Group race - date, distance, venue - has to meet the approval of the European Pattern Committee, which attempts to balance the desires of its constituent countries to make their united calendar work to the objective benefit of the European-trained horse.
Sit down, Nigel Farage. Your work here is done. It's as trendy as talk of a referendum to propose leaving the European Pattern. For example, John Gosden has spoken about it. "It is nearly 40 years old and I rather think it belongs to a bygone era. It's probably got a bit overblown," he said.
Let's stop and think about what this would actually mean. We could put Champions Day where we like; mid-September, perhaps. We could instantly make the Sprint and Long Distance Cup Group Ones. In fact, we could rip up the entire British Pattern and re-fashion it how and where we liked. (Obviously, we'd all agree on the details, wouldn't we?)
But there would also be nothing to stop Ireland placing (or, rather, keeping) the Irish Champion Stakes on or adjacent to the same weekend. Or France routinely clashing its best races with our own. So be it, you say. May the best race win. In every case, for every Group race in the calendar, may the best race in Europe win. Good luck with that, everyone. Good luck with that, Epsom. Good luck, Sandown. Good luck, Newbury and Doncaster. Among others.
It might in practice mostly mean may the race with the most money win, which is fine while you're minted. (We're all feeling financially flush at the moment, after all...)
Yet it would be arrogant to assume a sponsor will stick around forever. It's all very well that we've grown a foot taller with the engaging, long-term and munificent backing of QIPCO, but is it wise to be instantly throwing our weight around in the playground? What happens if (when) the others catch up? Or we fall?
Also, can anyone plausibly argue the arms-race that a unilateral approach to the Pattern would inspire is an objectively good thing for the horse? If different countries try to out-muscle each other from the prime calendar spots with similar races, how will the racehorse benefit? One or two might win a bit more prize money in one race, but they will lack structure to their seasons.
Furthermore, calling a race a Group One would not make it a Group One even if the prize money justifies it. It needs Group One horses to be running in it; otherwise it's a sham. The European Pattern currently exerts checks and balances that should make every Group race earn its billing.
Granted, these rules could be enforced more rigorously but the net result of removing them entirely and permitting individual countries - even, more terrifyingly, individual racecourses - to run their own Group races is likely to make the Pattern more, not less, "overblown".
Breaking from the European Pattern would also undermine the consensus achieved on matters of handicapping and weight-for-age. Again, you might argue some short-term advantages, but the reality would be an anarchic, impractical and confusing tug-of-war.
Given it is the participation of horses trained in Ireland and France (and, perhaps increasingly in the future, Germany) on which British Champions Day greatly relies, any move that divides the attention of those key horses, their owners and breeders - as well as Britain's own - is surely self-defeating?
In requiring conversation and a degree of consensus to make changes, the European Pattern makes itself and its individual components more robust. Even if it is annoying and restricting to be forced to discuss and negotiate, its endgame is more lasting and constructive for this worldwide sport.

Monday, 14 October 2013

Champions Day

Three Group 1s coming up at Ascot on Saturday.

QE II
A pity Filthy and the team haven't supplemented Afsare...
QEII entries
story

CHAMPION STAKES
Champion Stakes entries
story

FILLIES' & MARES' STAKES
F&M entries
story

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

I drew a map of Canada

In the way that one thing leads to another, I've been going through a Canadian stage.

Finally read a few stories by Alice Munro. She's only 82. And lately I've been listening to a lot of Neil Young because on Father's Day Billie gave me his autobiography. Waging Heavy Peace is the book he wanted to write, which is not the same thing as the one we'd have liked him to write. A bit like his albums really. But that's OK because you wouldn't go as far as to say it's a book "unrepresentative of Neil Young".

Joni Mitchell mentioned her "memoirs" recently. Whether something ever emerges remains to be seen.  In the meantime Michelle Mercer's Will You Take Me As I Am is an intelligent piece about Joni's "blue period", which in her view extended as far as the 1976 Hejira album.  The main focus, though, is on the devastating Blue album of 1971, one of the most exquisite collections of "intimate" songs I've ever heard (she'd rather not be labelled "confessional").

In early 1970 Joni, 26, felt she needed a rest. She'd been "at it" relentlessly. Her second album Clouds was about to pick up a Grammy. Its successor, Ladies of the Canyon, including the iconic Woodstock, was ready for release. Instead of promoting the album, she took a break.  Her personal life, she admitted, was a "shambles".  Her relationship with Graham "Our House" Nash - whose own memoirs are due out next month - was either over or drawing to a close.  She wanted some time to herself.  "You need solitude to make anything artistic," she'd said in January.

So off she went to Europe: France, Spain, Greece, Crete, leaving behind her beloved Martin D-28 guitar but taking, of all things, a mountain dulcimer, on which she composed some of the songs that would emerge on Blue a year later.

I've been thinking about the songs on that album:

Little Green - her adoption song - had been written years ago in her old style (voice + acoustic guitar) and now was the time, she must have felt, to put it out there. "At that period in my life I felt like a cellophane wrapper on a pack of cigarettes," she said years later.

River  - one of the great Christmas songs - was written on piano towards the end of 1969.

Carey, California and A Case of You - dulcimer songs - were probably all conceived while in Europe. Carey and California, in fact, serve as a kind of travelogue, with their references to the places she visited, her fling with Cary Raditz in Crete, her longings for home.  A Case of You, one of her most famous songs, is more elusive. It seems to go way back, beyond Graham Nash, to the time in '67 when her love for the inconstant Leonard Cohen "got lost".


My Old Man is a piano song which could also have been written during her travels ("Maybe I'll go to Amsterdam, maybe I'll go to Rome," she sings in Carey. "And rent me a grand piano and put some flowers 'round my room"). Perhaps it was started earlier - who knows? Certainly by September 1970 it wasn't quite finished (she presented it at her BBC concert as a work in progress, one verse short).

Then in late 1970/early 1971 (probably - I'm guessing) came Blue and This Flight Tonight. Neither seems to have been performed at the few gigs she played between July and November, and both sound like James Taylor songs, her latest flame.

All I Want and The Last Time I Saw Richard - the album's opening and closing tracks - were added at a late stage.  In fact Joni had to call back the master tapes and substitute them for two other songs.  It's one of those happy serendipitous rock and roll moments.  Can you imagine this album without those perfectly formed bookends?

Someone should write a book about these songs - do for Blue what Ian MacDonald's Revolution in the Head did for the entire Beatles catalogue. About their honesty and musical subtlety, about the end of the 60s and its "descent into drug depression", as Joni called it, and about the timeless human tensions between the need for love and freedom.


Monday, 29 July 2013

I'm in love with a girl

Sunday was a good day.  Cooked scrambled eggs for Debbie the slow way.  Took her on a cheap date when the sun was high for a bag of chips and a 99.  Later we had the good luck to mind baby Oscar and Ruby while Dom & Kate went to watch a film. And later still together we lay down.

Managed to do a little lone exercise earlier on and felt pretty good about it.  Read the opening chapter of the novel Stoner by John Williams which shows some early promise.  And Phil Taylor won the darts. Yet this wasn't a day for solitary pursuits.



Sunday, 28 July 2013

The man that hath no music in himself

Not an intimation of mortality, just brief waves of dizziness when I lie down at night or rise in the morning.  I didn't even think to tell the doctor at my check-up the other day.

He was happy enough with my blood pressure. No need to increase my dose for the time being.  But I've put on half a stone in four months.  He said I should lose a stone or more, and he's right.  I'm well over 14 stone - and I've been tired.

Went for a walk yesterday, and even added a brief run back up the airstrip. As ever, thoughts were muddled: about books I've started lately and not liked, about the unproductive life, about how to go about building a barbecue and what I might do to surprise Debbie on her 50th. About how I'd likely do nothing about any of this. About the slippage of decades.

Watched a programme on Channel 4 about music: When Bjork Met David Attenborough. We saw the amazing patterns made by different sound vibrations on films of sand, and were moved by the impact of remembered tunes on the elderly in dementia. Attenborough talked about the evolution of the larynx, the sound of the lyrebird and the mathematical structures of music. Oliver Sacks talked about the brain's almost total engagement with musical sound. These old octogenarian boys can teach us still.

I was reminded of Lorenzo's melodious chat-up lines to Jessica:


And then, having backed Phil Taylor at 11/8 in the outright market, I watched the darts.

Sunday, 28 April 2013

A matter of some delicacy

I can remember precisely where I was when I first saw the film The Lavender Hill Mob. But my memories of Kind Hearts and Coronets are hazier. I was a good deal younger, that's for sure - perhaps in my early teens.

I could remember that it was quite unlike any other film I'd ever seen.  Here was something aloof and sophisticated and yet very dark, as the "hero" Louis Mazzini calmly set about killing off anyone who stood between him and a dukedom. I could remember what everyone else remembers: the novelty of Alec Guinness playing a multitude of doomed cameos. And the ending had also remained with me, as neat and elegant as a satisfying chess pin.

So, watching it again after all these years - what else?

A sharp twinge of sexual excitement when Joan Greenwood appears.  Over the last 35 years or so, I must have harboured a long suppressed lusting for the shameless Sibella.


What really struck me, though, was the smartness of the script. I could watch this film several times over and never tire of its wit.

I'm easily pleased though. In the right context, a simple phrase like I had fortunately learnt to swim at the Clapham Municipal Baths is enough to set me off.

Here the "humour" is cruelly detached:
The advent of twin sons to the duke was a terrible blow.
Fortunately an epidemic of diptheria restored the status quo almost immediately.

Here we find Mazzini, who is after all half-Italian, reflecting that revenge is the dish which people of taste prefer to eat cold, beating The Godfather to it by over 20 years.

And so on, and so on.

Where did my love of film go? In my formative years I was lucky enough to have a small black and white portable television in my bedroom.  And that's where I'd go to watch whatever was on, alone, including all those classics of British cinema, faithfully screened by the BBC. And I'm glad that I did.

"It is a colloquial rendering of course." The Reverend Lord Henry D'Ascoyne,
a little displeased by his guest's dubious demonstration of the Matabele language