AT ADDINGTON ON CUP DAY

Press, Volume LXX, Issue 21315, 7 November 1934, Page 10

AT ADDINGTON ON CUP DAY

Record Breaking Race GREAT CROWD AND FINE WEATHER The promise of fine weather and fine racing drew to Addington yesterday one of the largest attendances in recent years, and on neither count were expectations disappointed. It was a field worthy of the first trotting event in New Zealand, and when Indianapolis swept home at the finish of a magnificent Cup race in world's recoixi winning time, backers of the champion Harold Logan must have had little cause for disappointment in their favourite's splendid run to establish a new world's record for a placed horse.

The grounds made a sunny picture. After a morning of uncertainty as to the weather, with occasional cloudy periods, the sky cleared, and towards the start of the Cup the sun shone brightly. There was bnly the lightest of winds, neither strong enough nor cold enough to keep gay spring frocks at home, and the lawn and stands were sprinkled with flecks of every rainbow shade. This was the time of pleasant expectancy, as the race of the year .approached. A dense crowd, a mass of humanity ever changing and ever moving, was packed round the totalisator, and it was linked with these waiting and watching in the stands by a continual stream of passers-by, picking their way between chatting groups. Every type of race-goer could be recognised among the crowd. There were the ripe of age and experience, field-glasses over shoulder, and race-book in hand, discussing form and prospects with the solemnity due to the occasion; the frankly frivolous, bent on a "flutter," and sceptical of any claim, however well attested, to ability to make a profitable choice; girls making their investments with innocent confidence in the wisdom of escorts; and the host of enthusiasts, some betting and some merely watching, all with the indefinite pleasurable realisation of the near approach of an important event. A Difficult Choice On the lawn books were out and tongues were busy as the strollers compared judgments and weighed chances. It was warm in the open, but none the less all available sitting and standing room was occupied in the stands, and still the crowd drifted over the rise to find a vantage ground for the race. Gradually the stretch of green was obscured. Scraps of conversation caught at this stage indicated that few sportsmen were really_ confident of having made a certain judgment. With such a field uncertainty was inevitable. Indianapolis was favoured, but if Harold Logan could recover his handicap, and if the scratch horses could make the most of their advantage, there was a prospect of such close running that any forecast at all was a difficult and doubtful business. "There's no good thing to-day," one man was heard to say, which meant rather that there were so many "good things" that it was hard to say which would prove the best. A large crowd has just as plain a way of showing its feelings as any single person. As the horses appeared, each drawing its brightlyclad charioteer, the murmur of conversation stopped and there was a slight sound of applause. It was a time of silent expectation while the horses gathered on the far side of the course for the start. The Race They were oil". Nobody said it, but everyone in the great crowd knew it, and eyes were strained and positions changed in an effort to distinguish the colours of the distant horses. The track was dry, and as the field came round a moving cloud of dust followed, enveloping drivers and horses. Passing the stand for the first time the limit horses were still in front, but there were cries of "Harold Logan," when it was seen that the pacer had made up the better part of his handicap and was within striking distance of the leaders. There was silence for the most part. It was clear that the race was a battle of champions, and the crowd was content to await the issue. On a stand in the enclosure the gold cup stood. It had been earlier the centre of some interest, but all eyes were now turned to the track where its fate was being decided.

Coming into the straight ior the last time, Indianapolis led, maintaining with a winner's determination the speed of a long sprint. Again there were cries of "Harold Logan," as the champion was seen lying third. Shouting and applause rose from the stands, and Indianapolis passed the post, winner of the New Zealand Cup. The rest was a matter for conversation. But when all was said that could be said about bets won and lost and the performance of this horse or that horse, there was the one satisfying conclusion that it had been a great race and one worthy of the champions which made it.