"I'LL PAY!" CUP DAY AT TRENTHAM.
THEORIES AND THOROUGHBREDS. (By CA.M.)
To the casual visitor this year's Wellington Cup, run and won thirty-nine times, was like any other Cup. There was the same old crush for the early trains, the .same old crowd stampeding before the "ring" and the totalisator, the same old band "plunk — plunking" on the lawn, and the same old people who won, or who should have. The Governor was new — His Excellency watched his, first Wellington Cup on Saturday — and ' the prospects for the modest "ring" were new, too, for, if the law stands, the "ring" will never more challenge openly at Trentham the shrewd public with extravagant odds. To-day the bookmakers have made hay while the sun shone, and Wednesday will behold them for the last time here valiantly combating the pernicious influences of the machine. The lav/ has decided that "the old firms" shall dissolve, shall take down their signs and put up the shutters. The sword of Damocles lias threatened for a considerable time, and on 31st January, 1911, it will snap its thread and descend very definitely. Then the "tote" will have the racecourse betting to itself, at least, on paper. No more, after that date, will the "ring" sing its lively chorus : "I'll pay Bolsover — I'll pay," when that lovely animal has toppled over at the brush and a 20 to 1 something has come in "on its own." For the songs and the singers will have departed, and the gorgeous signboards will have been banned. Then the odds layer will seek fresh fields, or stand for Parliament, or live on other people's money- 1 - money gathered at many a "hot" meeting. Conceivably some will turn to work. WAS IT AN OVERSIGHT? On Saturday the "ring" betrayed no signs of cowering from the doom that is slowly descending upon it. Spailanhearted, the ' " bookies " forgot tomorrow, and threw their odds into the warm sunshine in their usual generous fashion. Their hands were well occupied in accepting the anxious gold of punters, while, for variety's sake, they here and there gave handsome return to excitedly fortunate individuals who had struck a " double " or a fat dividend. Race after race the " ring " came up to the scratch smiling, and played the "tote" at its own game. Were they downhearted ? Never ! Thai was probably an oversight on the part of a firm which sent oufc its cards to clients thanking for past favours^ and requesting patronage for the more notable events in 1911 up till New Zealand Cup time. Who will come to aid the punters' uncle and discover a loophole ; in the Act which will admit the "bookie" and his bag? Doubtless it would be made worth while to the successful investigator. GRASS LAWNS AND "HOBBLE" SKIRTS. As the train alid through the inteivening stations to the gallops, the northerly made pretty indentations on the water and pas-seul'd down the roadway smotheringly. From beneath its draperies motors rushed into view and out again,' courageous horses crawled, and pedestrians loomed phantom-wise. But for the racegoer the trimmed lawn and the paddock held compensations. The asphalt (is it asphalt?) patch in front of the machine struck back at tho sun fiercely, and a green coating would cool its ardour. On the lawn beauty ambled in "hobbles," keeping time to the unswervingly faithful band, fearful of attempting too often those steps. The world has known the crinoline, the "dress improver," and here is the "hobble.' But women are jDatient, long-suffeiing creatures! That bold, black beauty, Maori King, sauntering round the saddling paddock, munching, stood almost upright at the sight of ""a white "hobbled" serge with bla-ck cloth shoes, extravagantly neekd. peeping in and out. Here was a robe as perilously close-fitting as a Canadian costume, especially when the wind blew. There, a Whistler study in white, this time with an alluringly sweeping black hat. Here a carelessly displayed ankle, thick enough at times, but always elegantly stockinged. There a dowager attempting youth, but defeated by adipose tis3ue and an inferior rouge. And so on. CUP RUMOURS. Naturally, chief interest centred on tho big race, the Cup. Intermittently regular, the squadrons of thoroughbreds had patrolled the bird cage, had rushed past playfully in the preliminary to the pulsing of a rhythmic band march, fled from the barrier, and — home! and then the wind heartlessly strewed the wrong tickets, whirling them whole and piecemeal through the summer air. The crowd thronged to the Tailb i,o see the blood horses parading solemnly before the mile and a half gallop. Hist! A stranger with a blonde moustache and an air of secrecy whispered that all was not right with the Cup field. He twirled the left wing of his lnoustachioa whilehe spoke of an alleged "jockeys' race," of a ''frame-up" for a golden coated racer who had come many miles to snatch this prize. Tho "confidential adviser" told how the owner of a gallant mare, hearing something, had looked for an ante-post enquiry, for the stewards to assemble the "boys" and tender them a few helpful words of advice, which might assist them to a. clear run home. But there was nothing doing in this line. MISCHIEVOUS* MISS MISCHIEF. Little rumours spun about aimlessly, but always flying. Cute backers studied the horses, then the prices on offer, and wandered away uncertain. What was it to be? • The flying Mies Mischief, favourite since her Auckland runaway, carried a load of gold and Hector Gray, who would have been displeased if the mare had been scratched as had been one tim© rumoured by; careless people. Southernera xelied on the 6plendidly quartered and elegant racehorse Los Angelas, a great home horse, 'tis said, and who, Iretting, had a big stain of perspiration, along his barrel and under hk flanks. "Oliver's luck," the whisper went round, but the big fellow, on the outside all the way, found the weight, and the boy could not come away without the horse. The hot favourite smothered her field in the race home, after being badly cut out at the back. "If Emerson had been up ehe would have won by a dozen lengths,' 1 hazarded a veteran sport. Would she? Anyway, it was a pretty race. And, it is said, the filly at one time narrowly escaped being sent to her owners' station to be used as a hack, and that on the advice of a superlatively endowed trainer ! IX AND OUT OF THE BIRDCAGE. As far as looks went, Los Angelos and Maori King stood right out as horses of class. Miss Mischief had a two-year-old sister in the Nursery, and in the line for home this Treadmill youngster, badly placed, fairly rushed through the field right on the post, and was probably second. She finished like a whirlwind. (Sunburnt, a typical Multiform, with symmetrical lines, had a coat that carried a subtle shimmer of gold, and n stride that cub down the staccatostepping thick-muscled St. Toney at the end of a slick five easily. Then there wafi tho peaccxiky Dearest, full sister to a champion. One punier finished, up_ hut
doubles with Buckley's filly, standing to win £1700, or thereabouts. But Gipsy Belle ! Crotchetty Full Rate, with plenty on top of him,, made an exhibition of himself at the barrier in the Telegraph. It would be pertinent to ask here how he came to stand like a sheep at the tapes at Palmerston. In a privileged enclosure it was told by one who had seen the Cup run thirty times or more that the oldest racing man in New Zealand was present at the gathering, watching the silks flash up ,and down the straight. The veteran brought Soult out to New Zealand, and some ■wa-g, when he saw the St. Simon son, wanted to know if he was to be used to breed polo ponies. (Come up Solution, Master Soult, Soultline!)' HOMEWARD BOUND. It was a strenuous rush for those last two trp-ins, especially when one had nob the solatium of "collecting." But it was a good-natured enough crowd that stood on one another's toes, or had to suffer in silence and be strong. The day was very gentle as the last train dragged its heavy load to the city. The course had lost all its glamour, tho horses were under cover, the battle had been postponed, and the spent ammunition strewed the deserted paddocks.
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Evening Post, Volume LXXXI, Issue 18, 23 January 1911, Page 3
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1,399"I'LL PAY!" CUP DAY AT TRENTHAM. Evening Post, Volume LXXXI, Issue 18, 23 January 1911, Page 3
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