FIRST NEW ZEALAND CUP

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22102, 4 November 1933, Page 18

FIRST NEW ZEALAND CUP

WHEN TASMAN WON FIFTY YEARS AGO WINNING JOCKEY’S MEMORIES The first New Zealand Cup was run at Riccarton 50 years ago, and (says the Press) the rider of the winning horse, Tasman, is still alive and very hearty. He is Robert Derrett, at present living at Riccarton, who in the eighties and nineties of last century was leading horseman of New Zealand. The Cup, which was previously known as the Canterbury Jockey Club Handicap, was first run in 1865, the name being changed in 1883. Derrett, an exceptionally active man who might very well pass as less than 60 years old, refuses to disclose his real age. It varies, be says, with the weather. Sometimes it is 16, and sometimes it goes as high as 23, but as a general rule, he maintains that it is 21.

The first cup was a great race for Tasman’s jockey, who was commissioned to ride him only at the last moment. The popular fancy was Nonsense, and the mare had been heavily backed with the bookmakers, who in those days were the only betting channel. There was a lot of money on Nonsense and also on Cheviot, but a magnificent race gave Derrett on the lightly-backed Tasman the verdict. MEMORIES OF CARBINE.

Dcrrett’s first winner was ridden on Riccarton in November, 1879, just 63 years ago. His last was ridden at Ashburton in 1908. Between those years he handled hundreds of horses, including the great Carbine. Carbine actually passed into Dcrrott’s hands for a short while, and during his ownership won several races. Mr D. O’Brien had bought Carbine at Sylvia Park for about £6OO, and vvas thoroughly disgusted with his ungainlylooking purchase. Ho offered to take £IOO less for the horse, and Derrett accepted the offer. Transfer papers were never actually signed, as the two were working in co-operation. Carbine started winning, and Mr G. G. Stead offered Mr O'Brien £2OOO for the horse, which on Derrett’s recommendation was refused. Carbine eventually went to Australia, and became so famous that by the general public he is one of the few of the early horses that is remembered.

Carbine -was a very lazy horse to ride, and had to be pushed along. One of his mannerisms was an exceedingly slow start, because, unlike most other horses, he did not wheel round -when the flag dropped, but insisted on taking his own time and plenty of space for a leisurely turn. Of all the horses he has ridden in races, Derrett remembers Trenton, another Musket horse, with the greatest affection. He went to Australia, and once ran second in the Melbourne Cup. "Trenton was a great horse,” Derrett says. "He was the most generous mount I have ever had.” Derrett’s life baa been lived among horses. He is one of the type that motor cars have driven out of existence. He can recall with no effort the pedigrees of horses, their sires, and their dams’ sires, mounts which were prominent performers in the early eighties and before. He talks . with affection of the days when Stormbird, Nottingley, and Natator were the favourites of the course; when Christchurch had a 'real " nobility,” recognised as such; and when 'Jimmy Self, Drake, Harris, and a dozen others made the books.

His house at Riccarton, which he acquired 56 years ago, with the proceeds of a good win from Fishhook, is filled with sporting records that go back more than half a century. On the walls are pictures and prints of early meetings in Canterbury and in England, of horses, and portraits of great riders like Tom Cannon, George and Fred Webb, the Donoghues of their day, « One picture of particular interest, and one that gives its owner great joy, shows Riccarton course, with the finish of the Canterbury Cup of 1878. Templeton is just passing the post, with Fishhook and Natator in that order, behind him. The stand, built in 1864, is crammed with celebrities of the day, the “ nobility ” in the best seats, the sporting fraternity lined along the rails, and the ordinary people accommodated on the roof. The artist painted most of those present from life, aud Derrett can recall many names. DECLINE OF RACING.

Like most men of mature years, Bob Derrett shakes his head sadly over the condition of the sport of racing in this present generation. “ Owners,” he says, never watch their horses training now. Their greatest display of interest is on the morning of the race, when they will possibly ask the trainer whether the horse is worth 30 bob.”

Like the rest of the sport, training and riding, especially riding, have in Derrett’s opinion suffered a decline. ‘ “ There are more horses ruined by the boys these days than by the galloping by a long way,” he says. “You see them jerking the horses’ heads about and misusing them. That is the surest way to spoil a horse's character.” The decline of the interest of the public in the horses that make the races is for him a subject for sad reflection. Very few people now can appreciate the make and shape of a horse, or give even a wild quess at its quality. Racing for most of its followers has become a commercialised proposition. Derrett says that one of his chief pleasures now is to get somebody intelligent to talk to, but he finds it almost impossible to run across anybody whose memory goeg back sufficiently far. His success he attributes to a strict rule to go to bed early. < He was continually in hot water with friends wdio objected to him leaving some celebration too early “I’ve seen hundreds of them who had their chances,” he declared. “They all fell down for want of that little bit of self control. I remember one chap who had £IOO about a horse to win, and another £IOO to keep it from winning. He took both lots, and eventually won the race.' Drink killed him in the end.” Bob Derrett is still active enough to work alongside men 30 years his junior. He keeps his absorbing interest in gallopers and in music, which has been a hobby all his life.