HOW I LOST THE GREAT SUMMER STEEPLECHASE.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume III, Issue 105, 28 July 1892, Page 7

HOW I LOST THE GREAT SUMMER STEEPLECHASE.

By

Jonathan.]

That last yarn of mine about winning the Great Northern Steeplechase on Silver was appreciated, you say. Well, well ; who would have thought of me, plain Jonathan, telling anything that could be appreciated. Why, I’ve put some real dainty things in the horseflesh line before some people, and what did they do ? \es,

what did they do ? Why they reckoned I was “a loonnak,” who ought to be in the Whau 1 But they had to admit that Jonathan was right after all. But what’s the use of talking. I got no thanks for wagging my jaws so freely. Yes; I remember I was going to tell you some time ago how I lost the Big Summer Steeplechase, only I had to go home “to spank the cows.” My word ; you must have milk to keep the pot boiling if you can’t win steeplechases. It was a great go that Big Summer Steeplechase. I wonder now how I lost it, with all due respect to him who was the judge. There was The Planet, a fine strapping nag, who had a light weight which suited him in the heavy going that day; there was little Silver, who was giving him lumps of weight; and there was another prad in the field that day, Ikey Mo, who just about cooked my potato. I could see how the race was likely to pan out. It was between The Planet and Silver. Dick Screwin had the mount on the other bloke, and he’s not a bad rider —at anyrate he wasn’t in them days. When we got fairly going Dick set the big fellow sailing, making the most of his light weight in the heavy track, and quite right too. My little fellow had a big enough load to carry over such a course, but I didn’t mind that for I knew he was game enough, but then I had to take in account Ikey Mo. who was steered by Pat Crickev. For two and a half solid miles that chap did nothing but bump my little chap about, knocking all the stuffing out of him, when he wanted to get the country and make a, decent finish. I was wild, I can teib'you: I was ramping. I’ll tell you whr/t; if I had been on my own horse I would have hung Pat Crickey up to dry in the wire fence, and he would have been hanging there now provided somebody did not cart him away. But I had to win if I could, and therefore I could’nt do as I would have liked. The Planet kept leading me by a chain or two chains in the last round, and I could see by the way the beggar was going, and the determined way Dick was riding him that there was trouble for me. Up the hill. < ver the jumps there, down the other side and over the stone wall he went, and then I came at him. It was no use “ acting the goat ” any longer, though, mind you, I wasn’t in a way, only I was boiling at the way Crickey had been trying to dish me. Well down that straight it was hammer and tongs between us. The good lovely stuff was hanging out, and you bet I meant to win if I could. That’s the time you want your nerve and headpiece all right, when it’s see-saw all the way along. The people who yell and shout when the horse they have backed wins don’t .understand the strain a chap has when it comes to a desperate finish. Let some of them try it, and then they will know what it is. Yes; stride and stride, neck and neck, we came along, took the last hurdle together, and ran locked together for the post. The rest I can’t tell you. I reckon I won by a head, but the judge gave it, “ The Planet by a short head.” That’s how I lost the Big Summer Steeplechase, and some day when we are all together I may tell you another from ‘ the diary.” So long !