THE VELCRO PHONES
HAVING started out with Tim Easterby in 1999, I’d now got to know his uncle, Mick Easterby. Mick and his brother Peter, Tim’s father, have been legendary trainers in Yorkshire for decades, shrewdness personified, and are also renowned for the large chunks of North Yorkshire they now own on the back of it. Peter had passed on the reins to Tim in the late 1990s but Mick is still going strong, assisted by his son David.
Mick has a reputation for canny deals and an equal reputation for needing careful handling, as he’s very keen on getting his own way. Earlier in 2001, he told me that he thought he might land a touch with Itsanothergirl and persuaded me to lease her, as the owner had fallen on hard times. Itsanothergirl had been out of form in the spring but Mick had kept her busy and the handicapper had dropped her quickly to 50 from a rating of 70. Neither the handicapper nor betting public were wary of her, because it was clear from watching her races that the jockeys had been out there having a go every time she ran.
After a summer break to freshen her up, Itsanothergirl was ready to find a little handicap, and a race on an August Saturday evening at Haydock was chosen. That day I’d need the ‘Velcro phones’ with me. Operating at the racecourse required a large number of phones if a major bet was planned. Rather than carrying a briefcase full of loose phones, I had my office staff make up a clipboard with Velcro all over it. The other side of the Velcro was then stuck on the back of the phones, and this allowed 14 phones to stick firmly to one A4-sized clipboard. With papers placed on top it wouldn’t arouse any interest, as it would just look like a large pile of documents until I sprang into action.
Itsanothergirl was totally unconsidered at 20-1 on the first show, but once my troops went to war she was backed at all rates down to 5-1. The weather that evening was atrocious, with some of the wettest conditions I’d experienced at the races, but heavy ground was ideal for the mare. We felt that ten and a half furlongs was probably a maximum for her, so Mick made sure that jockey Philip Robinson would be patient with her in the first part of the race. Robinson carried out his instructions perfectly, bided his time and then produced Itsanothergirl to take the lead in the final furlong and go on to win by a length and a quarter.
The Velcro phones were busy before the race, but it was only my main mobile that was hectic afterwards as Mick was in terrific form, treating me to a full rundown of his mastery of the training profession. Mick is certainly keen to leave no-one in any doubt as to his talents. His brother Peter has plenty of stories too, but they tend to be more about other characters in racing. Only once, after a couple of drinks, have I heard him talk in detail about his Gold Cup and Champion Hurdle winners. Mick, on the other hand, will talk to you all day about his big-race successes, including with 1,000 Guineas winner Mrs McArdy and July Cup winner Lochnager.
Lectures from Mick are also compulsory on a wide range of other racing topics, including the handling of all equine problems. Indicating to him that a subject has been covered before doesn’t have any effect in shortening the lecture. For example, when breathing problems are mentioned, replying with ‘You’re a master of them, aren’t you?’ gets a firm reply of ‘I am that’ followed by the detailed explanation.
Inevitably, there have been one or two difficulties in dealing with such a colourful character. Mick approved of my total discretion with any information I received, but couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to be indiscreet with what I had heard from other stables. He nicknamed me The Gleaner, claiming that I was much better at gleaning things than revealing them. He said he would name a horse after me, which I didn’t take seriously until The Gleaner, now a winner over fences, made its debut a few years ago.
Mick is at his most entertaining when a microphone is thrust under his nose in the winner’s enclosure, and got into hot water a few years ago when he used a four-letter word rhyming with ‘hunt’ on Channel 4 Racing. Afterwards, although hardly full of remorse, Mick was full of ideas for sorting out his mistake. At first he tried suggesting that the word had a different meaning in Yorkshire. When that ploy failed, his son David received a call hinting that he should go on TV to imply that his father was senile. “Tell them I’ve gone over t’top”, his dad suggested.
David and I have become firm friends. He has already proved himself a champion trainer in the point-to-point field and will no doubt do very well when he takes over from his father. That may take some while, however, as Mick is not one to cede power lightly. Mick and I had a minor falling out a couple of years ago after I did a deal to send a couple of horses to him, only for Mick to insist on changing the deal after they had arrived. Things didn’t work out and I had to fax the trainer to point out that he had moved the goalposts. Normal relations have now been restored, but Mick obviously liked my turn of phrase because, with his finely tuned ability for writing his own version of history, he now tells people with a glint in his eye: “That Patrick’s all right, but you have to watch ‘im, he tried to move t’goalposts on a deal with me a couple of years back.”
Moving a few miles north-west, I bought Downland in 2000 and sent him to David Barron. The stable is as reliable as they come for churning out a healthy stream of winners every year, so a long spell out of form in 2001 was most unusual. By the time September rolled around, however, David thought he had his string back in form and felt that Downland was ready to win a handicap at Haydock.
The horse looked particularly well handicapped to me and I stepped in for a major punt at morning and afternoon show odds, double smashing the price from 14-1 to 11-2. However, disaster struck when Downland got loose on the way to the start and wasted valuable energy before the race began. This almost invariably leads to defeat and so it proved here, with David’s last-minute calls to the track to withdraw the horse not arriving in time. Downland finished eighth of 15 and I had done my money in cold blood.
In the expectation of him winning that day, we had made an advance entry for Downland in a major handicap at Ascot. We put that out of our minds after Haydock, convinced that he had not run well enough even allowing for the mishap. But on the Monday before Ascot, the day entries were confirmed, I noticed that the ground seemed likely to be soft and, with Downland set to carry a very low weight, I rang David and suggested we should give it a go. On the morning of the race, Downland was as big as 66-1 in the morning betting. There was no danger of my having a huge bet in a much stronger race, particularly as David’s stable was still not fully firing, but I couldn’t resist having an each-way bet at those odds despite the rise in grade.
I had been seeing the racing presenter Emma Ramsden, now married to jockey Jamie Spencer, in a somewhat fiery on-off relationship for most of 2001. She was quite an astute judge of form and, amused by my bets on Downland, correctly pointed out that he had no chance on any recent form and accused me of having a sentimental punt simply because I owned him. This followed on from the evening before when, after a serious losing week, she had suggested that I should change my title from Field Marshal to Failed Marshal.
Just after the two-furlong pole, a horse loomed up travelling ominously easily on the stands’ side. Emma asked: “What’s the one in light blue?” As calmly as I could, I drawled: “That … would be Downland.” He swept home unchallenged, winning me £159,565.55. I certainly hadn’t been confident or I’d have had bigger bets and the SP would not have been 40-1. The profit from Downland’s victory went down particularly well, recouping my losses from my week as the Failed Marshal.
Funnily enough, I was in a nightclub in a racing town a few months later where a few jockeys were partying. On hearing that I was an owner, David Kinsella, a lightweight rider who barely tips the scales at seven stone, came up to me, drew himself up to his full 5’ 2” and inquired why I hadn’t recognised his talents and given him any opportunities. I asked him what his biggest winner as a jockey had been. “Downland, September 29 at Ascot,” he answered. “So who owned that then?” I replied with a smile. Jockeys don’t all have the best of memories, you know.
The ‘Velcro phones’ were back in action at the end of October when I attended Tattersalls sales in Newmarket. Quantica was running for me in a nursery at Redcar and trainer Nigel Tinkler and I both felt he was ready to win, but we were both busy at the sales. The sales complex at Newmarket is a little bit public for organising a gamble, but we found a small annexe room that had some comfortable chairs and was quiet. We hurriedly moved in and switched the television over to the Redcar coverage. The only other person in there, English-born American trainer Simon Bray, didn’t mind the rapid change in programming, but a surprised expression stole across his face when I produced enough phones to run a small call centre and started using them in feverish fashion. The betting show came through quite late from Redcar so I was still receiving calls halfway through the race – which Quantica won by a couple of lengths at 10-1, having opened at 14-1.
It was a busy day at the sales, so as soon as we knew the result Nigel and I stood up, shook hands, and without saying a word grabbed our things and went back out to the sale. Gambling with bookmakers is illegal in most US states so I don’t think Simon had ever seen anything like it. The look of amazement on his face was a picture. With a profit of £128,587, that little room at Tattersalls became known as the ‘coup room’.
A plan that failed to come off involved Three Days In May, the horse I bought and named after my epiphany at the Curragh and the bonanza betting period that followed. She landed a gamble for me at Thirsk in 2002 but didn’t really progress, so I just wanted to win another little race with her before selling her at the end of the season. She looked to have a squeak in a moderate six-furlong handicap at Lingfield, and William Haggas and I felt that as she had nothing in hand with the handicapper, it was worth using an apprentice jockey whose allowance would reduce the weight she had to carry. I suggested Natalia Gemelova, who was based with Nigel Tinkler. Natalia wasn’t the strongest apprentice in the weighing room but she could claim the full 7lb allowance. Her name on the racecard also had the bonus of being highly likely to increase the starting price of Three Days In May, as bookmakers would reason that a high-powered Newmarket trainer like William Haggas was unlikely to book a girl apprentice for a fancied runner. Three Days In May went off at 20-1.
I was convinced from recent evidence that the quickest ground that day would be on the far side. Conventional wisdom indicated that the far side was only the place to be when the ground was soft, but conventional wisdom won’t get you far in this business and I believed that my analysis of recent results was correct. Our draw in stall one of 20 would also help.
The plan worked a treat for three of the six furlongs. At halfway Natalia was making her way home in splendid isolation on the far side, but we all know what happens to the best-laid plans, and this one went the same way. Three Days In May ran a fine race but found one too good in the 16-1 shot Seel Of Approval, who won by a length and a half from stall 4 (at least I was right about the low numbers). Seel Of Approval won again next time out and picked up four races the following season, whereas Three Days In May never won again. With the benefit of hindsight, Seel Of Approval was an absolute certainty that day. It was only the large advantage of the far-side ground that allowed us to get so close to him.
Curfew was another horse to give me great pleasure, not least because she was one of a handful to race in my name and colours. I’d bought her after a stunning performance at the breeze-ups and she was sent to be trained by James Fanshawe. After she’d won first time out as a two-year-old, I decided to use my own dark blue and beige colours as we were hoping to campaign her in a higher grade. When I rang James to ask how she was progressing, he said: “Put it this way, I’d like to find one who can go past her.” He thought she was his best two-year-old and word from sources in Newmarket suggested that most in the yard felt the same. I had a nice bet on her at 7-2 when she won on her debut at Yarmouth in a seven-furlong maiden, and in the late summer of 2003 she picked up three seven-furlong handicaps within three weeks, culminating in a quite valuable contest at Salisbury.
New Year’s Eve in 2002 saw me tucked up in bed early, as soon as I’d seen the new year in, as I knew I had business to do the following day. Mr Pertemps had been moved from Stuart Williams to Richard Fahey, as Stuart reckoned he had become bored by Newmarket and would benefit from a change of scenery. After a couple of months, Richard reported that he had freshened up Mr Pertemps and he was working well at home. With a handicap rating of only 38, he was well worth backing next time he appeared.
With a horse rated so low, there were very few opportunities, but we found a small race on New Year’s Day at Southwell. It seemed certain that Mr Pertemps would open up at a big price as he had been totally out of form when last seen in the summer. As Richard’s stable was increasing in size, I felt it best to take a price in the morning, despite the weak market, just in case there was a leak. I hoped that the New Year’s Day market might react more slowly than normal as bookmakers struggled with their hangovers.
I was up very early with a clear head and, with internet coverage not as wide as it is today, I was soon hunting around central London for a newsagent that was open. Most people on the street at that time were straggling home after a very big night and morning, I think I was the only one walking straight. I eventually found one on Oxford Street and returned to the office. Most of my soldiers were dragged out of bed by 9.30am and were set to move in at 10am. Mr Pertemps duly opened up at 20-1 with quite a few firms and we took all that was available at double-figure prices. That afternoon, Channel 4 were covering racing from Cheltenham, but they drew plenty of attention to the gamble that had taken place at Southwell. They even showed the race, despite not planning any coverage from the track, and their viewers were treated to the sight of Mr Pertemps strolling home by three lengths, proving in the process that he was much better than a 38-rated horse. The attention was entertaining, although not ideal in terms of keeping my horses low-profile, and certainly got the new year off to a flying start.
After further successes, I later left Richard’s yard following a lengthy bad run during which horses failed to perform as expected. One of the horses concerned was Mr Lear, who won twice in succession over hurdles despite Richard being very pessimistic about his chances each time. There’s no doubt about Richard’s talent as a trainer, but what had happened affected my confidence and we had a parting of the ways, although we remain on good terms. The Mr Lear story provides further confirmation, should any be required, that my horses are doing their best whether I’ve backed them or not.
Something that happened earlier, though, is still recollected with great amusement by my friends. Richard phoned me one day to say he’d received a letter addressed to me, care of the yard. It was a fan letter from a punter, who wrote that meeting me at Ascot a few years earlier had been the best day of his life. How nice of him to say so, I thought. In the next paragraph he went on to mention that his life had not been easy of late, as since our happy encounter at Ascot he had been sectioned! My friends have never let me forget that my only fan letter was sent by a madman.