Group One Cyril will make sure that Press Statement gets his fair chance to win a race or six
Hugh Bowman – Press Statement
Bowman got caught in no man’s land three-wide on a farcical pace and elected to nothing. Didn’t go forward, didn’t go back, he just sat out three-wide without cover and gave himself no chance.
Hughie must have been watching Damien Lane’s ride aboard Red Bomber at Caulfield (see below) and forgot that this was a time honored weight-for-age Group 1 classic, not a lowly sales-restricted set weights race.
The connections of this class galloper must simply be tearing their hair out. First Tye Angland murders it in the Sydney spring, and in the process makes the weak-gutted Exosphere look like a champion, then Bowman slaughters it in the Randwick Guineas that with a half-decent ride it would have won by half the length of the straight, and then look what happens today.
I’m going to slip the owners Cyril Small’s mobile number. He’s hungry for a winner and at least they’ll have the comfort of knowing that the great man will have it a mile out in front at the 800m and it will never get caught three wide or in a pocket ever again.
Hugh Bowman’s 1st audition for the Comedy Club
Kerrin McEvoy – Black Heart Bart
In the same race, on a day when everyone but the village idiot knew the inside was off McEvoy elected to go the inner rather than follow the winner through and hook around it’s heels.
Anyone jockey who had done his video form and watched this class galloper sit and sprint his way top group victories in Perth would have know he needs to be taken to the outside, but McEvoy clearly didn’t bother doing his homework.
And thus declared himself the undoubted village idiot of Day 3 of the Championships.
James McDonald – Havana Cooler
Once upon a time James McDonald was a hungry young genius who would do whatever it took to win a group race. Sure he got touched up a couple of times in Melbourne as a young bloke when the locals ganged up on him to make his life a misery, but he learnt from his mistakes and bounced back to show them what was what.
Young Jimmy is a multi-millionaire at the age that most bright young things are just finishing uni, and holds a lucrative contract as the number one jockey for the Sheikh, and while he is still among the riders in Australia, if not the world, the unquenchable thirst he once had to win on every horse he rode has been replaced by a commitment to do whatever it is the stable wants for their horse.
A year or two ago he would have pushed out and won this race on Havana Cooler. But clearly the nag is being set for the Hollingdale at the Gold Coast or the Doomben Cup – or both – and so rather than push through the gap and brush aside those on his outer Jimmy chose instead to take the safe option and check of heels to allow his mount the open space to run home impressively without giving it a hope in Hades of winning.
Great for the stable, sh*thouse for punters.
Perhaps its time to stick to backing McDonald ridden mounts in their Grand Finals, and forget about following them in their lead up runs along the way.
Craig Williams – Dissolute
I’ve been of the opinion for months that Williams has lost his timing, and leaves his runs on most horses way too late.
This shocker merely reinforces that view.
Craig Williams – Tarquin
William Pike – Just About Everything Horse He Rides
Willie rode a double today, but given the cattle that he gets legged upon that’s nothing to write home to Mama about.
Twelve months ago this bloke could ride a broomstick to win a Group One, but his persistent habit of trying to be George Moore and find the rails run home instead of seeking clear space costs him far more winners that it earns him.
A northern hemisphere summer stint is what Willie needs to re-educate him in the magic properties of clear running room.
Kerrin McEvoy – El Sicario
Just seven days ago McEvoy gave us a masterclass in front-running race-riding when he steered Galante to victory in the Sydney Cup and made his rival hoops look silly.
Admittedly it’s much easier to ride a French Derby winner from the front than it is a Kiwi maiden.
But seriously? This was one of the most ill-judged rides you will ever see, and McEvoy dead set needs to give himself a punch in the head.
Jim Byrne – Love Spy
McEvoy’s front running slaughter job on the Kiwi may have been bad, but Jimmy Byrne’s effort on the favorite in the 2yo at Toowoomba made him look like George Moore.
Why the hell did he persist in kicking up trying to hold the cat on his outside out when they were going like Usain Bolt over the first couple of hundred and there was daylight between the pair and the rest of the field?
Is there any logical explanation as to why Byrne didn’t simply let the lunatic on his outside cross, ease and sit a couple of lengths off it’s heels, and give his mount ta chance to settle then ping on the turn?
What on earth has happened to the once sublime skills of the former Brisbane premiership winning jockey? He’ll be riding quarter horses out of the chute and down the Gympie straight before long of he keeps this up.
Hugh Bowman – Target in Sight
More interested in conducting a running battle with battling jockey Mitch Bell and keeping him in a pocket than he was in digging his nag in the ribs and putting on a spurt.
Admittedly his mount is a notorious gay deceiver, but surely punters silly enough to keep backing it deserved better than this from Sydney’s best jockey.
You can only guess that Mitch Bell must have recently tried to crack on to Hughie’s missus. What else could explain this brain explosion of a ride?
Hugh Bowman’s 2nd audition for the Comedy Club
Damien Lane – Red Bomber
Sitting three wide without cover at Caulfield over the mile ain’t usually a recipe for success, but thanks to the handicapper somehow Damien Lane pulled it off aboard the spectacularly weighted Red Bomber.
You wouldn’t want him to ride every favorite like this though, don’t you worry about that. If he hadn’t been kissed by the racing fairy recently young Lane would have a hell of a lot of explaining to do after this shocker.
Darren Flindell – The Card
The worst caller of Sydney racing in at least a century, Flindell is simply a shocker.
He may well be suited to the small fields in the dishlickers and the predictable racing of Hong Kong, but Flindell is well out of his depth in the big city of hopes and broken dreams.
The bloke can’t judge the tempo of a race, constantly misreads how a horse it travelling, almost always missed the steed storming up the inside, and hasn’t picked a photo finish correctly since Jesus played full-back for Jerusalem, that is when he has the pillars to have a go anyway, which ain’t too often.
Thank God I’ve got Foxtel because if I was listening to this bloke call them over the radio I long since would have put a bullet in my head.
Would someone please bring back Mark Shean?