In the days
before syndication became as big business as it is nowadays in Australian
racing, a group of old school friends from Melbourne got together and bought a
broodmare in the hope of one day breeding a Cup winner. Road was her name, a daughter
of Whiskey Road.
The Cup
dream hasn’t yet been realised and, in keeping with most people’s experience of
racing, there’s been plenty of heartbreak interspersed with the happy occasions
when a number of Road’s offspring have saluted at the track. The mare died a
while back but one of her daughters, the nine-time winner Spaceage Juliet, now 19
herself, is keeping the dream alive.
The friends
called their syndicate ‘The Empire’ and their shared racing interest has in
many ways provided the means to uphold strong bonds that stretch back more than
four decades to primary school. The Empire has expanded over the years and,
back in 2006, I was drawn in to its embrace.
Although it has become the norm to refer to racing as
an industry, let’s not
forget that it started as a sport. Many of us working in racing came to it
first as a fan and later were fortunate enough to be able to turn it into a job.
I also now live in a small racing stable and the success of the horses trained here
by John means so much to us that I tend to go to the races filled with worry
that something will go wrong. Sometimes it does, and sometimes that means that
I enjoy racing a lot less than I used to. It has become a business, even if it
started as, and remains in many ways, one of life’s unmatchable pleasures.
That’s part
of the reason I have enjoyed the involvement with the Empire horses so much.
We’re removed from them geographically and though we take great pride in being
a very small part in their lives, watching them grow and eventually race, to a
great extent they are someone else’s concern.
More than
that, however, they are the stitches in the fabric that holds together a fantastic
group of people with an age span of five decades, spread across Australia, Hong
Kong, Dubai and England. Regular emails between us, which have evolved into
what’s app messages, would always be signed off ‘GTE’ – Go The Empire.
John’s
friendship with this group goes back farther than mine, to the days when he was
pupil assistant to Luca Cumani in the 1980s and working alongside Joff Dumas, who eventually returned home to Australia but remains one of John's greatest friends. Joff is
really the one who holds the whole thing together. He has the thankless task of
being the syndicate manager, of collecting fees, of refereeing discussions over
naming the horses and deciding which stallions to use, of delivering news from
trainers and stud managers, both good and bad.
Joff, with
his brother David, and old school friends Cameron Plant, Dan Happell, Patrick
Stock and Mark Ritchie, formed the original core of the Empire which now runs
to 18 members. Eighteen friends.
The most
recent horse we raced together – unsuccessfully, sadly – was a grandson of Road,
named Thousandmilesaway. All of the mare’s descendants have been named after
songs by the Empire’s favourite band, The Hoodoo Gurus, and Thousandmilesaway
seemed particularly appropriate given the geographical spread of the group.
In recent
years, my work for TDN has taken me to
many places around the world. Any trip to a major race meeting is a thrill but
being away from home frequently can sometimes be a little disorientating.
Fortunately, on travels to Melbourne, I know I’ll see my Empire friends. It’s an
extraordinary feeling spending almost 24 hours flying to the other side of
world and stepping off a plane to find yourself very much at home. That’s what
their friendship has given me, along with a deep-rooted love for Australia.
Many of the
Empire members have stayed with us in Newmarket over the years and the most
frequent visitor among them was Cameron, whose work also caused him to be away
from home often. For the last four years he’s been based in Dubai, meaning I
could see him annually, at least, when at the World Cup meeting.
Cameron also
took a share in a horse with us in Newmarket. Perhaps only an Australian could
view a ‘short’ six-hour flight from Dubai to the UK as being perfectly feasible
in planning to see the filly race.
In recent
weeks, as the news around the world has united us all in a common fear, there have
been several upbeat bulletins from Wangaratta to give the Empire a little lift
in times of trouble. Adrian Corboy has been pre-training our two-year-old
gelding by Puissance De Lune out of Spaceage Juliet and, in his own inimitable
fashion, has relayed news that this one ‘might be alright’.
While we
have all come to accept bad news on the equine front over the years, on Easter
Sunday the news Joff had to deliver to us all was of an altogether more
desperate kind. Cameron, more than halfway through a fortnight’s enforced quarantine
in Melbourne after arriving home from Dubai, had taken his own life.
It is
unbelievable even to have had to type those words. To think of the person that
I only ever knew with a smile on his face to be gone just like that.
The dreadful new normal of all our lives in the last few
months has been to switch on the television and hear of an ever-increasing death
toll. The relentlessness of the bad news is almost
numbing but, to many of us, there are no names and faces behind these numbers
to make them seem real.
There is now a different reality to those of us who
were lucky enough to call Cameron a friend. He didn’t die from coronavirus, of course, but it’s hard not to
connect his demise to being isolated at a time of his life when he needed more
than ever to be among people he loved and who loved him.
We’ll never
know if the outcome would have been different without the pandemic constraining
everyone’s lives. Perhaps not. But what I do know is that it has robbed us of the
chance of spending any more happy days with him at the races.
Perhaps
people will read this and think ‘there’s more to life than racing’, and of
course there is. Much more. But what racing gives us is the chance to forge
friendships with people from different parts of the world who we’d never have
met otherwise. And it means that as race meeting after race meeting is
cancelled in the pandemic’s wake we know that, for a while at least, we will
miss not just the sport we love, but also those regular meetings with friends. At
a picnic in the car park at Ascot, on the rail at the pre-parade ring at
Newmarket to cast an eye over Classic hopefuls, in the bar afterwards to celebrate
our winnings, cut our losses.
This loss,
however, is one which will be keenly felt for years to come. The technology we
all rely on these days means that we’re never really that far apart. From
Dubai, Cameron kept a close eye on our runners in England and I knew that,
without fail, he would be the one person to send me a message pre- and
post-race on any day that my mare Hope Is High was running. He sent messages of
support and solidarity when things didn’t go her way, and took as much pleasure
in her winning as I did. And that’s one of the special aspects of a racing
friendship – that shared joy in someone else’s success.
There will
be more days in the sun for the Empire even if for now it feels as though
darkness prevails. And when we are all able to meet again at the races, Cam
will be with us still in heart and mind, his camaraderie and love of the game
galloping on through every horse we are fortunate enough to share. GTE.