I never thought I would say these words, but a good piece in the RP from Lee M...particularly like the last interaction between Cecil and the Yanks...
By Lee Mottershead at Santa Anita7.39PM 4 NOV 2009
IT IS every bit as beautiful as you've heard. And then a bit more. If you were planning to go to Doncaster on Saturday, don't - come here instead. Just this once, it will be worth missing out on the
November Handicap.
At this precise moment, I am sat typing in the Santa Anita press room, although it's not actually a room. Asthey don't seem to get bad weather here, the rows of work stations for reporters are situated on an elevated outdoor position just past the winning post. Directly in front of me - David Ashforth (Racing Post) to my left, Liz Price (Paris-Turf) to my right - is the main track (brown), then the grass track (green), then the San Gabriel mountains (huge and stunning).
If you can't get here, read about it in the Racing Post - and live on racingpost.com - and watch it on At The Races or Racing UK. It's going to be something special.
So many of the world's best horses, trainers and jockeys are here for a contest that seems to be increasingly billed by the locals as racing's very own Ryder Cup, no doubt partly because the locals managed to win the latest golfing showdown. I'm a jumps boy at heart, but it's impossible not to enjoy a Breeders' Cup at Santa Anita, even if it turns out that I'm allergic to the Pro-Ride racing surface. For the last three days, I've been sneezing my head off, but
Rip Van Winkle doesn't seem be suffering the same affliction, so don't worry if you've backed him.
Speaking of Aidan O'Brien, the great man is here and behaving just brilliantly. For European journalists, much of the morning is spent waiting outside the racecourse quarantine barn in the hope that one of our trainers turns up and says something. At about 8.45am on Wednesday (4.45pm at home), O'Brien turned up and for around 30 minutes nattered happily, interestingly and informatively about his California contingent, only breaking off briefly to make sure that his children and those of Johnny Murtagh were going to get themselves some breakfast at Clockers' Corner.
Said corner, situated near the top of the home stretch (note use of Stateside jargon), is a wonderful place. It's here that everyone turns up for breakfast. Coffee seems compulsory, which is handy as our American friends so rarely get tea right, but the food options are many. One possibility is the Bob Baffert breakfast, a $4.75 feast that incorporates scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, avocado slices (I know), toast and a choice of bacon, Canadian bacon, sausage or ham. While I was there this morning, one man asked for a fried egg sandwich, to which the server responded, and I kid you not: "Do you want eggs with that?"
I didn't see Sir Michael Stoute down by the the Corner, but I did follow him on foot for a mile and a half while he walked with
Conduit and
Zacinto. The great man, who loves to tease journalists, knew full well that a press pack was following him, but at no point decided to have a few words. How we laughed.
We also had a giggle when Henry Cecil, who has so far decided not to sport a baseball cap, had a bit of a conversation with an intrepid American hack. The exchange went a bit like this:
Reporter (USA): "Whad'ya think o' Santa Anita?"
Cecil (Eng): "I'm sorry."
Reporter (USA): "Whad'ya think o' Santa Anita?"
Cecil (Eng, head to one side): "I'm sorry."
Reporter's friend (USA): "What do you think of Santa Anita?"
Cecil (Eng): "Oh, I see. Well, I've only been here for five minutes, but it seems lovely."
Reporter (USA): "And have you been here before?"
Cecil(Eng): "No, it's my first time."
Reporter (USA): "Don't worry, I've not been to Wolverhampton."
Cecil (Eng): "Neither have I."
And then they went their separate ways. They'll be back on Thursday, but I doubt either will ever make it to Woolybags.