| PEOPLE |
YEAR: 2010
 |
| Bev & Stan Moore with Fake Chance |
After the dust and grime of the city, Stan Moore's Rangiora property is a stark contrast. I feel like I am looking at a biscuit tin lid. Birds twitter so loudly from dense green hedges it is almost overwhelming. Walking to lift the latch on his fence - the type where the crescent of metal has to be lifted, a wide gate opened and then the metal returned to its nook - the only sound, aside from the birds, is the noise we make crunching on gravel. Hearing the gate hinge creak, Suzy, a boisterous bundle of white fur, greets us at the door, loudly yapping and running in circles.
Bev Moore is in the kitchen. We had trouble navigating the rural letterbox system and are 20 minutes late. Stan couldn't hang around lollygagging waiting for us to arrive. "Oh, look, Stan's just down with the horses. He's only been gone about quarter of a hour," Bev says, drying her hands on a tea towel. "He said,'I have to go and do those horses'. He is down there, I'm sure of it. Unless he's hiked off on me. We just had our 50th wedding anniversary, so I don't think he will leave me now." She points to a block of stables a short distance away while Suzy jumps about our feet, barking. "Suzy, that's enough of that! She loves meeting people but she's too overpowering."
Suzy escorts us to the gate and runs around in circles barking, only becoming silent once our feet are once more crunching the gravel down towards the stables and still regarding us with baleful eyes.
My brother trains horses. His name's Phillip, but most people in the industry know him as Prop. Stan does and, as racing people are often prone to do almost without thinking, offers me the breeding of horses he thinks Prop had something to do with - their dam (mother), sire(father) and relevant wins. Prop had a lot to do with the notable horse Lyall Creek, and through his association with the Butt family, has had his share of Cup Day excitement. I've seen stables with salubrious fittings, ones equipped with hi-tech swimming pools and showering systems that look like Club Med for horses.
Stan's boxes may be vintage and feature more than their fair share of cooing pigeons and their droppings, but they're immaculately mucked out and the five horses eyeing us while we chat look beautifully cared-for.
Stan and Bev have lived on the property for 44 years, after spending the first six years of married life farming and milking cows. "Not too bad a spot here," Stan says reflectively. "Keep out of the wind and you're all right. It's a cold wind, that easterly."
For the first time, Stan's eyes smile as he proudly introduces his horse Fake Chance, a nine-year-old gelding by Fake Left. "I'm going to give him a jog. I'm going to swing him on behind on the lead. He needs a bit of loosening up after a trip up and back to Kaikoura yesterday. Two and a half hours there, and two and a half hours back, and then a race. It's a big day out. He never got in to the race at all, got submerged at the start, stuck on the second row and never got a run from there on in." Fake Chance, otherwise known as Herbie, as if to illustrate Stan's point, stretched a hind leg like an old man getting out of a chair.
When we visit it is Tuesday, exactly a week before Cup Day, and Stan is unsure if Herbie's going to get a start. To give you an idea of where Herbie sits in the scheme of the NZ Trotting Cup, fixed odds for favourite Monkey King are at $3.50. Herbie's adds are $81. "We're hanging in there for the Cup, there's four of us hanging in. We don't have a start as yet, do we Herbie? There's four horses vying for two spots at the moment. That's how close we are to getting in or getting out."
He doesn't care if he wins the Cup or not, all he wants is to have a horse in the race field. And when I asked him who will get his bet on Cup Day, he replies: "Stunin Cullen." Still, having Herbie in the top race would be a nice birthday present for Stan who turns 74 on November 16. "We tried last year and missed out. We're just not quite up there when those real good ones get the advantage, they're just that little bit slicker. It's the staying side of things where Herbie can figure."
Should Herbie get a start, Stan has no plan of attack for the race. "I'll just keep training the horse and keep him up to it. It's a tough race. I have others in work at the moment. One's qualified and the other one's not. Herbie is it and he's nine years old, he's not going to go forever." Two horses geared up and waiting to go for a jog are tied to a post. One is resting a hind leg, and looks like a woman of certain disposition leaning against a bar.
Stan and Bev bred Herbie themselves. His granddam, Debbie's Chance, won six races. "She's our other good horse." Our conversation is interrupted by two yearlings pawing the gate next to us with their front hooves and Stan strides off, grabbing a small stick wedged into the corrugated iron fence next to the paddock. It is clearly stored there fo this purpose. He waves it in the air above him, and the two cheeky horses inch backwards with their ears pricked.
In preparation for the Cup - a race that lasts mere minutes - Herbie has been in work since winter. Stan gets up before the sparrows each morning to take him for a jog or fast work on the beach, because it's good for his legs. Herbie's that is. "He's been in work since winter time. Normally they don't start quite as early as he did. We took the option we might try and win some money then rather than now. It's harder to win it now and compete against these other horses."
Stan takes Herbie's cover off to reveal a glossy coat. Together we try to get Herbie to pose while photographer Dean Kozanic smilingly makes a comment about never working with children and animals. Stan makes clicking noises with his tongue. Herbie presses his nuzzle into Stan's chest for a pat. Grabbing a lead, Stan decides to take Herbie out of the box so we can get a better shot. Herbie whinnies gently and stretches his hind leg again. He lifts his head up quickly, almost whacking Stan. "Herbert!" Stan says sharply.
Do horses need to load up on carbs before a big race like their human counterparts? To keep him in good nick for racing, Herbie gets "five kilograms of Golden grain mix from Ashburton, chaff, hay, that sort of thing. It's formulated for horses, all you've got to give them so they say; well, according to the packet. Herbie looks well on it."
To date, the race win that has brought Stan the most pride was a hometown one. Earlier this year, Herbie, driven by Mark Purdon, claimed the $50,000 Rangiora Equine Services Rangiora Classic. "The only cup we've won is the Rangiora one. We got a photo of Herbie with the cup on the wall. We wanted to get one of those photos for years but it never happened, now he's up on the wall. It's a nice photo. Monkey King was in the race that day, he finished down the track."
Part of the attraction of harness racing for many is that while you can do everything you possibly can, essentially anything can happen in a race, and luck plays almost as big a part as preparation. Outside chances can romp home and make dreams come true in just a few minutes. Borana did it in 1985. "A sudden downpour can change everything. It's all down to on the day, anything can happen."
Like everyone else, Stan gets dressed up to go to Cup Day, and having a horse in the Cup field is something he's dreamt of, and worked towards, for decades. "I've been doing this for 50 years and to get one in the Cup, never mind winning it, just getting in the Cup field, that's enough for me. If I don't get in, well, too bad. At the end of the day, you can't always get the horse to get there, can ya? Hopefully he can grow another leg on Cup Day and do something with it."
Herbie does the horse equivalent of a sigh and looks at Stan with big brown eyes. No pressure, Herbie, no pressure.
Credit: Vicki Anderson writing in The Press 6Nov2010