Crack Jockey is Game as a Pebble

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 318, 31 March 1928, Page 6

Crack Jockey is Game as a Pebble

WEAKENED BY WASTING “TRAGEDY” NARROWLY AVERTED If the late Nat Gould, who wove so many romances round the English and Australian turf, had been in Johannesburg for the last summer meeting, the mise en scene of his next yarn would undoubtedly have been cast in South Africa, comments a writer in “Sporting Life.” The meeting at Johannesburg, which started on Boxing Day, and finished on January 2, provided sporting scribes with a first-class “sensation,” which was centred round the Summer Handicap, the big event of the fixture. The course at Johannesburg is called Turf-fontein, and is a turf track, but what turf! It is baked

iron-hard by the sun. A horse that was much “expected” for the big race, though an outsider, was Admiral, whom L. Hammon, the “Gordon Richards” of South Africa, had been “wasting” to ride. The connections were extremely doubtful about Hammond ability to get down to the weight, but the latter would not hear of failure, and made use of every known device to get off some of his unwelcome avoirdupois. H unger-Striking A week before the race, he was still too heavy, and it was obvious that something drastic would have to be done. So he went on hunger-strike. For days he ate practically nothing, and got rid of 101 b, but he arrived on the course as “weak as a kitten,” though no kitten was ever so determined and game. Waiting for the big event to come along was a tedious business, and when he was offered the mount on Prince George in the second race of the day, he accepted it, partly to occupy his mind, and partly to “try himself out,” as it were, for he knew he was no Hercules just then. His friends, as friends will, offered well-meant advice, and warned him against riding, but Hammon would have none of it, and when it was announced that he was to have the handling of Prince George, the price shortened from a fine price to a quarter of those odds. Once in the saddle, Hammon’s lethargy seemed to vanish, and he got Prince George home an undoubtedly clever winner. Hammon weighed in all right, but before the “0.K.” could be signalled, he collapsed, and “Doctor wanted” was the next signal. Two medicos were promptly on the spot, and after a little trouble they got Hammon round, and he was promptly advised to take himself off home. The Drunken Sailor However, Hammon had the longshot chance Admiral to ride in the big race, and could not, obviously, be expected to be in two-places at once, so he refused. One hour later Hammon climbed on the back of Admiral —feeling like an illustration for “What Shall We Do With the Drunken Sailor?”—again got off to a good start, and rode one of the most vigorous and desperate finishes of his career, to win by a length and a-half. The crowd, however, noticed that something was wrong when the winner returned to weigh in. for Hammon was reeling in the saddle. The cheering, died away suddenly, while spectators! rushed forward to help him. A “tragedy” was narrowly averted hero for it was only with difficulty that these kind-hearted idiots were kept back, while Hammon dismounted unaided. Once on the ground, it was all he could do to keep his feet, and with his head on his arm, trembling * all over, he leaned on the horse’s neck. I After a minute or two, he managed to unsaddle and stagger to the scale, but no sooner had he passed that ordeal than he collapsed, and the two doctors were again called. It was a longer job this time, but they got him round, and sent him home—as game a man as ever figured in the page of a novel. Getting Together P. Riddle is to train the twj? yearlings bought in Melbourne by Mr. P. Miller, says the Sydney “Referee.” One is the Woorak—Tresillo coit, sold for 350 guineas, and the other the St. Anton Chatelaine filly f whose price was 500 guineas. Before the commencement of next season Riddle will probably have a fairly large team, and if he does as well with trotters in the j psst, his patrons will have cause to 1 be pleased.