Heavy Insinuations and the Green Days of November: Words to Take to Your Bookmaker
There will be no trek to the crowded grounds of Flemington racecourse this year. No smell of roses. No week long whiskey binge. No jackboot security guards entering the press box and demanding to know which esteemed member of the press corps had overturned the refrigerator in a fit of rage after a missed photo finish. Con Marasco knows snitches get what is coming. Rats in the ranks always have their day of public humiliation.
This year, Melbourne Cup form will be done in complete sobriety from the bowels of the Officers Club. The last drink, some form of fruit punch concoction that still stings the oesophagus, was consumed sometime in the fourth hour of Sunday morning at a wild farewell for my dear friend Christine. Watching some drunken fool willingly burn his hairy ass on a barbeque and then plant his face on the third concrete porch step seemed like the right time to call it a night, as they say. And it probably was.
It is also probably for the best that your highly cantankerous author will not be at Flemington. There would, without doubt, be an incident that would be publicized in newspapers across the nation and in all rugby league playing countries. The word is that treacherous son of a bitch Willie Mason will be on course and there is not the slightest doubt in my mind or his that he would be on the receiving end of some vicious screed that would leave him arrested and me with a flattened nose. The claret would, as boxing aficionados and fight fans say, be flowing. The vile manner in which he has conducted his Brutus-like betrayal of the club that has given him a career, a lifestyle and the publicity he craves like an ice addict yearns intensely for their next bump has me filled with rage and acting without rationality. Willie Mason would have been berated with an expletive and erudite tirade that would have embarrassed him more than his false claims that others were ready to leave the Bulldogs with him. That big fool who has never been worth the money paid to him must now suffer the humiliation of being sacked and left without a club. He would have initially flinched at the wild rant. Then the anger would rise and the ill disciplined pigslapper would have swung wildly.
Judas Mason would have deserved every last word and more but my professional career would be ruined. Avoiding Flemington is the right thing to do.
And so is forty-eight hours of sobriety. Heavy words were sent down the line from the Punting Ace penthouse that a winner was needed. There was no mistaking the insinuations. Find the winner or there will be one more starving freelance writer to feed. “Professionals come through when the screws are on.” Ye Gods, the hammer was coming down. “You need the winner rummy and you need it now or the consequences could be dire.”
Preparation would be crucial. Hours analysing video and form with only a Virgin Mary in hand. Midnight telephone calls to various wise-heads and grey beards who had seen every Cup since Skipton. Talking whores and horses with the men who drink the brown. The same routine that has found me eight of the last nineteen winners.
That sound preparation has led me to one horse. A standout, if you will. In the cold and revealing light of complete sobriety, the winner has been found. His name is Master O’Reilly and he will be first past the post at approximately three-and-a-half minutes past three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. He can be bet and he can be bet hard and bet often. Number eleven will be the first number flashing on the semaphore board. Vlad Duric will raise his fist in glory as he steers the race favourite to victory. Danny O’Brien will hug all comers. And we will take great delight in stripping the cash boxes of bookmakers from across the land.
As always, the Caulfield Cup is the only relevant formline for the Melbourne Cup. A high finishing position in the Caulfield Cup is an almost universal trait among recent Melbourne Cup winners with last start Cox Plate winners tending to be the only real exception. Media Puzzle had God on board and Brew was a complete and utter aberration. The odds are with you if you don’t fall into the trap of Moonee Valley Cup or Saab or old or losing form. Focus on the Caulfield Cup. That is just common sense.
And few would doubt that Master O’Reilly turned in the most dominant Caulfield Cup win since Might and Power in ’97. He decimated a decent field and one very similar to who he will face in the Melbourne Cup. Furthering confidence is the fact he has been set for the Melbourne Cup. There is no doubt he will see out a strong two miles and with the information he is expected to peak for this, it is actually difficult to imagine him losing.
Master O’Reilly will be this writer’s largest bet since Makybe Diva’s cup win in 2005. $5.50 is a sensational price and should be taken immediately. No excuses. Just keep backing him. Confidence is supreme. Master O’Reilly is the winner.
Those fighting out the remaining places will be Purple Moon, Douro Valley, Blue Monday, Princess Coup, Sculptor and Zipping.
British galloper Purple Moon turned in a mighty effort in the Caulfield Cup when running sixth. As always, with the memories of Double Trigger and Oscar Schindler still burning fresh, I am loathe to get involved with international horses. Purple Moon does, however, have two things in his favour. An Australian run and an Australian jockey. He has plenty of class and if he handles the tough nature of the Melbourne Cup, he won’t be far away. He is a clear second rater.
The next group is much closer together in terms of chance and should be included in trifectas. Douro Valley, Princess Coup and Blue Monday ran second, third and fourth respectively in the Caulfield Cup and all must be thrown in. Douro Valley is dour and should see out the trip. Princess Coup went well in the MacKinnon but there is a major query as to whether she will see out the two miles. Blue Monday looks over the odds after his big Caulfield Cup effort. Sculptor and Zipping should also be incorporated after good efforts on Saturday. Sculptor is a major player if the rains come and the track becomes a bog.
It is best not to get fancy at The Big Dance. Master O’Reilly will win and as such, bookmakers should be made to feel the hurt. He looks to be, what those in the game call, a good bet. I refuse to stake my reputation on it. But there will be a good portion of the betting bank invested. Be sure and certain of that.
Tedeschi’s Tips
1. Master O’Reilly
2. Purple Moon
3. Douro Valley
4. Zipping