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Our community blogs
I’ve been reflecting discussions, thoughts and opinions of what goes published on-line.
Collectively, racing people are unhappy – the pressure is on and for many unbearably so.
The NZ racing infrastructure is no longer there and,if it is at all (?) albeit wretchedly, miserably, pathetically.
The racing community hangs on by worn-down teeth and up-stairs authority shall unsophisticatedly suggest ‘you’ve made your bed, lie in it…but we’ll shag you while you sleep.
Those are the terms, conditions, covenants what is unwittingly accepted within a license to race.
I started a forum topic, only to delete because the problems are deep, wide, far. The maxim came to mind ‘money doesn’t fix everything’ & won't in the short-term. But yes, we want some help to keep the wolf from our door - sorry raving the philosophical and you’re right, I’ve got no solution.
Daily over years…I ask, ‘what to do, with the horse. It’s like asset-rich, very cash poor syndrome.
No loose-change, and at times the toilet paper has been on credit-card.
As owner…I shall head out walk the dog, figure ‘Alfie’ and ask my lonesome-tonight self just how much love I’ve got to give.
Listen to the people – the racing managers, the trainers, the owners, jockeys, each one in a reality combined in culture which is racing.
Hype,magic and the business rolled up in one.
It’s crazy. It’s wicked and almost amusing how we can rationalize losing a race. Winning - take the glory and the Kingdom.
Ah…if only the horse could talk.
Despite the negatives, I do know this: I don’t lead a mind-numbing life.
The day by day lesson: meeting ‘bills’ and supplementary costs for horse, forces one along the black-hole of the unknown.
Somehow you got to learn-the-ropes, a way of life….called Lesson. Life is a fierce bitch, really.
You wait for the next outing. The horse is doing all the right things to win…breath out.
However, it doesn’t happen and you are again left with the vehement decision to conquer doubt; the ‘black’ worry at nights down to feeling choked for one’s primitive survival.
They say 'Sell' the well-related mare.
- Well selling is bl**dy easy, isn’t it…..
- You Bastards….you think I’ve going to give away my one and only….a physical representation of a kid who ran away on horses. And now ‘me’ later in life, my one and only bucket list entry to the greater life. *$#^!
The mafia might laugh: we're cloaked in a profession loaded with high-risk from all life-quarters.
So be it. The business is I have my idea of dignity.
Horse and I, with trainer, his family, & his help, we’re team in an incomprehensible way that the coterie can’t ever grasp.
Money don’t buy you love.
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