LAST race, last gasp. It's pegging frost at Leopardstown and The Irish Times desperately needs to pull a winner out of the bag to redeem a miserable day's betting. This calls for the advice of a real gambler, a man who can keep his cool when the stakes are high, a man who knows the scent of ultimate victory.
"Mr Reynolds, any tips for the next race?" The former Taoiseach assumes a conspiratorial air, points to the formcard, and whispers: "Shannon Gale. Trained by Christy Roche, owned by J.P. McManus, sure how could you go wrong there?"
"But Mr Reynolds, Ivan Yates told me earlier to back Humbel in the sixth, and he was beaten. He told me to put the mortgage on him. He said I wouldn't have to work for the whole of 1997 when he romped home. He came third. I'll be doing overtime all next year."
"Arrah, don't mind Ivan. He's only the Minister for Agriculture." So I backed Strontium.
Two furlongs from home, and Strontium is nicely tucked in behind the leader, Shannon Gale. Trouble is, come the finish line and he's still there, tucked in behind Albert's nag.
Yet hope springs eternal. A stewards inquiry is called. My neighbour drops his binoculars, rattles his racing badges and talks knowingly of "interference" and "cutting across".
Just as in the Old Bailey, Albert stands vindicated, but could yet lose all. I just want to get my money back.
Winner all right. And no, Albert didn't place a penny bet, as the wags had it. One hundred pounds at 9/4 produced a handsome dividend, and he also backed New Co, the popular 3/1 winner of the big race of the day, the Paddy Power Handicap Chase. Popular, that is, with everyone except The Irish Times.
The television screens in the betting shop offered the delights of the 1.45 from Southwell (English nags) and the 1.39 from Monmore (dogs, apparently), but these did not attract. The rest of the 13,000 crowd - up more than 1,500 on the second day two years ago - seemed happy with the victory of so many favourites and retired to the bars for a few restoring drinks.
Pity your temporary racing correspondent, though, who was left to savour the fruits of poor advice taken, good advice not taken and - perhaps most importantly of all - a near-total ignorance of quadrupeds with small men atop.
