IT drove me bananas.
I’d study the form three weeks out from the Melbourne Cup, watch the Saturday afternoon races to assess the chances, and I’d carefully place a bet that couldn’t lose.
Then along comes Wanda after the big race one year with a ticket in her hand and a wad of cash. She’d chosen the nag that swooped home at 100-1 because she liked the name.
Ever since, I’ve made it my mission to pick a winner based purely on name.
So strap yourself in and get ready to be tipped the winning trifecta on nonsense alone.
Gold Trip: An air of arrogance never hurts in a race horse, and just like Cathy Freeman at the 2000 Olympics is carrying a huge weight – albeit jockey, not expectation. Must be a chance on that reckoning.
Duais: Can’t tip what I can’t say. Sorry.
Knights Order: If you’re going to get an order from anyone, it might as well be a knight. Let’s just hope the order was to win.
Montefilia: There was a lad in our form class named Monte, and I don’t recall having any feelings towards him at all. But if there’s ever been a Monte in your life, I feel ya.
Numerian: I’ve always been a wordsmith (read: “old hack”), so anything to do with numbers is beyond me.
Without a Fight: This one’s open to interpretation. Does it mean, “won’t give up without a fight” or is simply that this poor beast can’t find it himself to battle away down the Flemington straight. Or anywhere.
Camorra: In the old days, us old hacks used to be able to walk about with a person with a camera. There were some good ones, but many were just along for the ride, to be honest.
Deauville Legend: They name these things at birth, right? So someone’s had the gumption to predict that this horse will become a legend. Very French.
Stockman: Nothing tougher in Australian folklore than a man or woman with a whip and a blue heeler. A cracker of a chance, surely.
Vow and Declare: Sounds like something I need to do every time I see my doctor.
Young Werther: Wonderful to have youth on your side, but a bit of smarts in a race like this wouldn’t hurt either.
Hoo Ya Mal: Sounds too much like person naming the horse was drunk.
Serpentine: I get goosebumps just thinking about snakes. Not for me.
Daqiansweet Junior: Sounds like what the person who named Hoo Ya Mal might have been drinking.
Grand Promenade: Sounds eloquent, and oozing of class. Which is what the horse presenting the trophy should look like, not the one winning it.
Arapaho: What did I say about names I can’t pronounce?
Emissary: Am I missing something, or has this horse been sent on a special mission to win this race. I believe that might be so.
Lunar Flare: Sounds like my ankle last weekend after I rolled it in the garden.
Smokin’ Romans: In all the movies I’ve watched that had Romans in them, I’ve never seen one with a cigarette. But if I had, I’d have backed it in to win the fight all day long.
Tralee Rose: While anything Irish rolls nicely off the tongue, they find it difficult to take themselves seriously enough to race over two miles.
Point Nepean: Sounds like something from the western suburbs of Sydney. Nice people, but no thanks.
High Emocean: I’ve had some great times with Wanda on cruises. High on life with the one I love most. This must be a shot.
Interpretation: Too much room for error here.
Realm of Flowers: If the backyard would only look like I wanted it to. Then again, Wanda does like flowers. Let’s pop this in our chances.
So there they are. The runners of the 2022 Melbourne Cup.
Against every logical bone in my body, here’s the names that make sense to me:
- High Emocean
- Stockman
- Emissary
- Real of Flowers
Remember, bet with your head. Not over it. Or even better, don’t bet at all and you can’t lose. Or do what I do and bet with Wanda (your Wanda, not mine) for bragging rights.
