Having heavily invested on Helmet in opening Guineas markets (and with a pretty solid crack at an early Guineas-Cox Plate double to boot), you could say I was slightly agitated as the gates crashed back at Caulfield to decide the big Group 1 at 3.20pm. That's because I wasn't on course or in front of a television, but instead standing before the altar at St Michaels church in Collins Street, one eye trained on the groom in order to make sure he didn't make a sudden last-ditch bid for freedom, th
Having heavily invested on Helmet in opening Guineas markets (and with a pretty solid crack at an early Guineas-Cox Plate double to boot), you could say I was slightly agitated as the gates crashed back at Caulfield to decide the big Group 1 at 3.20pm. That's because I wasn't on course or in front of a television, but instead standing before the altar at St Michaels church in Collins Street, one eye trained on the groom in order to make sure he didn't make a sudden last-ditch bid for freedom, the other firmly focused on the chapel door. Marooned in front of the steadily building crowd whilst waiting for the bride to arrive in my role as one of two best men, I had prearranged for a couple of other guests to listen to the Guineas and report back the result by enacting some sign language from the back of the room. I had been tempted to ask the groom whether I might be permitted to duck out and join the others, but the terror in his eyes told me that now was not the time to leave him...
As the groom craned his neck towards the entrance, eyes burning a hole in the door waiting for that magical first glimpse of his bride, I too strained with anticipation for that first (hopefully) wondrous appearance of Jack and Dave. Helmet was racing in their interests, too, and I would instantly know by the look on their faces whether or not the son of Exceed and Excel had got the job done. It is a nerve-wracking experience indeed having a significant investment on a race and not being able to watch, or at least listen to, it. My Year 12 English literature exam happened to fall at the same time as the 2002 Crown Oaks were being run, and I was more anxious about how the $14 Bulla Borghese would go (whom I considered a sure thing!) than the troubled tragic grandeur of Antony and Cleopatra. Bulla Borghese at least proved my reading of that vexing text called the 'formguide' correct that year...
Back at the wedding, tears of joy were shed when finally, the organ piped up and Jack and Dave stormed the church making wild 'helmet' gestures above and around their heads, just in time to see the bride appear and steal her day's first look at the blushing groom (he had nearly passed out on multiple occasions and was looking decidedly flustered). Do I want Helmet to win the Cox Plate? I do.