How about that run by the Alligator Doomben yesterday?
You didn’t see a better one anywhere all day.
Maybe all month.
Perhaps all year.
Handicapped with 61 kilos, four more than his nearest rival, five above another, and giving seven to the rest.
Stranded back second last on the fence.
Slow pace upfront.
Giving the leader six plus lengths at the 300.
Still spotting it four at the 100.
Flies home gets beat a length.
The winner runs its final three furlongs in 33.22 seconds.
God only knows what Al’s run it in.
Allen Endresz ratbag antics and idiotic carry-ons about dopers in the dark and Men in Black at the track have turned a lot of people off the Alligator, and made him about as popular as a Queensland Premier at a quarrantine reduced numbers funeral.
But me being the quite contrary character I am, I’m going the other way.
I’m falling in love with Alligator Blood.
I’ve written a lot about him, much of it bad, but I’ve never for a second said that the Gator wasn’t a great horse. I just said he was doped, and that his trainer is a cheat and his owner’s a thief.
It’s no knock to Big Al himself.
He’s going to win the Everest on this run, or the Cox Plate, or whatever the hell Dick Van Dyke and the dickhead want to win.
Alligator Blood man.