Life as a Darley Flying Start Trainee

Australia, December 2007

And so, 12 figures descended on Sydney airport from every corner, bend and crevice of the earth eager to see what this place and it’s industry was all about. Sydney had been talked up as a hot bed of vice and entertainment. Aberdeen…you don’t hear much about Aberdeen.

The journey didn’t start well with the jetlagged crew disheartened by the length of the bus ride. Then jaws dropped when the sign posting of the ‘drive through’ town we were passing by was Aberdeen. This was to be home for the rest of 2007. Little were we to know that we would bounce around Australia and even to New Zealand because of an historic outbreak of Equine Influenza. We hope you enjoy the highlights of our time here.

PRACTICAL ROTATIONS: First things first, everyone survived our rotations of working with wet and dry mares, foals, stallions and on farm maintenance before and after the outbreak and there were no major injuries. However the farm’s assistant manager, Barley Ward Thomas was close to expiring after witnessing Jerome being drenched by an enthusiastic mare on heat. The Frenchman, always in good spirits, accepted the ‘shower’ and was left with a heck of a story to tell.

CARS: Transportation quality has ebbed and flowed throughout the course. In Ireland we were well and truly under a tight watch, dealt pushbikes and left in the care of the ever-eager bus driver John for any journey further than Kildangan’s front gate. Lexington was all about people carriers. After all, this is a country where everything is bigger and guzzles more fuel. What then is made out of a selection of used automobiles and a vigilant petrol man in Trevor?

Under the searing sun, with air conditioning that couldn’t be relied upon, many a forearm became well tanned from the elbow down as windows were opened and shirts shaken for ventilation. The warm weather also encouraged the use of thongs (flip flops in that other hemisphere). Andy, as laid back as a lazing Sunday, was the driving force in the emergence of the thong. Thongs and Andy, Andy and thongs, they blurred together like a sausage and bun and kept us all at ease.

LIZ’S BIRTHDAY: When Liz’s partner ‘Big Dave’ comes to town you limber up and know you’re in for a hell of a time. The unofficial 13th member of our course fell in love with Sydney, and for Liz’s birthday came with us on the harbour cruise that will stand as a real highlight. Through green and gold eyes I can place my hand on my heart and swear that Sydney is the greatest city on earth. Such comments usually illicit extensive blaspheming but on this occasion there was silence, if only for a few hours, as we slipped around the harbour sipping champagne and nibbling on seafood, taking in a visual spectacle of colours and lines. The socializing continued onto terra firma where Junling reminded us why he is a one of a kind.

NEW ZEALAND: The following morning we flew to New Zealand and once again the ‘Darley Dozen’ was split as our month long work placements kicked into gear. Trainers, farms and New Zealand Bloodstock held our gaze from Monday to Friday, but weekends were a time for frolic. Big Bo, ever the outdoors type, spoke passionately about his desire to jump out of a plane. And so it was that three other fools followed him, and plummeted into euphoria.
Brandon, Fabricio, Bo and I passed over our hard earned, slipped into a red jumpsuit and handed our lives over to a collection of strangers whose credentials were laminated and pinned to a wall. Having been bullied into wearing my ‘Biggles’ jacket over the jumpsuit I was far from convinced I would ever wear any get up again with my instructor running by the name of ‘Rock’. Not the most suitable moniker for one who chooses to fall out of a plane and hopes to land in a delicate manner.

With Jerome, Andy, Gina and Alex watching, we waved farewell and boarded. Fabricio’s nerves were shaken as he watched two others fall in front of him at 12,000 feet. Still he was muscled into place by his instructor at 15,000 feet, smiled THAT smile for the camera in the corner and plummeted at the allotted time. Bo, Brandon and I followed waving fists, screaming and having our faces contorted as we hurtled towards Lake Taupo at 200 km/h.
During such an experience you run out of adjectives. It’s a mind-bending sensation overload squeezed into about 65 seconds. All you want at the end is to land with the sophistication you think you have. Three out of four managed it. I went home with what might have been an inverted tail bone. Perhaps the only thing more embarrassing during our NZ stint was Junling being booked for driving too slowly on the highway.

CUP WEEK: And so it was that a two mile handicap stole the hearts the Flying Starters and jerked the Australian leg of the course back on track. We stand a dozen strong from seven different countries. It has ensured that between us we’ve seen just about every major racing event on earth. But the Melbourne Cup’s impact was distinct. As a throng topping 100,000 roared, 12 voices roared with it and finally after more than two months of heartache, the Equine Influenza outbreak was forgotten and life seemed to make sense again.

Alex, arguably the most astute punter among the crew, had his pennies on Purple Moon - it wasn’t to be. A few others followed him in. Wallets were damaged but lives were enriched. We might not have been able to dine on seafood that night but the pizza slices went down just as well.
Melbourne was also a chance to shop, and return to a more cosmopolitan surrounding after being in New Zealand horse country. Fabricio, aka ‘The Fabulous One’, transformed his look from sultry Latin lover to George Clooney and the ladies swooned. Jerome, Andy, Alex and Brandon added to their wardrobes and we spent plenty of time meeting the Birches (Andy’s family).
The smartest move all week would have been to continue backing whatever Andy’s Dad had his cash on. Instead, most of us religiously ploughed through the form guide and helped ensure bookmakers finished the week with a new pool or sports car. Sarah may have been the exception having been ‘steered’ into one or two after running into a prominent jockey in the sauna.

CLUB SCONE: We returned to Aberdeen and its social outlets. Club Scone isn’t a place for the faint hearted or those with a full face of teeth. Still it has played host to a few of us who have wandered off the preferred path. Living it up with the locals here or more often at the ‘Mersh’, as the Commercial Hotel has funked itself up to be, has been educational, especially for those who call home anywhere but Australasia. It is here that Friday dining, dancing and the occasional ballad are belted out. Alex has been the inspiration for many females salaciously singing a love song but has refused to join in despite his ability to tackle any song from the safe confines of the shower.

SNOWY: This laconic Australian has become an unspoken chapter of the Australian leg of Flying Start. His name was no more than whispered in early conversations, passed on in hushed tones from one Brazilian (Mayra from the ‘05 class) to another (Fabricio). Most of us heard about him before laying eyes on his casual smile and fair locks. Yet he was good enough to welcome us one and all and played a leading role in immersing the group in the ways of rural Australia. There were BBQs, shooting, waterskiing, motorbikes, cows and tales a plenty. Watch out for him on the news any time soon as he bids to break the land speed record on a motorbike or treks around the world on his trusty bike much in the same way as Ewan McGregor

TOUCH FOOTY: This is where heroes are made and broken. Before every game there is bravado. You see it in the strong ball passing, the limbering up or the occasional short burst of speed running to hint at what might be. It’s all a mind game until you run out there and the sweltering heat, fitness limitations and bindies (needles in the grass) bring you back down to earth. There were times when frustrations were born out in a game and when voices were raised but we always returned for another chance to throw a dummy pass, run around a rival and score the try that mattered.
Our four on four games were catching the eye of staff and it wasn’t long before their bravado kicked in and a game was organised between counterparts. The bravado of the farm boys was well placed. They gave us a touch up on more than one occasion. Still, we were playing under their rules and our international group had to adapt in a short time. We played on to the point where Brandon was foundering, Jerome thought he had a broken toe, Alex had sore ‘kankles’ and Dean was sporting a bruised nose after a clash with Alex’s forehead.

Through it all there was a goal in sight. We wanted to square up these farm boys and walk away victors. A game was pencilled in. We had hoped to practice but it wasn’t to be. Too many assignments and a plethora of outstanding visits in Sydney. Perhaps being fresh turned out to be beneficial. With our full squadron of 10 we turned up late, did the passing thing and ran those short bursts. Surely this must have inspired terror?

A frantic game ensued. Paul, aka Pops, played referee and that kept Barley Ward Thomas honest. The game was try-less until I was sucked out of the defensive line and Phil, the farm’s answer to Sterling Mortlock, breezed passed me. “Sorry team”. There was a quick retaliation and the game ebbed and flowed. After 20 minutes of play we had a breather.

2-1 the farm crew.

Our passion was boiling; there was fight in this motley crew yet. We surged back onto the field and renewed the arm wrestle. I can’t say every pass stuck. I can’t promise you the game was slick. What I can say was that the defence was desperate, the yelling loud and the game punctuated by bursts of brilliance.

Pops played with figures the way accountants do and kept the game interesting. So focused were the two teams that the actual score was lost to all but the big guy with the whistle. It got down to that time honoured Australian way of ‘last try wins’.

Trying to rouse the troops I attempted to yell some inspiration. It was probably lost among the deep breaths and personal determination etched on every face. We didn’t want to lose this one. Jerome had scored to ruffle the farm boys and then they had fired back to our chagrin.

But we had a secret weapon. Having spent most of the game snapping photos of the theatre, the fire within Fabricio was at boiling point. “I want to go on,” the big man said. With that he called Junling in for a well earned break after some extensive defensive work and jog-trotted on in jeans and T-shirt.
As fate would have it, this fresh, jeans clad figure slipped through their desperate defensive wall to score the try that counted. We finished on a winner.

Hugs, back slaps, laughs and a last group photo. A memory that will live on for those who ran onto the ground, and walked off heroes.

THANK YOUS: We have been blessed to have been invited into the inner sanctum of some of Australia’s most forward thinking industry figures. John Messara held us spellbound for two hours, Gai Waterhouse kept us buoyant at 4am and John O’Shea’s unerring professionalism rubbed off on us one and all. To Vin Cox for his enthusiasm, we say thank you. To James Bester for his frankness, we salute you. To all of those who gave their time and energy we cannot do anything but applaud and hope the wine went down smoothly.
To those in New Zealand who took us on with short notice we can only hope to repay the favour one day. We are forever in your debt and we thank you for your enthusiasm and graciousness.

To the staff at Darley Australia from Olly Tait, John Sunderland and Barley Ward Thomas down, we commend you on your efforts to make this place a home for us. You have been warm, humorous and generous. Friendships have been formed.

To Henry Plumptre, you engaged us like few could, worked tirelessly in our interests and educated us with your every word and action.

However, for our biggest thank you, and I don’t think there is a font size large enough to emphasis this, we single out Flying Start coordinator Fran Khan. Fran you have made our time in Australia. The memories we talk about in this passage and the people we have met are largely down to you. Our families and friends back home have heard about you and your desire to force back the scourge of EI and ensure that this leg of the course was an experience not to be missed. If only we could take you with us.

By Eden Harrington

Click here for a list of all 2006 trainee views

Sarah saddling up