CHOISIR, SIR BOB & PLANT POTS.

With the World Cup 2010 now underway and with Royal Ascot on the horizon, I feel now is the right time to tell the following story about a day out at the Royal meeting a few years back. The memories still make me smile and I feel like sharing it so others hopefully may enjoy it too.

It was back in 2003, when the Cannons Gym I was a member at organised a day out on the opening day of the Royal Ascot meeting. The deal was meet up at the club for a bucks fizz breakie, coach trip to Ascot, ticket included, party in the the coach park, more food & drink and a coach ride home, now who could ask for more for £100?

The wife was angling for a ticket, but I'd already made other arrangements.

I didn't really know many people at the gym so thought it would be a good way of getting to know some of the other members.

I went down one day to book the tickets and the girl behind the desk took my money and that of my guest.

"You're going to enjoy yourself, plenty of champagne and fit single women" I was told.

"I'm not into that sort of thing." I told her, meaning I was a happily married, father of two.

"Who are you bringing?"I was asked.

"My friend Corey." I told her.

"Corey & Randy?" she questioned me, giggled and gave her mate a knowing glance.

As I walked away, I thought to myself, they think I'm bloody gay! But to be fair to them, Corey & Randy, not the butchest of names!

Corey was a workmate, over from Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia on a working holiday and seemed pretty stoked(as they say in Oz) to be my guest. He had been a young Joey Socceroo, which is an Australian equivalent of an England Youth team footballer. He even played in the same team as a few of the Aussie boys who made it in the Premiership, including ex-Liverpool player Harry Kewell.
The big day arrived and we met up at the club, champagne breakfast, intros and team photo out of the way we boarded the coach.

On the coach, looking through the card, Corey noticed CHOISIR, Trainer Paul Perry, Australia. A horse running in The King's Stand, from his bloody hometown, how bizarre was that. we told anyone who would listen on the coach, we had inside info due to Corey being from Oz and Choisir was fancied.

Once at the track we were left to our own devices and went off to have a mingle in the crowds and have a drink. We went down to the paddock to have a look at the field for The King's Stand and check out Choisir. What we saw was amazing, the horse was a huge specimen, a real bruiser and he looked head and shoulders above the rest. But I had a doubt. Choisir had a lot of weight to carry and had come from the other side of the planet. I really fancied Oasis Dream, who I thought was the class horse.

Anyway the race went off and Johnny Murtagh cut across to the rail and booted Choisir into the lead, soon clear I said to Corey, he's won this! Powering along he just kept going and was still clear approaching the last. The rest of the field could not land a blow, Choisir stayed on strongly and won as he liked. Oasis Dream only third. I could not believe what I had just witnessed. All the signs were there, the coincidences, the fact he was the daddy in the paddock and I still never backed it! What a wally. Corey on the other hand was ecstatic, not only had he backed, it had won at 25-1, he was delighted. Whilst I was chuffed for him, I was also gutted, I had looked this gift horse straight in the mouth, took a photo of it and still believed it was to good to be true. My angry feeling was further fuelled when I noticed Choisir paid 37-1 on the tote. Nice one.

The day carried on like that, I never backed a winner, Corey nailed another one and was well up for the day.

We were having a drink and reflecting on the day, when I noticed a fella staring at us menacingly. He came over with the right hump and told Corey that his girlfriend could not keep her eyes off him and he was obviously getting agitated. We made a swift exit, but at least Corey's ego had a rub.

After a brief sing-song at The Bandstand we were walking back to the coach when we noticed a bit of a throng, as we neared we could clearly see it was the great Sir Bobby Robson, ex-England Manager, Newcastle( no not the NSW one!) United FC legend and all round good egg signing autographs for a group of young kids.

"Hello Sir Bob, can I grab a photo?" I asked.

"No problem." He said.

Corey jumped in and I got a snap, then handed the camera to a girl to take one of the three of us. But Sir Bob wasn't having any of it.

"You had your photo, cheeky". He said.

"But I wasn't in it, come on Sir Bob." I replied.

"You only asked for A photo!"He told me.

I couldn't believe it, but he was technically right and who was I to argue with the legend that is Sir Bob. I am not sure if he was joking, but didn't press it and we left, with me rueing another missed opurtunity, at least Corey was laughing.

Back at the coach we were hailed as heroes tipping up a 25-1 winner, I didn't let on I never had a bean on it and revelled in the glory instead.

By the time we got back on the coach, I was in a right state, tired and emotional is what they call it.

The coach dropped us of in Sutton and we decided to have a nightcap in the pub by the station before Corey went back up to North London. We said our goodbyes and I decided to walk/stagger home, big mistake. Thats when it went blank.

My next memory was being dropped off at home by someone in a pick-up type 4x4 with the wife giving me verbal.

The gentleman had found me knocked out in his front garden amongst the plant pots. I'd apparently fell over his front garden wall and hit my head on a garden ornament, the racket I made disturbed him and his wife. They went through my mobile phone, found the home number and rang the wife to tell them what had happened and brought me home. I got some homecoming I can tell you, that night. To this day I have never seen, heard or spoken to that gentleman, but all I vaguely remember is his grey hair. all I can say is thanks, he was my guardian angel that night.

Corey called the next day to see if I'd got home okay and thank me for taking him to the races, giving him one of the most enjoyable days he'd ever had. I can still here him laughing after I'd told him about my little adventure.

I was rough for days and was only just getting back to normal, when on the Saturday me, the wife, the kids and I were invited to a close family friend's wedding. It was in deepest, darkest Sussex and miles from anywhere. It was an early start, church do in London and then coach down to the castle for the reception. I was a little peeved I was missing the last day's racing at Ascot and didn't have a bet, as I like to watch the race if I have had a punt. I was enjoying the wedding and spending time with the family and was definitely building bridges after the Ascot day out shenanigans.

Well, I was enjoying the wedding, until my mobile phone beeped and there was a text from Corey.

"GO GO CHOISIR, YA GOOD THING! Were you on?"

No I bloody wasn't! I snuck off and rang him, The Mighty Choisir, the Aussie speedball had only gone and doubled up by winning The Golden Jubilee at 13-2. He'd won again, just four days later, I couldn't believe it. Corey was chuffed and he couldn't believe that I hadn't backed it again. What a wally. I was gutted another missed opportunity. The feeling a punter gets when he misses a winner is hard to explain to people who don't bet, but I just wanted to scream and I was inside. Well, at least Corey was laughing again, as he does every time he looks at the blown up photo that I gave him, as seen above.

Its always just before Royal Ascot starts that invokes the memories of Choisir, Sir Bob and plant pots. I know Corey is grateful, that I took him and not the wife and for him all the memories are all good. Me though, I still grimace when I think about my tales of woe.

Still, they do say its better to give than to receive.

I'll take their word on that one.

Yours

Randy.