Luckless Cowen tips the beaten dockets
But Ahern just keeps on finding winners
A relaxed Mr Cowen even had time to pose for a photo with Lisa Hennigan from Castlerea, Co Roscommon
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Hector O hEochagain was going mental in the parade ring. Absolutely balubas. He was bucklepping in the air high enough to make it over Beechers Brook without the aid of a horse.
His nag, Steve Capall -- or at least the animal of which he is the proud owner of a leg or two -- had just won the Williamhill.com Handicap Hurdle.
As the photographers jostled to grab shots of the jubilant TV presenter, the amused crowd around the parade ring cheered as Hector happily acted out the part of the jockey egging on his steed past the winning post.
"It's unbelievable -- I dream of these sort of things happening," he exulted.
Hector was quick to thank trainer Noel Meade and also his two syndicate partners, Simon Heaslip and Kevin Healy who own two Galway pubs, the Roisin Dubh and Massimo, describing them as "lucky hoors".
"It cost a lot of money -- I paid €800 for Traverse, the horse in 'Only Fools Buy Horses' and I could've bought 100 Traverses for the price of this one," he explained.
The horse was named in honour of former Man United footballer and Reading manager Steve Coppell, and is obviously on a bit of a winning streak, as it won in Kilbeggan last week and is now being shipped off to Limerick next week in the hopes of a hat-trick.
But Hector wasn't going anywhere, except straight to the Roisin Dubh for celebratory pints. "I've been on Argos online and I've bought a new liver and spleen," he grinned. But there was only one tiny cloud on his sunny horizon -- and that was the fact that his victory hadn't happened on Ladies Day. "It's such a pity all the women aren't here with their fake tan and high heels in the champagne bar," he said wistfully.
And speaking of sun and clouds, contrary to doomy threats of deluges and downpours from the weatherpeople, the Ballybrit track was bathed in warm sunshine all day yesterday. After the torrential rain of the previous day, there had been dark mutterings of an early morning inspection of an already soggy track in the event of more rainfall overnight.
But instead the sun shone down on the relaxed crowd which, despite the balmy conditions, were down in numbers by almost 5,000 on last year, with 20,740 passing through the turnstiles yesterday, as opposed to over 25,500 in 2008.
And among the punters strolling about in the sun was the Taoiseach, who was taking a short breather from trying to get to grips with the fiercely complicated NAMA yoke.
After a lunch with the racing committee -- he had been invited to a posh lunch hosted by William Hill bookmakers, but decided to avail of the committee's hospitality instead -- Brian made his way to the parade ring to watch the big race of the day -- the Galway Plate and to present the trophy to the winner. And he made his way quite slowly indeed, as he was halted in his stride every couple of paces by groups of giggling women looking for photographs with him. It surely must've taken all his willpower not to roar at them, "And where were yiz during the last lot of elections, eh?"
But he was in most relaxed form, offering a couple of tips for the big race, Aggie's Lad and Piano Star. He even managed to find a sliver of silver lining in the dark recessionary clouds hanging over the festival.
"Maybe there's more of a traditional feel coming back to Galway," he reckoned. "I remember being here years ago before the Celtic Tiger days, and it was always a great mixture of city and country and hardened racegoers coming from all around the country and I think it's kept that down the years," he said. "But maybe it doesn't have the hoopla and razzmatazz of recent years".
Nor has he any intention of introducing to the festival that hotbed of razzmatazz and hoopla, otherwise known as the Fianna Fail tent -- a fundraising wheeze which was Bertie's pride and joy and which Brian promptly axed as soon as he took over as Taoiseach.
"I think that had its day and it was fine for the times that were in it," he said diplomatically. "Like every fundraising event, you move onto other ideas to try and keep people's interest, but at the end of the day it was good while it was going on."
Alas for Brian, neither of his picks for the Plate crossed the line a winner. However this reporter was doing a Hector right behind him, being in possession of dockets for both the first and third places.
"You didn't pick those yourself," he suggested dubiously, before heading off back to Dublin and the NAMA nightmare. Fair enough, Taoiseach. In fact Lucky Bertie had struck again.
For the former Taoiseach had barely finished his lunch in the William Hill suite, when he was descended upon by a gaggle of grateful journalists who had all made a few quid on his tip, Rock and Roll Kid, the previous day. Bertie was accompanied by his personal assistant, Olive Melvin -- his other racegoing companion, the "mystery blonde" from Tuesday's tabloids aka his longtime constituency secretary Sandra Cullagh, had earlier returned to Dublin.
But Bertie knew the score -- "If the tip had lost, you lot would've demolished me in the papers," he laughed.
Still, he obliged with another tip for the Plate. "Washington Lad is worth a few euro each way," he judged. And the selfsame horse duly obliged, crossing the line in third place at a tidy 11/1.
However, the happiest people leaving the track yesterday evening were the bookies who had managed to avoid a bloodbath, with all the big guns -- JP McManus, Dermot Weld and Paul Nicholls -- having little success, although a last-race Weld winner, Precious Gem, ensured that some punters retained their shirts for the walk home.
And now all fingers on the racecourse are firmly crossed that the sun will shine down for Ladies Day today, when the finery comes out in earnest.
Boylesports have all sorts of bets on the well-shod runners, including a punt on the hair colour of the winning best dressed lassie, with brunette at 5/6 and blonde at 10/11.
This reporter's money is on blonde.
Blondes always have more fun.
Just ask Bertie.
