Dec 9, 2011

If horse racing is the sport of kings, then greyhound racing – surely – is the sport of the people.

At Morshead Park on Wednesday night for the Ballarat Cup, this dog-racing novice was instructed to go along, soak in the atmosphere and report back on the many differences between the gallops and the dogs.

A simple enough task? Hardly.

The web of traits separating the two disciplines is far too complex for a simple two-column shopping list: horses and dogs.

Instead, the experience on Wednesday night made it abundantly clear there are, in fact, many similarities between the so-called “elite” sport and its apparent poorer cousin.

For example, fashionable headwear appears to be a must for racegoers at both the picnic spring races and the “dishies” as they’re affectionately known.

The sea of tiaras at Flemington on the first Tuesday in November was easily matched by the endless examples of sunglasses perched atop peaked baseball caps on Wednesday night.

But this form was strictly for males – females were content to simply sit their sunglasses on their heads, no doubt protecting their hair from the harmful rays of the track’s many floodlights.

But headwear wasn’t the only similarity between the dogs and the gallops.

Dozens of primary school aged children clambered on the track fences on Wednesday night, stretching out their hands and pointing at the “colourful” canines as they trotted past pre- and post-race.

It became clear that this was the dogs’ version of a mounting yard – but those children looked upon their favourites with far more enthusiasm than even the most wise and astute punter at Flemington.

After all, they might get a pat.

The biggest similarity between the two racing disciplines that was most obvious was, of course, the punt. In the final seconds of the first race on Wednesday night, a group of men all wearing “team” hats began jumping up and down hysterically, cheering on the dog they each owned a tiny share in, to victory.

In another race, a man heartily yelled “carn the ‘8’,” which was swiftly rebutted by another man with an almost-aggressive “get up there ‘4’.” The two men were now both very aware of what the other had backed, so limited their cheering to the more arbitrary “go you good thing.” 

Peace resumed.

After each win, pockets of the large crowd erupted into euphoria, their hooded jumpers bouncing awkwardly as they jumped with excitement, while others stood still – checking and re-checking their ticket in disbelief.

Were they hoping the $5 they had on number 6 would simply jump back into their wallet? Who knows.

The only ties at the track on Wednesday were worn by a smattering of club officials, while the tractor driver who was grading the track decided to sport a bow-tie, complemented, of course, by the “sunnies-on-hat” ensemble.

The atmosphere itself was friendly, just as in horse racing, unless you were in a shout with a group of mates and had committed the cardinal sin of “double-parking” – an act of slow drinking punishable by the peer-led chorus of “neck it” and “tip it back”.

Of course, there are some differences which remain between the dogs and the horses – prawn skewers were replaced by meat pies and sauce, sparkling wine was replaced by VB cans and bright sunshine was replaced by dozens of floodlights – all of which failed just minutes before Wednesday night’s feature race.

It might not have a been as glamorous, it might not have been as structured. Hell, it might not even have been as clean as some horse racing meets, but the people at Morshead Park had a ball and the Ballarat Greyhound Racing Club should be congratulated.

It was a cracker of a night.

Send all complaints to @JordanHOliver. Cheers.