The turf | 12 July 2008

I heard from a Nato general not long ago the story of two hot air balloonists in the US who got lost. They descended to check their bearings from visible landmarks and found themselves above a massive and curiously shaped building. Seeing a man crossing the car park one balloonist shouted, ‘Where are we?’ ‘In a balloon,’ the man yelled back. At which the other man in the basket stoked up the hot air and took them back up through the clouds. When his companion queried his action, arguing that their informant had been useless, he replied, ‘Oh, no. The information was short, accurate and no bloody use to anyone. That had to be the Pentagon.’

In racing, too, the best information doesn’t always come by the direct route, from a trainer on his third brandy or on a postcard from a jockey’s favourite maiden aunt. Like most in racing I wanted to see Henry Cecil win another Eclipse after all these years with Phoenix Tower.