The echoes of early hoofbeats

Local racing of yesteryear was woven into a tapestry of nostalgia and history, fading, yet familiar and unforgettable

WHEN the Sarawak Turf Club first took shape in 1924, its founders may have dreamt of Newmarket and Epsom — an understandable reverie in an age when colonial life embraced sporting pursuits and the romance of the turf loomed large. What emerged, however, was far humbler — a wooden grandstand, modest amenities and a makeshit racecourse.

Back then, the location of the Club — Jalan Lumba Kuda, encompassing a large area within Padungan and William Tan Roads — was still more plantation than town. Horses were few, the surroundings plain. Racegoers gathered to “see horse and talk horse” and a race meeting usually unfolded with quiet laughter and wagers, and an unhurried passage of the afternoon.

In its infancy, the Club did not race thoroughbreds. Instead, the image of an Englishman astride a pony came to symbolise local racing. This smaller breed — no more than 14.2 hands or 58 inches (4 ft 10 ins) tall at the withers — sustained the Club through its formative years.

Scanty early racing records left flashes of history, achievement and drama. In 1880, Charles Brooke introduced racing to Kuching with Borneo and Sulu ponies, costing $50 each and vying for $20 stakes. During a three-day meeting, one pony named Polo won five races, demonstrating the stamina of these local breeds.

By 1890, the Kuching Annual Racing Regatta had become a social fixture. That year, a bay pony named Roman Candle, owned by businessman Song Seng and ridden by Major Day, Commandant of the Sarawak Rangers, topped the programme with a double.

In 1902, some 22 years before the Club’s formal inauguration, the Sultan of Johor sent over a pony named Hercules to compete. Recalling the event in his book “Sarawak Long Ago”, a former Club handicapper WJ Chater wrote: “Running in the class for Australian and Indian ponies, it easily won the Towkays’ Cup on the first day, and the Sarawak Civil Service Cup, presented by the Rajah, by eight lengths on the second day.”

In later years, a pony named Puca Architect aptly exemplified the rugged spirit of his breed. One afternoon in the 1950s, over 8 furlongs, the roan, barely topping 13 hands, was caught up in a false start. When the field was called back, Puca Architect continued running, unaware of the recall. A restart was ordered but by then, Puca Architect had already completed a full mile.

Remarkably, the spunky roan came back to the line and did the extraordinary. He dominated the “fresher” field as if the lost mile had never been run. The crowd looked on in astonishment as the game pony effectively raced twice when once should have sufficed.

Asked how they pulled it off, the jockey, Asing, enthused: “Layang terbang merlayang (we soared like a kite).

Another story followed much the same script. A pony named Nasib Saya also went through the ordeal of a false start — this time over 4 furlongs (1/2 mile). The field broke through the tape before the starter’s order and was reassembled. Nasib Saya who missed the call-back entirely, galloped on to the winning post. The jockey, Samsuddin Kawi, looked back and saw only empty track. He was puzzled. Surely, he couldn’t have won by two furlongs or more — so far ahead that the others were still rounding the bend when he crossed the finish line. At the 4-furlong starting point, a red flag fluttered in the wind, signalled a false start.

Nasib Saya returned for a second attempt and quickly regained his rhythm, sweeping past the field to power home ahead of his nearest rival, Bintang Kilong — a redeeming victory that decisively vindicated both pony and rider.

Ponies were often given colourful, almost playful, names — Lucky Boy, Atom Boy, Cabaret, Kiss Me Again, Ok Ok, Yes Or No, Machine Gun, Burong Marak, Tunggu Nasib, Bujang Bolong, Nonya Baleh and more. There were, of course, the less flattering names too — Crocodile, Crazy Dog, Saya Bodoh and Kick Me. These were often whispered with brow-raising amusement.

A thoroughbred was even called My Grandfather — a name that never failed to tickle and amuse when duty required the racing commentator to call out over the PA: “My Grandfather coming under the whip”. Many would exchange glances before asking, tongue-in-cheek, “Did you hear that right?”

In the 1950s, a young jockey, Richard Ong, had a memorable ride on a sturdy roan named Tokyo Holiday over 8 furlongs. Partnered by a mount that readily answered every call, Richard bided his time before asking for a final effort in the closing furlong. Responding on cue, Tokyo Holiday outkicked the field to a well-earned victory, putting a glowing feather on Richard’s cap.

One much-anticipated race was a 6-furlong showdown between three Class One ponies — Black Beauty, ridden by Manan Sulaiman, Larry II (Taloon Sukut) and Laksamana (Asuwadi Nawi). It was head-to-head from the very first stride — no quarters given, none asked. The final furlong was a heart-stopper, the trio locked in a battle of speed, stamina and spirit. Larry II edged forward near the winning post to win in a photo finish. The race held a timeless quality for the spectators.

The match-up left a dramatic echo — Laksamana’s jockey fell off just after the finish — a fleeting suspense, and though the rider was unhurt, memory of that tumbling moment gallops on.

For much of the year, the centre of the track was overgrown with tall bushes and lalang grass. From the back straight, runners were often little more than obscure dots. It was only after the thick vegetation had been trimmed that the runners became fully visible.

On stormy days, track conditions got really heavy. That was when the mudlarks truly shone. One particular race, run over 8 furlongs in driving rain, saw a grey pony revel in the mud. The downpour was so heavy that the runners could hardly be sighted. Only in the final furlong did one figure emerge through the rain. It was that grey pony with a name that suited the day perfectly — Thunder Storm. He danced in the rain while the others floundered.

As racing became more popular, thoroughbreds were introduced. An early import was a gelding named Mr Chips. He did not arrive draped in a victory blanket but was instead dismissed as an “elderly gentleman” better suited for the pasture than the track. If there was one thing he could truly claim, it was surviving the Japanese occupation in Malaya where he previously raced. Pundits had all but written him off, even suggesting that old nags like him were destined for the knackers’ yard. But Mr Chips was more horse than the tipsters ever allowed. Defying the odds, he bounced back to win in the 1953 Autumn Cup. More wins followed, each a fitting rebuke to the doubters.

Mr Chips ended his career with a brave second place at the ripe equine age of eleven. He reportedly spent his retirement in Simmanggang, remembered fondly by those who believed in second chances.

Another horse named Cherith had notable successes on the local turf in the early 1950s. The grey English importation came from the same stable that won several major races, including the Sarawak St Leger, the Governor’s Cup, and the Autumn Cup, and Cherith contributed greatly to all those victories.

Hattrick, a black gelding with an attitude, was the punter’s delight on a good day but every jockey’s nightmare on a bad one. A racer defined by moods and moments, his crowning achievement came in the Sarawak Derby (1½ miles) in the early 1960s where he outduelled a worthy rival named Sarawak Ramin. Headstrong, yet, magnificent, Hattrick was an imperfect legend, racing on the edge of a mercurial temperament.

At that time, horses with cranky behaviour were not uncommon on the local turf. Crescent, for instance, would inexplicably brake just past the 6-furlong mark as though blocked by an invisible barrier. Not even wild horses could make him cross that phantom line. Similarly, Swift Arrow had his own peculiar sense of timing, screeching to a halt just shy of the 7-furlong post. Bettors unlucky to be “bitten” by the pair’s odd rituals, swore the two miscreants were racing against ghosts only they could see.

Some runners, however, wore their defiance in silence at the start. Two unpredictable mares — Caribbean and Air Hostess — could stand rooted to the ground, refusing to budge an inch when the tape lifted. Yet, when fancy struck, they would tear across the track, leaving everyone else trailing. Such moments were few and far between — the rule rather than the exception.

There was also the heart-rending story of New Grass, a well-conformed brown gelding who could “sprint and stay” with victories ranging from 5 furlongs to one mile. His racing career — and the prospect of further success — were cut short by a near-tragic incident during a six-furlong race. The gelding was leading into the home straight when the saddle strap and blanket shifted sideways under the top weight on his back, dislodging his jockey, Eddie Bol. Riderless and spooked, New Grass galloped back toward the yard and collided with the stable railings. Although the impact didn’t break any bones, it broke the gelding’s spirit. New Grass was never quite the same again. He might have won more races if not for that career-altering accident.

Past jockeys who still echo in memory included Samsuddin Kawie, his brother Medin, Eddie Abang. Putit Abang, Manan Sulaiman, Keram Ali, Puteh Ali, Mat Kassim, Lihi Haji Jariee, Teo Ek Pah, Tan Tau Enn and the old-timers — Asing, Matnor, Lundu and Ayub. Each had his style and ability.

In the early days, the “crouch” style was more a novelty than the norm. Most local jockeys rode the old way — upright in the saddle, bodies set back, stirrups long, high heel action and reins often flailing — a style suited to racing ponies. Among its true exponents was Eddie Abang who made it sparkle with effortless flair atop the pony Cabaret.

Samsuddin (Kawi) rode tall through numerous meetings. One of his finest achievements came astride the chestnut gelding, Impala, with whom he passed through the winner’s gate many times. Medin left an equally enduring mark, particularly on the chestnut sprinter, Fresh Boy, who could leave even the keenest rival in the dust over 5 furlongs.

Teo Ek Pah was known for his sound judgement of pace. On the grey mare, Capitol, he frequently came from behind to pip the field. His triumph aboard Hattrick in the Sarawak Derby mirrored this ability as he strategically saved “the best for last” with a decisive finishing burst to secure the prestigious win.

By contrast, Tan Tau Enn rode with fearless abandon. In many of his rides, his daring catch-me-if-you-can tactic created gaps too large for the “Jimmies Come Lately” to close.

During that period, Putit Abang forged a highly successful partnership with the gritty bay stayer, Jiranji, while Manan Sulaiman rose to prominence largely on the back of the consistent brown gelding, Tolana.

Riders from outside Sarawak who earned their spurs at the Club included Johari, Asuwadi Nawi and KP Yong. They booted home their fair share of winners on the local turf.

Looking back, if a local jockey were to be crowned the best, Rosli Haji Jaraie would be the pick. Trained at the Apprentice School in Singapore, he had skill and poise in equal measure. Unfortunately, a naturally heavy physique forced him to hang up his riding boots sooner than anyone would have wished.

In the 1950s, jockeys from Singapore, Malaya and Australia brought a touch of glamour to the local racing scene. Names like Ken Barratt, Subian Dawlee, Chris Dragon and Sonny Ng made the race day feel a little grander with their classy jockeyship.

Barratt etched himself into memory with a stirring 6-furlong victory. Guiding the mare, Her Highness, he “flew” down the outside track to score a glorious victory.

Another Australian, Des Coleman also left his mark at the Club. A seasoned thoroughbred jockey, he showed rare finesse in adapting to the ponies, winning a 4-furlong race on a grey, Forget Me Not II. He later remarked, with a knowing smile, that the naughtier ponies had more character and would twist their heads and nip at your boots if you weren’t paying attention.

During its heyday, the Club hosted two classic races — the Datuk Wee Kheng Chiang Gold Cup for ponies and the Tunku’s Gold Cup for horses. The Gold Cup meetings were always a full house, buzzing with anticipation and excitement. Local racing came alive with the presence of MRA jockeys, some of whom had carved their names into the Club’s history — riders like Martin Sng, Leslie Khoo, TS Chiam, Rodney Alan and SK Ho. VIP guests were also in attendance and the Club exuded an atmosphere of grandeur, befitting its role as host of the King of Sport.

In restrospect, one cannot help but reminisce about those memories — the distinguished personalities, the passionate racing crowds, the camaraderie and rivalry and, above all, the resounding thunder of hooves. Those days local racing were more than sport — they were a tapestry of human spirit and equine grace, never to be forgotten.