Why the premium job in horse racing belongs to Black Caviar trainer Peter Moody

BLACK Caviar has taken him on the ride of his life, but part of Peter Moody can't wait for it all to be over, Andrew Webster discovers.

Black Caviar

WITH the exception of the stallion that does nothing more than service a hundred or so mares every season, surely the premium job in racing belongs to Peter Moody.

Training a horse that never loses? Yes please.

"There's some f ... ing narks out there, even when it comes to a horse like her," Moody says of Black Caviar.

"People saying, 'This has beat nothin'. The races are tailor-made'. There's not a lot of enjoyment. I would think that maybe a few years down the track I will be able to enjoy what she's done. But at the moment, probably not."

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Moody tells you this at the Inglis yearling sales in Sydney on Wednesday. It's been a long day. He's been jabbed a few times publicly from local horseman about the mare "earning her paycheck" this time. She's had too many soft kills.

Then he learnt she would be racing in the last event on the program this Saturday, when he would prefer an earlier start.He takes a gulp of the stubby of XXXX Gold in front of him, then ashes his cigarette into one of the empty bottles he's just knocked back.

"You know that aura of invincibility is what makes her so interesting to people away from racing," he continues.

"So, you'd hate to lose that. I know, if that happens, I'll be the f ... . er that will be kicked to death. The owners will be called greedy and I'll be kicked to death for being a mug. Everyone's going to forget the last 24 races. They will remember the 25th."

No matter what, we will all remember today.

The unbeaten Black Caviar will strut around the Theatre of the Horse at the reborn Royal Randwick, then through the tunnel and underneath the new wood-panelled grandstand and out onto the course proper for the T.J. Smith Stakes.

It's her last race in Sydney. Her attempt to surpass Kingston Town's record of 14 Group 1 victories. The climax to a landmark afternoon.

Australian Turf Club officials have been sweating bullets over this moment for months, but amid the euphoria of it all will be Moody, chain-smoking and wanting it to be over.

"I thought there was no pressure with her, but then came England," he says of her run at Ascot last June, when she was feted like a Neighbours star on arrival before sneaking home in the Diamond Jubilee Stakes.

"I was f ... ed. I had a couple of mates come with me, and I'm glad they f ... in' came because I would've been off my head. We were going to Paris to paint the town red for three days. We went there and didn't want to leave the hotel room. We were just that f ... ed. We were like, 'Thank f ... that's over'. It was an overwhelming sense of relief."

In case you hadn't noticed, Moody swears. He swears a lot. He also smokes plenty, too. About 30 a day.

"Never tried to give up, but I know I have to," he concedes.

Cigarette. XXXX Gold.

"For the first time in my life, I'm just starting to feel them. If I go for a run or walk I can feel it, so I know I've got to."

Moody is 43, but comes across far younger and knockabout away from the cameras, in which he has become a regular performer. He speaks regularly about the Black Caviar phenomenon because he feels a sense of obligation.

"Jack Denham could've trained her," he grins of the late trainer who blacklisted the press for decades. "How would you have been then? Or Bart with one-line answers?"

His phone is constantly alive, not least because of alarms he sets for himself when one of his other thoroughbreds are about to race and he's not at the track.

"I wake up in the middle of the night and think about the other ones, because they need more time," he says. "Black Caviar looks after herself. It's the slow f ... ers that need the help."

Right now, in the last at Sandown, Liberty Rock - an $8 shot - is the "other horse".

When they hit the line, Moody is pessimistic about whether his Rock of Gibraltar three-year-old has been edged out in a photo.

"Put your head down you weak bastard," he growls as the judge takes his time deciding which horse has won. "F ... Which one?"

Cigarette. XXXX Gold. It's ... Liberty Rock.

"Yes!" he shouts. "Well trained. F ... ing genius."

Now seems the best time to ask how many horses he has in work. Try about 300.

"I never thought I would get that big," Moody admits. "I'm a very realistic bloke. I'm just happy making a living. I used to be happy winning maidens at Ipswich. People say it's weak, but I've never set any goals. Why set yourself up for disappointment? My goal was having tucker in the fridge and a dollar in the bank and making mortgage payments."

You wouldn't expect anything different from someone who grew up in Charleville in outback Queensland, who then worked under no less than Tommy Smith and Colin Hayes before becoming stable foreman for Bill Mitchell in Sydney for a decade in the 1990s.

He lived in Sydney's eastern suburbs during that period, and played rugby league for Kensington in the Souths Juniors competition.

"It was a tough f ... ing comp playing against Larpa, Maroubra, Redfern All Blacks," he recalls. "You used to get some of big ignorant f ... ers who would come back from grade football, and (go after me) because I was a big young fella.

"For me, it's all about the mateship. I play veterans cricket in Melbourne for the same reason. They know I'm a horse trainer and they don't drive me mad. They take the piss out of me. You get the Black Caviar reporters chasing you and they'll send them in the opposite direction to where I live."

Cigarette. XXXX Gold.

"I'd like to think I've kept my relaxed knockabout way. I'd like to think I can go home to Charleville and sit in the pub with the boys I went to school with that are 'navvies' on the railways and I can go to Royal Ascot and shake hands and chat to the Queen. And felt comfortable in both situations."

"I have to go to dinner tonight with Sheikh Fahad (the Qatari royal and owner of Melbourne Cup winner Dunaden) but I'm a beer and barbie man. I'm not a champagne man. But I know in my industry you have to do that sometimes."

This is the part of the scene that is wearing Moody down, as much as the expectation that Black Caviar will always win. He has a mantra for each new owner to let them know exactly where they stand.

"If you need someone to piss in your pocket and hold your hand, you've got the wrong bloke," he tells them. "I'd rather be with my staff and horses than going out to dinner of a night. I'm happy to let my fellow trainers take my clients out to dinner, as long as they give me a few to train."

At some stage soon, he predicts he will be preparing none. He has three daughters, and he reckons his wife Sarah is "over it" all, too.

"I'm not a lifer," Moody says, making his job sound like imprisonment. "I love what I do, but it's the people-side that wears you down. The horses I love. The staff, the clients, that's the bit that wears thin. I'll always be involved in the industry, but I'd have to question if it's as a public trainer. I'll be happy when it's all over."

One last swig of the XXXX Gold. He flicks the cigarette away. Then Moody laughs.

"She's a massive pain in the arse," he says. "But I'm happy she's my pain in the arse."