Youngest race has ‘old has-been’ dreaming

Winning the Everest ‘might make me feel like less of an old has-been,’ says trainer Les Bridge, 81.

Les Bridge, at his stables in Randwick, hopes Classique Legend will add The Everest to a list of wins that includes the 1987 Melbourne Cup. Picture: Adam Yip.

Bluey gives Les Bridge his 3am wake-up call. They meet at Royal Randwick. Bluey gets through his stablehand duties and then tells Bridge that he’s nicking off to Bondi for bacon, eggs and the newspapers. He carks it at the bus stop right here on High Street.

Right outside the stables used by Bridge since 1956. Right outside this old-school set-up where the oldest trainer at Randwick is plotting to win Australia’s youngest turf race.

It’s like animal farm in here. Cats. Dogs. Horses. A stray feline has a bung eye. Bridge’s dog, Walter, is at his feet when the 81-year-old trainer contemplates winning The Everest.

“Might make me feel like less of an old has-been,” Bridge says. “All through my life I’ve had a horse they’ve laughed at, but I’ve known when it’s been a good one. I’ve got another good one here. This bloke has come along when I need him.”

At Bridge’s age, not everyone has gone the distance with you. Scratched too soon have been his laconic, big-hearted wife, Peg.

“Cancer is a bastard of a thing,” he says. “A scourge. It’s been five years.”

And Bluey. Never made it to Bondi for breakfast.

“Had him here for 45 years,” Bridge says. “He used to ring me at half past three every morning. Then he dropped dead out the front.

“After all those years. We’d finished sweeping the yard together one Sunday morning. I said, ‘What are you doing now, mate?’ He said, ‘I’m going down to Bondi.’ He was a creature of habit. That’s what he did every Sunday morning. I went home.

“A bloke working down the road rang me up. He said, ‘Mate, you’ve got a problem up at the stables. Bluey’s collapsed out at the bus stop.’

“I jumped in my car, turned the corner and thought ‘oh f. k, look at this’. Sirens and lights everywhere.

“He was dead when I got here. Sixty-nine years old. Heart attack while he was waiting for his bus.”

The Rabbitoh

Melbourne Cup winner jockey Larry Olsen who rode racehorse Kensei 04/11/87. Pic: News Limited

Bridge has lived up the road at Kensington since day one. A South Sydney cap is always on. He’s the local’s local. Chaperone to his first Rabbitohs game? Clive Churchill.

“True story,” he says. “My ­father owned the Star hotel in ­Alexandria. I was about 12, before I came to the stables.

“Souths used to drink at our pub so my family became good friends with, oh, Clivey Churchill, Chicka Cowie, Johnnie Graves, the forward who used to kick the goals, Bernie Purcell.

“I wasn’t into football. I was ­always with the ponies, but one day Clivey said, ‘Want to come to the football?’

“He came and picked me up. Took me to Redfern Oval. They played Wests. They won. I thought this was a bit strange.

“Wests had a five-eighth called Frankie Stanmore. He finished up back at our place after the game. He was Clivey’s mate.

“They belted the hell out of each other all game but they were mates again after it.

“They were terrific blokes, those Souths blokes. Clivey Churchill was a lovely guy. Just a good bloke. Very knockabout. You wouldn’t have known who he was. I didn’t comprehend it. He was just a mate of my father’s called Clivey. That’s when I started following Souths, and I’ve been following them ever since.”

Cup triumph

The 1987 Melbourne Cup. Bridge won it with Kensei, ridden by Larry Olsen.

“I had a horse in work for ­nearly 12 months,” he says. “I had him set for the Metropolitan. Bloody Larry ran him into a dead end and got beat. He ran second. We were great mates. He was a great rider. It was just one of those things, he got in a traffic jam following Mick Dittman, something happened. He got out, came home strong. He said, ‘Les, don’t turn him out. Please. I couldn’t pull him up after the race. I know I got beat. I stuffed it up. But don’t pull him out of the Cup.’

“Larry was getting to the end of his career. Late thirties. I said, ‘You just want a ride in the Melbourne Cup, that’s all!’ He said, ‘No mate.’ I said, ‘All right, Larry, we’ll take him down’.”

First stop, the MacKinnon Stakes. “They called it the Practice Stakes in those days,” Bridge says.

“He was a good horse. A tough horse. Looked like he was carved out of granite. He was hard. I knew he was very fit.

“Bloody Larry got himself suspended. I had no jockey for the McKinnon. Patty Hyland was a great jockey. I said, ‘Mate, would you take this horse around in the McKinnon for me?’

“We were all great mates. He came in after it and pointed at Larry and said, ‘I hope that prick falls over in the shower and hurts himself. I’ll ride Kensei and win the Melbourne Cup for you.’

“He was only joking. Sort of. I put Larry on and it was the ride of his life.”

The latest quest

Bridge fronted the television cameras on Monday at Royal Randwick. He’s shuffled over to the slick white trainers’ hut in the middle of the track. He never normally goes there. He watches Classique Legend at the bottom of the hill on the far side.

“I don’t go into the Taj Mahal,” he says of the modern hut. “I was 22 when I got my licence. Now I’m 81. You work out how long I’ve been here. I was the youngest trainer at Randwick. Now I’m the oldest. What are you laughin’ at? And I’m the most difficult. Would I be, or not?”

Not. “I’d rather make a quid doing this than anything else on earth,” he says.

“Not that I’m kidding myself. I wouldn’t be much good doing anything else. I was an apprentice jockey. Not a very good one. If I was a trainer, I wouldn’t be putting me on a horse. I was one of those. I didn’t like wasting. Had a couple of falls.

“My boss was Clydey Cook. J.W. Cook. He had cancer. I started taking over. He taught me well. I’m not a mug.

“I knew I was an ordinary jockey and thought maybe I’d make a better trainer. I was 22. All the old trainers said I’d go broke. Wouldn’t be able to pay the rent. I’m still here. Didn’t go broke. I’ve got all my mates here. The horses. My dog. I’m like the old journeyman boxer. I keep looking up at the clock to see how much longer the round has to go.”

To Classique Legend’s stable. Built of granite? His back is to us. “Come on, mate,” Bridge says. “Come here.”

The four-year-old gelding turns and comes straight over.