Zahra wins the Cup but rues his two-finger celebration

Mark Zahra was heckled by spectators before the Melbourne Cup. Then he won it.

Mark Zahra makes his point after victory in the Melbourne Cup at Flemington on Tuesday. Picture: Getty Images.

Mark Zahra was home. Hosed. He looked to his left. Nothing there. Looked to his right. All clear. He stood tall in his irons and won the Melbourne Cup and then he raised two fingers to the Flemington masses. Here was the most mixed of celebratory messages. “Idiot,” he grinned later.

We know the backstory. Zahra’s masterful triumph on Without A Fight followed a week of conjecture, debate, criticism and his own mixed emotions after ditching Gold Trip to hook up with the new seven-year-old gelding in town. A more dramatic love triangle could only come from Beverley Hills 90210 or the Australian swimming team. Zahra’s call didn’t win him any popularity contests with sentimentalists or the Gold Trip camp and immediately prior to the 163rd running of the great race, he was still being heckled by spectators. For being a traitor and so forth.

“The stars aligned for Gold Trip last year and aligned for this horse this year,” he said. “He was a gentleman for me today.”

Perhaps Zahra’s double-digit salute was innocently signifying how many Cups he’d won in a row. A couple. But in the moment, you could have sworn there was more to it. First impression as he came zooming past the post? He was flipping the bird to anyone and everyone who sledged him for ditching the champ. Was it a gesture of pure joy or a get-that-up-ya to dissenters? I suspect it was a bit of both. “Giving the two fingers for two winners, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said.

Euphoria in the moment. Subsequent post-race gestures had the fingers facing forward. Like a peace sign. He kept patting Without A Fight for winning the Cup, well, without a problem. For saving him a large whack of embarrassment. Zahra had the gleeful and almost shocked appearance of a gambler who faced a choice between red and black … and got it right. If Gold Trip won, the hecklers would have been in hysterics. And Zahra would’ve been another Pete Best, dismounting from the Beatles before they struck it big.

Relieved? Quite so. Calming Zahra’s pre-race nerves was the fact he’d already won a Cup. “It helps because I came into the race today and I thought, putting aside all the choosing and all that, I knew I was on a good horse,” he said. “When you’ve won one – a lot of jockeys spend a lifetime trying to. You think it’s never going to happen. They go in thinking, ‘This might be my chance. This might be my chance.’ When you’ve won one you go, ‘If I stuff it up, there’s one at home in the cabinet anyway.’ You have that little luxury. To change horses, and to get a little bit of flak about my choice – they were giving it to me down the race here today, actually – and for it to pay off, it’s justified. I’m just very happy and really, really appreciative.”

In another interview, he said, “I was standing up on the irons doing this (two fingers) across the post, thinking, ‘What are you doing, moron!’”

Cup Day was hot as the outback. Radiant pink and yellow flowers around the mounting yard looked parched enough to keel over and beg for a drink. A bee landed on my arm. The poor bugger didn’t have the energy to deliver a sting. Early races came and went with Damien Oliver winning the Schweppervescence Plate on Wiggum. The weather bureau reckoned it’d be bucketing down at 3pm. They’re as unreliable as Vauban.

It was still oppressive and blowing a gale for the race. So stifling those pink and yellow flowers near the jockey’s race looked ready to keel over and beg for a drink. A bee landed on my arm. Poor bugger didn’t have the energy to deliver a sting. Melbourne, eh? One season in one day – until the heavens finally opened at beer o’clock.

It was windy enough to blow the strings off the orchestra’s violins. Delta Goodrem was at perilous risk of having a hair out of place. None of the horses paraded as impressively as Rich Ricci, the Vauban owner in a top hat worthy of a Dr. Seuss character, pink vest, lavish coat-tails and green sunglasses. He was happy as a clam before the great race. Afterwards, less so. The favourite flopped to 14th, swamped by an absolutely flawless ride from Zahra.

He swung Without A Fight to find the rails from barrier 16. They settled in and took a look around and picked off the leaders one-by-one. See ya, Vauban. Wouldn’t want to be ya, Gold Trip, who came 17th. Oo-roo to Oliver’s Alenquer, which laboured home in 21st. Without A Fight won without the need for a photo. Without a hassle. Without a peep from Zahra’s mockers. Soulcombe started slower than a wet week but became interested enough to run second by two-and-a-half lengths. In third was Sheraz, the roughest of roughies.

“Slowly I made great ground,” Zahra said. “I was following Alenquer that had Ollie on, so there was a tick. Gold Trip (ridden by James McDonald) was in front of me. That was a tick. Ryan Moore (Vauban) was in front of me. That was a tick. I thought if I can stay here as long as I can, I’ll wait for these three excellent jockeys to start making their move and I’ll follow them. So I did. Ollie probably didn’t have the horse and then all of a sudden, I started to travel.”

Home. Hosed. Zahra and the new seven-year-old gelding in town by the proverbial mile for the father-and-son training duo of Anthony and Sam Freedman. He was no idiot. No moron. He used his head and instead of his heart to choose a horse. Not the worst idea in the mug’s game. “Poor old Gold Trip,” Zahra said. “I got right up inside him. It was opening up and I was getting to the front and I thought, ‘There’s just no way on Earth anything is coming up behind me.’ And boom. Away we went.”