The Kilbeggan Races pt. 3

Continuing an article from here.


At four fifteen, cars have started to fill up the large grassy lot. Groups of racegoers amble towards the entrance. The gentle flow of the public breaks around hawkers, scattered across the lot. A short woman in a striped track suit, with a raw red complexion and a powerful voice calls, "Programs for a pound. Racing forms." Inside, other women call from behind small carts laden with fruit and sweets. Wait until the end of the day, and from them you can get basketsfull of ripe peaches and rich plums for a pound bars of Cadbury chocolate. [author's note: This article was originally written for a travel mag shortly before the conversion to the Euro. Since then, the Kilbeggan races, has become arguable the premier event for Nation Hunt racing among the regional races.]

The program lists an offering of seven hurls and chases. A hurdle, or hurl, is a small wooden frame stuffed with fur branches, about six inches in width, and represents modest difficulties for horse and rider. The more formidable fence is a taller, wider wooden structure. A true hazard. A steeple-chase involves the fences, and is billed on the racing card as simply, a chase. There are less chases at this meeting than hurdles. There are virtually no flat races, or dashes. They do not command the same excitement. Also, and importantly, the best flat race horse might not come to this or other regional race grounds. They are the most valuable horses, competing in the biggest races in the land, and abroad. National Hunt horses could not compete with them in dashes, and the dashers would not be risked over the fences. A different build of horse is suited to the jump format.

All seven races are sponsored. The success with sponsorship is a major reason for the renaissance of the Kilbeggan Races. This year alone, the town racing committee managed to invest a hundred fifty thousand pounds in the racetrack.

Naturally, as an event in existence since the 1840's, the history of thee races has been as precarious as the track itself. Once upon a time horses raced along the Kilbeggan-Moate road, and the remains of a fence can still be found there. More recently, in June of 1990, Kilbeggan experienced meeting of strange nature. On that date all of Ireland watched their soccer team advance in World Cup competition against Romania. At the track, a few scattered punters and unlucky workers moved about in an almost-silence of the Irish twilight.

Today in the grandstands the crowd is animated and amiable. A national paper, the Independent, in a favorable review, has described the affair as perhaps reaching less that the height of fashion. A worthwhile, everyman's race. Yet the majority of racegoers are well dressed and sporty, even formal. In the VIP bar a dark, turbaned man stands with a woman in pantaloons. Strategic eaves-dropping confirms that this is indeed the Indian Ambassador and his wife. Society has come to Kilbeggan.

A low murmur of speculation grows before the start of the first race, a Midland accent as flat as this track is undulating. There is no starting gate. Course workers draw a length of rope across the track, and drop it when the white flag is raised. This occurs when the horses have gathered into some semblance of order. Certainly, much maneuvering and shouldering occurs. A horse might even start a race sideways, or, with particular hard luck, backwards.

"The flag is raised," says the announcer . . .

to be continued