by Helen Thomas
The barrister made it clear that his client was not in a position to do this, as he relied heavily on prize money to run his stable. Training fees alone were simply insufficient to run the business, which cost Moody some $15 million a year. Stirling also argued that the case against his Moody was entirely circumstantial.
After the hearing at Racing Victoria’s headquarters in Flemington, the trainer tried to be diplomatic. ‘I don’t feel this case warrants the rule that was stipulated today, which gives the stewards the opportunity to stand me down,’ he told reporters covering his first public stand-off with chief steward Terry Bailey.
‘I respect their right to put it forward, but I don’t believe this is a fitting case for that,’ he said. ‘I have worked closely with RVL and the stewards’ department to work this situation out, and will continue to do so going forward … but I can assure you that every dollar that goes through my business is put back into my business to keep it going.’
Bailey told Moody he’d inform him of the decision in due course.
This time, the trainer did not have long to wait for news that was devastating, if not entirely unexpected. Early in August, Racing Victoria informed the ‘Cobalt Five’ that any prize money percentages they earned in Group or Listed races through the spring would be withheld until their cases were heard by the Racing Appeals and Disciplinary Board. If they were found guilty, that money would be forfeited. In light of the 15-year sentence New South Wales trainer Darren Smith had failed to have overturned for cobalt offences a week earlier, it was clear that Australian stewards were now taking a collective ‘anti-cobalt’ stance.
‘Having considered all evidence and submissions, stewards are of the opinion that the continued participation of each trainer might undermine the image of racing, given the serious prohibited substance charges they are facing and that the cases against them are strong,’ Terry Bailey said.
‘The stewards are of the further opinion that elevated cobalt levels are a serious breach of the rules of racing, and given the profile of the trainers involved, it has placed significant global attention on Victorian racing and the image and conduct of our sport. The stewards consider that racing’s interests are best served by safeguarding the reputation and image of racing, particularly in races which attract significant national and international attention’.
Peter Moody was aghast, and indicated he was considering appealing the ruling. But he quickly decided against that move. The meter was now well and truly ticking on the costs of his legal counsel as the matter entered unchartered waters. At least he could be sure his barrister was in his corner. From the start of spring, when he made his next appearance for his beleaguered client before the RAD Board, it was obvious Matthew Stirling was on the front foot.
At a directions hearing on 5 September, Stirling listened as Judge Russell Lewis outlined the two options available to his client. One of two hearing dates could be set aside for the case: a short hearing in the week of 5 October, if the barrister chose not to challenge the science surrounding cobalt as a performance-enhancing substance, or a three-day hearing from 14 December, if he wanted to grasp the nettle. Stirling stood his ground, explaining that he needed time to make this call. The question had to be decided by 25 September.
It was a significant roll of the dice either way. If Moody and his legal team chose the early date, his would be the first Victorian cobalt charge to be tested. For obvious reasons, this had genuine appeal. The trainer was clear in his view: he wanted the matter over, and the sooner the better – for all concerned.
Within a fortnight, it became apparent that this was a massive understatement.
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On Wednesday, 16 September, stewards forced the late withdrawal of Moody stable runner Lady Tatai from a race at Pakenham because she had allegedly been given a ‘race-day treatment’, a clay poultice the stable used to help keep horses’ legs cool. Her trainer was incandescent with anger. He was now facing a three-month ban as a result of this latest alleged infringement of the racing rules.
Moody was interviewed by Shane Anderson, a host of Racing Victoria’s live television network – Channel 78 – which was broadcasting from the course. The stream-of-consciousness outburst that followed sent seismic waves through Australian racing circles.
At its heart was Moody’s conviction that he was being personally targeted by chairman of stewards Terry Bailey. This was founded on what souded like an extraordinary claim: that Bailey had tried to embed a spy in his stable some 18 months earlier. The trainer was adamant, unrepentant and specific in his detail.
‘Eighteen months ago,’ Moody said, ‘Terry Bailey, Dayle Brown [the head of RV’s integrity unit] and Dr Brian Stewart [RV’s chief vet] sat in a room with a man, who I will name if asked, and offered him employment to work in my stables to [offer] information on what I was doing within my stables. So they obviously believe I am a cheat. If that’s the case, surely they all need to hand in their briefs, because they’ve been incompetent in not being able to catch me … Should that make me start to think it’s personal? … Has RVL got to grow a set of balls and maybe make people outside of trainers responsible for what’s happening in this industry? Am I bad for the industry? Am I that bad for it? Maybe people out there think I am. Maybe they need to take my licence off me and push me away, and I’ve got no doubt what I’m saying now will make them think about that. But I’ve got to the point now where I don’t care, and that saddens me.’
This was an unprecedented exposition, especially for a participant already on notice with the stewards.
The claim itself – that racing authorities had considered planting a stable ‘spy’ in Moody’s yard – seemed far-fetched, inflammatory and beyond the realm of professional protocol. It soon became clear that it was not. Victoria’s chief steward explained to Fairfax Media that, since 2011, he had been trying to find a job for an old acquaintance from his hometown of Rockhampton.
‘He told me that he’d lost his job and felt that racing had gone by him,’ Bailey said. ‘That’s all he ever knew, so I said there might be a position, we’ll wait and see. As he had been a horseman all his life, he knew what stable life was all about and we considered him as the sort of bloke who could go into a stable – not Moody’s – but one that may have been causing us grave concerns.’
To kick this idea around, senior integrity officers from Racing Victoria met with Sal Perna, the state’s Racing Integrity Commissioner. ‘Sal came back to us with some pluses, but the negatives outweighed them and that was it,’ Bailey revealed. ‘[We] never at any stage had a specific stable in mind. To say that we had Moody in mind is plainly and simply wrong.’
It seemed impossible that this very public argument between the two Queenslanders could get any worse. Hours later it did, when Michael Healy, a former Rockhampton jockey and barrier attendant, told Melbourne’s Herald Sun that he had been taken to lunch by Terry Bailey and Dayle Brown, and allegedly told they wanted to ‘plant me in’ as an employee at Moody Racing.
‘They wanted me to work [there] for three months and take notes when the vet was there; anything that looked a bit strange or different. Check what went into the feeds, that sort of stuff and report back to them each night,’ he said. Healy said he rejected the offer of work ‘because it just wasn’t right’. After his lunch with the two senior stewards, Healy rang the trainer to tell him what had been discussed.
When confronted with this version of events, the chief steward admitted that Michael Healy had indeed been approached. ‘I can certainly confirm that, and we did discuss the concept [of him being a plant].’ But Terry Bailey told Melbourne radio station Racing Sports Network (RSN) that there was nothing personal about the stewards’ interest in Moody Racing. ‘No, not at all; at the end of the day, we have one rule book, whether it’s the leading trainer or a two-horse trainer from the country.’
When asked whether using informants was morally right, Bailey told host Shane Anderson there were two answers to that question
. ‘Firstly, we didn’t do it; we did a risk assessment, got advice and decided not to go ahead with it. The second part to this is that racetracks, as long as we’ve been going to the races, are full of rumour and innuendo. Personally, I couldn’t see anything wrong with the concept if we were to go and find out for ourselves, and if we had someone there who was looking at stables and how they were managed. And if there was nothing to see, we move on.’
Even with his back against the wall, Bailey pointedly refused to rule out the use of ‘plants’ in the future. ‘For the time being, yes … [but] never say never,’ he stated.
He was equally defiant when discussing the cobalt charges Peter Moody was facing: ‘An old mentor of mine once said, “The horse didn’t go down to the chemist and get it himself.” [Lidari’s cobalt level] is well over the threshold, it’s got there somehow; it has to have been administered.’ While there was no evidence at this stage that the trainer had administered it, Bailey continued, ‘that’s not unusual in positive swab cases; it’s usually the Sergeant Schultz defence: “I know nothing.”’
Peter Moody also stood firm, reiterating his desire for his case to be heard as quickly as possible by the RAD Board. ‘I’m sick of the whole thing. October 5 will be a year and a day since [the stewards] rolled into my stables and told me Lidari had a positive. That’s long enough, isn’t it?’
This was not entirely a rhetorical question, but its uncharacteristically plaintive tone hinted at the stress the trainer was now feeling. In what would become a constant and increasingly frustrated refrain, Moody maintained his innocence – and hinted at the momentous decision he could ultimately make.
‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ the trainer said. ‘Part of me would like to just walk away, but I’ve got an obligation to my family and my owners. I want to clear my name, then I can decide my future on my terms. I don’t want to make any rash decisions.’
Even those who did not know him heard his message plainly: a little part of Peter Moody wanted to walk away from racing.
Could he be serious? The fatigue and the tension of the past few months must finally be getting to him, commentators mused. How could it not, after the pressure he had sustained through his years with Black Caviar? As successful as their time together had been, it must have taken a toll on the man. Being the keeper of such a flame never looked easy, probably from the halfway mark of the great sprinter’s career.
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Two weeks later, as Australian racing geared up for its internationally famous Spring Carnival, Matthew Stirling returned to Racing Victoria’s hearing room to tell Judge Lewis that the trainer would indeed fight the charges relating to Lidari. And yes, he would be challenging the science surrounding the use of cobalt. He and his client were up for the fight.
This meant that Moody’s would now be the last of the ‘big three’ cobalt cases to go before the RAD Board. Although this was logical for legal reasons, it was obvious that the delay would increase the scrutiny on Moody over the next two and a half months. The matter, which hadn’t been in the full public gaze since charges were laid, was back now in the mainstream news cycle. The trainer would have to be prepared for a different kind of attention.
Those around Moody worried for him. Could the kid from Wyandra, a four-time champion trainer in Victoria, make it through the spring of 2015? There was one horse, at least, that might buoy him, another young stallion who had not only made the grade but also looked on track to become Australian Racing’s Horse of the Year. As the racing gods would have it, his name was Dissident.
A diffident Peter Moody let it be known that he would likely be a ‘no show’ on the awards night.
8
RACING IS AN inexact science. No matter how strong a horse’s pedigree, how deep a trainer’s knowledge, how refined a jockey’s poise, the results are perpetually unpredictable. Frustratingly, maddeningly, inexplicably so. There was no way of knowing how successful the young horseman was going to be, now he had made it to another big city.
Certainly he had potential, not to mention an apparent intuition about horses. But could he parlay that into accomplishment at the elite level? He liked to portray himself as the boy from Queensland’s west, a knockabout outsider. But bush trainers are a dime a dozen, and that image would wear thin if his horses couldn’t run. He would need to be a true rarity: a professional who could ‘cross over’ from the Queensland heat to the cool of the south.
He and Sarah decided they would leave no stone unturned on this particular journey. Moody hit the ground running, his small band of horses performing well at city tracks, and travelling far and wide across the state to make ‘easy kills’ at country tracks such as Ararat and Warrnambool, Kilcoy and Wodonga. This was all part of the plan, of course – a Moody strong suit.
His early success did not go unnoticed. After Amalfi’s Victoria Derby win, punters quietly latched on to the effectiveness of the stable. More than a decade later, many still fondly recall the ‘honest horses’ Tony Haydon lists: Niagara Falls, Vain Halo, Umagold, Karamazou, Marbine. These gallopers weren’t flash; they were the stable’s equine soldiers, and they helped build its firm foundation.
As well as showing a willingness to travel to the so-called backblocks with his little team of triers, Peter Moody was also building an enviable client base of well-heeled owners. If they weren’t breeding their own horses to race with him, they had pockets deep enough to buy yearlings at Australia’s annual sales. And even at that early stage, the trainer was prepared to back his judgement and stand his ground in the sale ring, with or without major owners behind him to pick up the tab. If there is one thing he had always been proud of, it was his sense of a good young horse.
Yet the gems of the new yard turned out to be the older mares. A couple of clients would buy these horses and, before sending them off to become broodmares, give them to Moody to see if he could get them going again on the track. Studmaster and breeder Stuart Ramsey was especially keen on this approach.
‘We did have a bit of luck with those mares,’ Michael Bryant recalls. The chiropractor was pivotal, getting these mares up and running and keeping them on track. Ancient Song was one ‘old girl’ who flourished at Caulfield, winning nine races, including the Group 1 Salinger Stakes in 2003, and just under $800,000 in prize money from her 36 starts. A year later, Sky Cuddle was another to reach the elite level, winning the Emirates Stakes and nearly $850,000 from six wins and 32 starts. Her older half-sister Sky Love was no slouch either, racking up five wins through 28 races, and a career tally of just over $228,000.
There were young fillies too, who came along later and grew up to become tough and reliable performers, often travelling up the highway to snatch spoils in Brisbane and Sydney. Cinque Cento romped away with the Group 1 Doomben Cup in 2007, while the pint-sized Riva San became the stable’s first multiple Group 1 winner a year later: she won the Queensland Oaks and, just seven days later, beat ‘the boys’ in the Queensland Derby.
As good as he was with these girls, Peter Moody also had a good eye for a young colt, and having spent so much time with General Nedyim, he knew what to look for in a top sprinter. He saw it in Magnus almost at once.
The handsome youngster was bred to be fast, being a son of one of the more emphatic Golden Slipper victors, Flying Spur. His mother, too, had been a very fast race mare called Scandinavia, and boasted the brilliant sprinting stallion Vain as a grandfather on her maternal side. So far, she had not been a success as a broodmare. Magnus was her third foal and first son, but her two daughters – Danavia and Helsinge – had not set the track alight, her firstborn a non-winner and her second being unraced due to injury.
The bay yearling’s breeders, Lee Fleming and Rob Crabtree, were not overly optimistic when they sent the youngster into Moody’s care. But it proved an astute move. Not only would Magnus grow into an outstanding sprinter, winning Sydney’s Group 1 Galaxy Stakes and more than $1 million in prize money, he would also become Peter Moody’s first international runner, a
horse good enough to walk onto the track at Royal Ascot in 2007 and take his place in the King’s Stand Stakes. There, he ran third, finishing behind another Aussie interloper, Lee Freedman’s zippy Miss Andretti. A year later, Magnus finished second in the Group 1 KrisFlyer International Sprint in Singapore, behind an even better Australian sprinter, Takeover Target.
Training Magnus was an invaluable learning experience for the now Melbourne-based Moody. And as his young sire-to-be retired to a promising career at stud in north-eastern Victoria, the trainer’s already healthy respect for his family tree was about to magnify beyond anyone’s imagination.
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As Moody Racing’s achievements on the track grew, the outfit expanded beyond the capacity of its original premises, and the Moody family, too, needed to find a home. Renting in Caulfield was practical, but Sarah Moody remembers being keen to buy in the area – until she started looking at house prices ‘and nearly died’.
Sarah did a lot of ‘scouting’ on her own because her husband was so busy. ‘Well, I was still very involved with the riding and I had a young family, so I knew nobody,’ she recalls. ‘But I suppose that’s when you just throw yourself into the business and your kids. And that’s what I did. I was riding trackwork, I was working in the office, and the kids were young and I met a few people, a few of the parents at school … [but] it was tough.’
At the suggestion of fellow trainer Mick Price, the Moodys eventually looked at a 25-acre farm near Price’s home in Belgrave, about 35 kilometres east of the city. ‘We were looking for five acres for the kids to have a pony, pretty much,’ Sarah says, ‘and this place came up.’ The gently undulating land appealed to them. ‘We didn’t even look through the house,’ according to Sarah. ‘We fell in love with the landscape; I suppose we had dreams of making it into something special.’
