Moods

by Helen Thomas

  ‘Just a little horseman thing like that – the fact that their bladder seems to make a difference to them,’ the doyen of Caulfield remarks with a quick shake of his head. It reminded Smerdon of an observation made 40 years earlier by an old country trainer in Adelaide. ‘A lot of people, those things would be happening around them and they wouldn’t know. [Moody] obviously picks up on those things. He talks about his time with Tommy Smith, but he obviously looks and he learns.

  ‘His ability to see things and take it in is just quite remarkable. So I guess what I’m saying at the end of it all [is] it’s not by chance that he’s ended up as successful as he is. It’s by real intellect and talent – and having a go.’

  *

  As these three formidable characters forged their working relationship, Peter Moody was steadily building his team of horses and implementing his stable system with a staff that was also growing, by necessity. He had his foreman Tony Haydon in place, but he also oversaw a tribe of stablehands who mucked out the boxes morning and night, prepared the meals the horses required twice a day, and helped walk and saddle them up before and after trackwork each day.

  This was an army of sorts, and one that spent a lot of time working in the dark and against the elements. Cold or hot, weekdays and weekends alike, this routine was executed with the precision of a military drill, as the horses were prepared for the lucrative theatre of the racetrack. Yet having successful horses usually increases a stable’s workload. And most operations don’t get easier to run, they actually become more complex.

  The basic statistics of Moody’s initial years in Melbourne tell a tale of hard toil. From 455 runners in the 2002–03 racing season, the stable posted 56 winners and 128 place-getters, for an overall tally of $1.74 million in prize money. The next year, their winning number more than doubled, to 121, from 607 runners; Moody Racing’s ‘winning purse’ now hovered at $3.5 million.

  In 2005–06, 767 Moody Racing runners netted $5.37 million, through 172 wins; they topped the $6 million mark in prize money the following year. The stable was well on its way to becoming one of Victoria’s high achievers, with a winning strike rate of 18 per cent. Peter and Sarah’s dream was alive, their business plan more than holding up in one of the most competitive racing markets in the country.

  What the trainer needed now was a good horse. Not necessarily a champion, but an outstanding performer who might win the hearts of racing fans around Australia and boost Moody’s profile as well as his stable’s fortunes.

  Just one good horse. That would be enough; no trainer hopes for more. Naturally, Peter Moody was about to get two. But not before a year of unexpected challenge.

  9

  FOR MANY IN Peter Moody’s predicament, a celebratory night out on the town might have held some appeal – a chance to mark their achievements of the past 12 months, rather than dwelling on misfortunes. Socialising with peers who understood what it was like to work with horses under duress – far better than racing fans, journalists or lawmakers ever could – might have been precisely what the doctor ordered.

  Yet it seemed to fill the trainer with a strange dread. Not only did he not attend the Victorian Racehorse of the Year ceremony in August 2015. In typical fashion, he didn’t pull his punches when declining the invitation. ‘I have been invited, but I will not be going because Racing Victoria has decided that my involvement with this sport is prejudicial to the image of racing,’ he told the press. ‘So I see no good coming from someone from Racing Victoria potentially giving me an award that could further embarrass them, and the sport. I just don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interests to attend. I think it’s better for me to stay away.’ Two months later, in October, he would stick to his guns and refuse to attend the national industry awards, held at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. He had made his feelings clear.

  Later in August, however, a more taciturn trainer refused to speak on camera to Channel 78 after winning the first race on Memsie Stakes day, citing the pressure he was under over the cobalt saga. Melbourne’s tight-knit racing media was polarised, old-fashioned newspaper battlelines highlighted. A blunt opinion piece by veteran turf reporter Patrick Bartley – headed ‘Cobalt: Is Peter Moody on the brink of unravelling?’ – provided a war map of media alliances, as well as of unfolding events.

  ‘Whichever way [Moody] manouvres the question remains: how did Lidari arrive at Flemington with double the threshold levels of cobalt in his system?’ Bartley asked. ‘For the third time this week, Moody threatened to resign from racing. He’s threatened to move to Darwin, talked about a pub in Queensland and, for all we know, by Saturday night he may be looking at a convenience store in Papua New Guinea.

  ‘He has 110 of some of the most expensive racehorses in Australia housed at his Caulfield base. His winning strike-rate has not altered, nor has his client base deserted him since Lidari’s swab earlier this year. But his trusting media contingency was shown at their very best this week, as they gave Moody more oxygen to explain why the world is against him.’

  Despite his decision to sit out the racing industry’s annual awards night on 8 October, the trainer harboured some hope that one of his horses might be crowned the nation’s best. Dissident, an imposing six-year-old stallion, had won his fair share of Group 1 events, and had just retired to what looked a promising second career at stud in the Hunter Valley. ‘I hope the owners are rewarded, that the horse is rewarded,’ Moody said. ‘[Dissident] won three Group 1 races, and he was drug-tested every time he raced. So there can be no suggestion that he didn’t win fair and square.’

  The trainer had paid $220,000 for him as a yearling and was proud he had lived up to his expectations, though he fretted that the horse had not been given due respect for his achievements on the track. The exploits of Black Caviar, it seemed, still overshadowed her stablemate’s performace. ‘He won his first start and he won his last start,’ the trainer pointed out. This was no small feat for any horse.

  But in this age of ‘sport 24/7’, Dissident was no modern equine hero, his career not ‘big’ enough to propel his name from the sports pages into the general news. Nevertheless, the trainer was correct: he was an impressive performer. In Moody’s absence, the horse was crowned Racehorse of the Year, polling 119 votes – a decisive victory over runner-up Brazen Beau, who garnered 58. For good measure, he was also named Champion Sprinter, which was icing on the cake for his new stud connections as well as for Peter Moody’s own résumé.

  Dissident’s victory was the fifth time a horse nurtured at his stable had taken home the title, with Typhoon Tracy having won in 2010 and Black Caviar three times in previous years. It was the horseman’s fifth victory in six years, in fact; good friend Mick Price had broken his run the year before, with Lankan Rupee. The lead-up to the award also reignited discussion in racing circles about whether Moody should be included in the national Racing Hall of Fame.

  Yet this was obviously not the year for such an honour. Talk of his achievements underscored the gulf that existed between the industry’s authorities and its participants. And that sheen of cobalt blue hovered over even the biggest races.

  But the ugliest incident of this grim spring in Melbourne came on the night of 25 October, when shots were fired at the front of Terry Bailey’s home in Templestowe. At the end of a busy Cox Plate weekend, Bailey, his wife and their two teenage daughters were – fortunately – in the back yard when bullets, reportedly from a semi-automatic weapon, tore through the screen door. Neighbours told journalists the chief steward ran onto the street with a baseball bat, but the shooter was gone.

  ‘If they want to find you, they’ll find you,’ Terry Bailey said at a media conference the next day. But he declared he was ‘absolutely committed’ to pursuing his role as chief steward, making clear he believed the attack was linked to his work. ‘I don’t have any other interests in life, so I presume this is the common denominator … We’ve had similar incidents over the years, we’re accustomed to it.’

  But
even this usually implacable crusader was shaken by the knowledge that his family could have been hurt, or worse, in this violent attack. ‘There’s no need for that,’ he said, with remarkable restraint. ‘It’s below the belt.’ Months later, he revealed that the front door had been open behind the flyscreen door when the shots were fired. ‘The missus said, “Stay put, everybody,” and we did for a few mintues, and the rest is history – half a dozen rounds through the front door.’ (At time of writing, police are still investigating the shooting.)

  *

  Weeks later, two of the Cobalt Five would argue their cases before the RAD Board. Father-and-son team Lee and Shannon Hope faced the board first, charged with administering a prohibited substance to three horses for the purpose of affecting races. Windy Citi Bear, Best Suggestion and Choose had returned cobalt readings over the legal threshold in 2014. The Hopes eventually entered guilty pleas, conceding that they had given the horses cobalt, but denied they had been trying to manipulate the results of races.

  The board did not accept their argument and found them both guilty, calling their evidence unsatisfactory. ‘It beggars belief that [Shannon Hope] would not have known that cobalt was present in many of the supplements and medications, and that he would not have appreciated that cobalt had the potential to become a problem,’ the board stated. Lee Hope was also criticised for the cobalt in his horse; the judgement described the pair as ‘not credible witnesses’.

  The RAD Board handed down tough penalties: Lee Hope was disqualified for three years, and Shannon Hope for five. It was not yet summer, and they would appeal their sentences before the Victorian Civil and Administrative Appeals tribunal. But the wind was harsh up on the hill at Flemington.

  Melbourne Cup–winning trainer Mark Kavanagh and his Flemington colleague Danny O’Brien were the next to face similar charges at Racing Victoria’s headquarters, along with vet Tom Brennan. Five of their horses had returned cobalt readings higher than legal – one of Kavanagh’s and four of O’Brien’s – and they too had been issued serious administration charges. They were found guilty and given lengthy bans – three and four years, respectively. They too would appeal their sentences to VCAT in the new year.

  By now it was the end of November; at this rate, Peter Moody would be lucky to see the board before Christmas. As it turned out, he scraped in just 11 days ahead of that date. His initial hearing was set for Monday, 14 December – nearly 15 months after the alleged offence.

  He could not get there quickly enough.

  10

  BY THE SPRING of 2007, Peter Moody was being hailed as a force to be reckoned with, a bush prince looking to become an urban king. Third on the Victorian training premiership table, he continued to travel in search of contests his horses could win as they strengthened their confidence and helped their connections pay their bills. Yet one connection in particular was proving a thorn in Moody’s side, as were Victoria’s beleaguered racing officials.

  In the weeks leading up to the biggest races on the Australian racing calendar, the industry had been struggling with an outbreak of equine influenza (EI) across Queensland and New South Wales. The debilitating illness prevented hundreds of horses from travelling interstate; even those who had arrived from overseas were not allowed to take part in races. EI played havoc with racing and breeding plans nationwide, as horses were ordered to ‘stand still’ until given an official all clear.

  The last thing the sport needed at this critical moment was another drama, especially one linked to Melbourne’s ‘gangland wars’. But that’s exactly what it got when stewards could not be convinced of the ownership of one of the trainer’s rising stars.

  Who did Pillar of Hercules really belong to? That was the central question police and racing authorities were asking, unpersuaded by the names on the gifted colt’s registration papers.

  While Sarah Moody owned 25 per cent, the lion’s share was registered to an Irene Meletsis, but authorities feared that drug tsar Tony Mokbel’s older brother, Horty, was involved in that 75 per cent stake. Both the Mokbel brothers were in jail at the time – Tony in Athens, where he was fighting extradition proceedings, and Horty in Melbourne, where he faced charges of trafficking $40 million worth of amphetamines.

  The brothers had longstanding links with Victorian horse racing circles, running the notorious betting group known as the Tracksuit Gang through the 1990s. They had also owned a number of horses, but were now ‘warned off’ racetracks and banned from owning thoroughbreds.

  The matter came to a head when Peter Moody was issued a ‘stand still’ notice of his own by Victoria’s Supreme Court, and Pillar of Hercules was not permitted to race again until the confusion about his ownership was cleared up. In an affidavit tendered in court, police alleged that the purchase of the three-year-old as a $475,000 yearling had been at least partly financed by Horty Mokbel, who they argued was the true owner of Ms Meletsis’ share as part of a money-laundering scheme.

  To back this up, the affidavit claimed that police had intercepted phone and text messages between Mokbel and Moody discussing the horse; for good measure, they added that Ms Meletsis knew nothing about horses and was not a racegoer. The affidavit also claimed that the trainer continued to rent stables near Caulfield Racecourse from Horty Mokbel’s wife. This was certainly an unwanted twist in the Moody tale, and the irony that his first Melbourne landlord now cast a very long shadow was not lost on the trainer.

  Despite the allegations made in the Supreme Court, Racing Victoria – perhaps in a nod of good faith to the stable – accepted Pillar of Hercules’ nomination in the Group 1 Mackinnon Stakes, optimistic the matter could be resolved in time. The best way of doing this, once and for all, was deemed to be by public auction.

  The city’s august daily paper, the Age, had fun with the concept, running a mock advertisement on its front page that read: ‘For Sale: Stake in glamour Spring Carnival racehorse. Worth around $1m. New owner must have no crime links. Needs to go 11am Friday. Good chance for Mackinnon Stakes.’

  Not good for racing’s image, this scenario was potentially even worse for Peter Moody’s growing reputation as a trainer. Colourful characters had long played their part on the Aussie turf, but the Mokbels were associated with murder and drug-related mayhem – not exactly a racing ‘romance’.

  Transparency was at the heart of the issue, and it was arranged for the colt to be auctioned as an in-form race horse and potential stallion. Given that Pillar of Hercules was deep into his spring racing preparation, it was decided the best place to hold the sale was at Caulfield Racecourse, not far from Moody’s stable and the colt’s own stall.

  So, at 11 a.m. sharp on the eve of the 2007 Victoria Derby, auctioneer Peter Heagney stepped through a tray of disinfectant – an EI security precaution – and gathered the 100-strong crowd around him, ready to take bids. Moody was there, looking unusually pensive in a wide-brimmed hat; so too were chief steward Des Gleeson and a plainclothes police photographer snapping shots of participants, many of them high-profile ‘racing identities’.

  ‘This is a very unusual event, a history-making event,’ the respected agent called out to the throng. Apparently, the last race horse to be auctioned alone had been Shannon, back in 1947. For the record, Heagney made it clear that 100 per cent of Pillar of Hercules was being sold on this day.

  A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd as the young horse finally arrived, looking somewhat perplexed by this change in his daily routine. He and a mate started to walk in circles in a saddling yard as bidding started. Robbie Waterhouse made the first play at $1.1 million.

  In serious opposition was Dean Watt, manager of Dynamic Syndications, and the two quickly tried to outdo each other, with Watt finally getting the nod with a bid of $1.8 million. As Pillar of Hercules was led back to his stall, a new question had to be answered: who would train him for his new owners? There were three or four horsemen, and one famous horsewoman, said to be under consideration.

  Through it all
, Peter Moody kept his poker face in place. He didn’t want to lose the horse to a competitor – that much was clear. Then again, he and his wife had just made a tidy profit by selling their 25 per cent share in the colt. No matter what happened next, they had something to show for the tribulation.

  Watt decided to leave the three-year-old with the stable, so he could line up in the Mackinnon the next afternoon from the yard he knew. Moody predicted that the horse was ready to run the race of his life at Flemington. ‘I think he’s a hell of a horse,’ he told the press.

  But there was more to come: who actually owned him now? Dean Watt had been the winning bidder, but who was in the new syndicate he quickly put together? As the trainer dared take a breath, Watt did his best to reassure the authorities and media that all was well.

  ‘There are no problems with the bona fides,’ he said. ‘A major client of mine, Bill Vlahos, will take the majority share, while I am delighted to announce Sarah Moody will have an equity position in the horse as well.’ Vlahos, it transpired, would pick up $1.2 million of this tab, essentially taking over the 75 per cent share that had been in question.

  Sarah Moody, at the time describing the circumstances surrounding the sale as causing ‘turmoil’, understood she would be a 10 per cent shareholder in the horse. Watt kept a share, as did another Dynamic Syndication client, Joe Zeaiter. The stewards seemed happy with this outcome, with Des Gleeson declaring the colt could now race again. ‘I’ve got no problems with his bona fides,’ the chief steward said.

  ‘It is a very good buy at that price,’ Dean Watt said. ‘It’s hard to get quality horses like this at the best of times. We could go to the sales and buy a yearling at the same price and take our chances on how it will end up at the track; with this horse, we know what we are dealing with. If he can win the Mackinnon Stakes, then his value would skyrocket immediately to between $8 and $10 million as a stallion prospect.’