Out of the shadow of Phar Lap

Both Legions of their time.















There are two horses now in Australian racing history, writes Andrew Stevenson. But with three Melbourne Cups to her name, Makybe Diva stands alone.

'Go out and find the smallest child here because that child might be the only person who lives long enough to see something like this again. None of us will." Something like this.
Makybe Diva's trainer, Lee Freedman, was not the only one who struggled to do justice to the scenes at Flemington yesterday, played out under baking sunshine and before a crowd of 106,479.

Win a Melbourne Cup and you'll never forget it; win two and people will remember your horse's name for years; win three and no one else will ever forget it.

Makybe Diva toyed with the field, made a mockery of the topweight of 58 kilograms, then stormed to an unprecedented third Cup victory with an ease that made the other runners look as if they belonged in a maiden handicap. She carried the weight of the nation effortlessly and lightened bookmakers of many millions of dollars.

"She's the second Phar Lap," yelled her exultant jockey, Glen Boss, on his victory lap.
Makybe Diva won the $5 million race by 1-1/4 lengths from On A Jeune. The New Zealander Xcellent finished third, a half length further back.

Punters thundered their appreciation, even those whose pockets were stuffed with losing betting stubs. Just to have been there was return enough.

And then, when the story could not get any better, Makybe Diva's owner, Tony Santic, wrote a stunning epilogue. In the mounting yard, with the adulation almost tangible, Santic looked at Freedman and two minds met as one: "It's over."

The mare a nation had fallen in love with would race no more.

When Santic got around to telling the crowd, they roared even louder. "To ask anything more of this wonderful mare would not be fair," he announced before calling three cheers for the Diva. The hip-hip hoorays rang in farewell, an old-fashioned thank-you on a day in which Australia's past and its present melded seamlessly together.

The race, born in the heady days of the gold rush, struck a chord in a horse-loving nation. Now, perfectly, a Croatian-born fisherman had beaten the rest of the world to claim this most astounding victory. All this with a horse he once tried to sell. Luck's a fortune and, more than $14 million later, it beggars belief no one wanted to buy Makybe Diva.

The mare herself, flanks sleek and dry, stuck her head in a bucket of water and slaked her thirst. Racing 3200 metres is hard on a horse but it's easy to think Makybe Diva will miss this.
Racing will miss her. Only very occasionally does a horse stretch the imagination like she's done. Only rarely does a horse earn fame beyond the close world of jockeys, trainers and die-hard race fans.

Comparisons are odious but yesterday the Diva not only raced past 23 other well-credentialled thoroughbreds, she left several past champions behind her. Tulloch, Gunsynd and Kingston Town, champions all, can't compare with Makybe Diva - certainly not in the public's mind, where the only race that counts is the Melbourne Cup.

In 30 years' time, when kids are taught the lore of the land at breakfast on the first Tuesday in November, only two names will be guaranteed a place at the table. Forget 30 years, says Dominic Beirne, once one of Australia's biggest bookmakers. "In 200 years time there'll still only be two horses, Phar Lap and Makybe Diva," he said.

Freedman and Boss think so too. Before yesterday's race, and despite two Melbourne Cups and a Cox Plate, Freedman still placed Kingston Town above the Diva in his personal pantheon. Not any more. "She's the greatest horse that I've seen."

Freedman wrote his name in the record books, placing it alongside Etienne de Mestre, who won with Archer in 1861, backed up the following year and finished his career with five victories. Freedman, too, has five, and a powerful ambition to keep on winning them. First though, he's got to find another Makybe Diva.

Boss, who cried, as he does every time he wins a Melbourne Cup, takes his place as the only rider to win three Cups straight. The lucky bugger who sits on top was happy to say goodbye to a horse who'd given him memories he would take to his grave. "She's just given me such incredible joy."

When he rode her back into the mounting yard he launched himself, jockey-style into the arms of Santic. The night before the pair had shared a drink and talked of destiny. After 10 days of playing push-me, pull-you (would she run? will the track be soft enough?) victory started to appear inevitable.

Of course, it wasn't. There wouldn't be the punt if the sure thing existed. But, even before the race, as the skittish horses struggled for composure in their final presentation to the crowd, there were signs. "Anyone who looked at her … there was only one horse you'd back, all the others were falling apart," said Freedman. Boss, too, felt victory at his side, with fate appearing in the shape of a locomotive. "The destiny thing: it's a runaway train, you can't stop it," he recalled, nostrils still flared with the smell of victory. The race kept unfolding in his mind 100 metres before it actually happened. Although he's been hailed as a hero himself, he knew who had won the money. "It felt like I could have let go of the reins and she would have done it," he explained.

In a normal year in Melbourne there's two cups. One's the race that owners, trainers and jockeys desperately want to win; the second is the day-long bacchanal more than 100,000 want to enjoy. On a day so hot, it fried the bare-backed girls basted in fake tan and sunscreen and broiled men in suits, the two were as one. One seven-year-old bay mare had made sure of that.

Before the euphoria settles, prick yourself and pat yourself on the back for braving the heat.

Three times. History is made every minute; minor stars writ large in the desperation to create champions. But this was something to tell the grandchildren about.

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