Qatar Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe

Qatar Prix de L’Arc de Triomphe where Fillies, Mares and Colts all gather together to strut their stuff — and we are not even talking about the horses! No matter what your sex — but, uno momento ‘hold your horses,’ the pre-​requisite for this very fine 2,400 metre race — the richest race in Europe and the second richest in the world to the Japan Cup — where form and stamina is a must — in the crowds and on the track, alike, makes certain that you are indeed a thoroughbred, and that’s where it all counts. It’s all in the breeding, no matter what great Uncle Robespierre thought.
It is one of the worlds great thoroughbred meetings on the racing calendar with a 4 Million Euro purse up for grabs. A monumental event with it’s namesake taken from one of the greatest and most stoic monuments in Paris itself. And, this was certainly one great meeting I wasn’t going to miss, not even if Sarkozy decided to shed all his clothes and run barefoot — as well as naked — down the Avenue des Champs Elysees singing at the top of his lungs, «I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts.» No Siree, I’ve had more than my fair share of mortar fire, constant aeroplane flights, cramped sleeping arrangements, train trips and mad taxi drivers in the last 6 weeks of journalistic travel to last me a life time — I was here to get the old adrenalin fired up for a different reason, this was going to be one fun filled afternoon!
So, when race day came I certainly made the essential stop-​over, not to mention… wager. Arriving back in Paris just in time from another work related trip to Athens — No, not with worthless Greek Government’s Cheques to gamble with, but decked out in my ‘almost’ finest — Okay, so not quite Audrey Hepburn style, granted, as was depicted in her ‘oh so fine’ My Fair Lady cinematic extravaganza but, it can be said, I graced the track washed and primped to perfection, as were the delightful horses — All ready for this rather divine frisky filly occasion. So, on this fine October day, Sunday the 2^nd to be precise. One found thousands of people like myself — many with over sized hats and stuffed pockets with lots of ready cash (and they say the economy is grim) and wearing every conceivable well known fashion label in Europe — with some outfits probably costing as much as a few of the 1,700 Kilos of horse flesh being saddled up. And, many even better shod than the exquisite and expensive four legged equine beauties.
One just had to take in this quintessentially gorgeous venue for such an end of season climax of supreme French horse racing — breathing in the newly mown hay and the smell of polished saddle cloth — swallowing up the breathtaking view of none other than the artistically, spectacular Longchamp Racecourse or to the seasoned Parisian, Hippodrome de Longchamp itself.
Set in 57 hectares of beautiful landscaped turf tucked between the Seine and the Bois de Boulogne, this absolutely majestic ground, with not one blade of grass out of place, and it’s relentless, naturally sweeping, wide green tracks. No wonder they call horse racing ‘The Sport of Kings.’ On this wonderful race day the place comes alive with colour, embracing all your senses. Only a huge, strong yet elegant creature, along with it’s athletic, diminutive but fearless and brightly decked out jockey, dare grace these luscious grounds, anything else — apart from a few Moulin Rouge Clowns — would surely be sacrilegious and even then, they’d get swallowed up with the vastness of the area. There are 17 racetracks in all here at Longchamps with some of the most intrinsic beauty spots one could ever see in any city, let alone the magnificent City on the Seine — such as the windmill, waterfall, lake and wood.
The race itself did not disappoint, as one witnessed the thunderous pounding of horse’s hooves as well as the emphasised beating of human hearts close by with hands clenched and eager eyes flashing — although, to more than a few thinned out wallets, it surely did. The favourites on the day Aidan O’Brien’s ‘So You Think’ and Alain De Royer-Dupre’s ‘Sarafina’ along with last years winner of the Arc, Sir Michael Stoutes’ ‘WorkForce’ all paled in comparison, a Day Dream to punters it was not. As sure as Aidan O’Brien’s cell phone is forever glued to his ear, Danedream in 5^th gear dashed away from the rest of the prestigious field and hoofed it to the finishing post, leaving every other piece of thoroughbred horse flesh flat-​footed and in panting awe. Thus, the ²⁰⁄₁ German filly romped home to secure her place in the history books, scooping up the prize and the well deserved accolades. Like a thief in the night Danedream left everything else stranded and stunned.
All the ‘Ooh la la’s’ in the world could never accentuate this marvellous vision, it may have been a bookmakers dream come true. But to the adoring crowd and the vision of screwed up losing betting slips tossed on the ground mercilously, it was far more than just a ‘Danedream.’