JOCKEYING FOR POSITION Douglas Whyte on Fulfi l A Wish; opposite, Whyte with horse owner Law Cheuk and trainer John Size
RAIN POURS DOWN FROM THE DUSKY HONG KONG SKY. HUMIDITY ENVELOPS THE CITY. Outside is the last place you’d want to be right now. But the foul conditions do little to dissuade the crowd packed into Happy Valley racecourse, situated in the center of Hong Kong and encircled by high-rises. A turfside food court off ers crispy-skinned ducks that hang by their roasted necks. Punters wearing raincoats or thin windbreakers mingle with Britishaccented bluebloods in a gamblingcrazed environment where everyone seems to have a hunch, a system and pockets full of Hong Kong dollars that might as well be on fi re. Holding a fi stful of soggy betting tickets, railbirding in the rain, I focus on the race in progress. My eyes go directly to Hong Kong’s favorite jockey, Douglas Whyte. Decked out in orange and green silks, jammed up in the middle of a pack that thunders around the fi nal turn, he leans so far forward on his horse that he seems parallel to the beast’s back. Whyte slaps its rump with a well-worn riding crop and tries to move beyond the scrum. In his distinct style, he hustles his horse up the home stretch. He knows all too well that breaking stride on Happy Valley’s incline will result in losing fi ve lengths or more. It’s hard to negotiate the wet and muddy track on a night when not even windshield wipers on his riding goggles would clear his vision. He fi nishes far out of the money, in eighth place, and my chits become worthless. Current performance aside, the 38-year-old Whyte ranks as Hong Kong’s greatest living rider and one of the best in the world. For nine years running, Whyte has won more races per season than any other jockey on the circuit. He holds the Hong Kong record for most career wins and most wins in a single season. In a horse-crazed town, where Hong Kong Jockey Club—the charitable, nonprofi t entity that runs racing—generates 7 percent of the city’s tax revenue, he’s a rock-star athlete with a seven-fi gure income. Considering that horse racing overshadows all other sporting options here, Whyte is Hong Kong’s Kobe Bryant. When out for dinner, Whyte (a tough and superfocused competitor) gets thronged for autographs. In Chineselanguage gossip columns, he’s namechecked like George Clooney. “I’m a public fi gure in Hong Kong, and there is no room for error,” he tells me, referring to how he operates on the track and off . “The public wagers on me whether I have a chance of winning or not.” One result is that he has to be careful about what horses he rides. “I don’t want people losing money just because they’re fans of mine.” That wet night at Happy Valley, Whyte’s killer instinct catches the attention of trackside stewards. During the last race of the evening, he interferes with another jockey as he comes off the rail, and the stewards suspend him from two upcoming meets. Whyte views the sidelining as a cost of doing business in Hong Kong, where racing is viewed as a gentlemanly sport. Nevertheless, Whyte says that being aggressive “is just part of my nature. I can’t not go for it.” early the next morning, Hong Kong’s skies have cleared. Turf action unfolds at Sha Tin Racecourse in the New Territories, a bland suburb that seems a universe away from rollicking Hong Kong proper. Sha Tin serves as the Jockey Club’s other major track and the place where riders train each morning. I spot Whyte breaking in a new horse and wave as he trots by, en route to the practice fi eld, but he’s too focused to notice me. Trainer Caspar Fownes, on whose horse Whyte won the prestigious Hong Kong Derby this year, half-watches the zip-around as he scrolls through text messages on his cell phone. “Dougie is a natural at winning with horses out of bad gates,” says Fownes, referring to the disadvantageous starting positions that all jockeys sometimes have to contend with. “Then, boom, two hundred meters go by and he’s in a great spot. He does his homework and knows which horses will go forward and which lack tactical speed. He recognizes the horses he can weave in front of. Then it’s a matter of doing that in split seconds and, if that doesn’t work, quickly shifting from plan A, to plan B, to plan C.” Whyte, who has a freckled face, tousled hair and a diminutive but muscular body, materializes on our side of the fence. Now riding a bicycle and in a feisty mood, he and his friend Fownes exchange playful verbal jabs. “Maybe I can get some support from you and you can give me a ride one of these days,” Whyte jokes, expressing his hope that Fownes will off er him a horse to race on. “You need to share the love with me a little bit,” Fownes shoots back. “I won the Derby for you,” says Whyte. “What else do you want?” They share a laugh before Whyte turns serious, cursing the timing of his suspension—he and upstart jockey HEMISPHERESMAGAZINE.COM | AUGUST <strong>2010</strong> 77
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