Meet Kenny
The Country Cup Man
Some people collect stamps.
Some collect football cards.
Kenny collects country race meetings.
If there’s a Country Cup somewhere in Australia…
Chances are Kenny’s already on the road.
Esky packed, thermos full.
Akubra pulled down against the morning sun.
An old notebook sitting on the passenger seat.
And another story waiting somewhere over the next hill.
30 years apart. Same Akubra. Same love of country racing. Same old LandCruiser.
Country Cups Are Home
He’s been traveling Australia’s country racing circuit for years.
Not because he has to… because he simply loves it.
The people, the horses.
The little towns that come alive when raceday rolls around.
Most times Kenny’s happy traveling on his own.
Other times he’ll round up a couple of old mates from the local.
He’s collected a fair crew over the years.
There’s Hydey, Geg, Little Large… and then there’s Box.
Don’t ask where the nicknames came from, nobody can remember.
That’s the funny thing about Aussie nicknames.
Sometimes they make perfect sense, most times they don’t.
You can know a bloke for thirty years and still have no idea what his real name is.
Around the pub, the racecourse or the golf club, nobody thinks twice about it.
They’re simply Hydey......Geg.......Little Large.........Box.
And somehow… everyone knows exactly who you’re talking about.
You'll definitely know why Box is called Box when you meet him.
A tragic, long-suffering Balmain Tigers supporter who’s still convinced next year is their year.
Tommy reckons hope is a wonderful thing…
Especially if you’re a Tigers supporter.
Some people watch races. Kenny watches everything else as well.
Good Mates Make the Best Travelling Companions
Box spent his entire working life as a firefighter and is now counting down the days until retirement.
Whenever Kenny mentions another Country Cup trip, Box only has one condition before climbing into the old LandCruiser.
“Sweet Ken… as long as it’s not too far.”
The funny thing is…Kenny and Box have never quite agreed on what “too far” actually means.
Wherever Kenny pulls up, someone usually wanders over.
“G’day Kenny… where’s the bride? Not travelling with you this time, mate?” Kenny just grins.
“The bride? She’s probably off somewhere around the world with her niece.”
That’s usually when somebody else joins in.
“Thelma and Louise…” that’s been their nickname for years.
Nobody’s even sure who came up with it anymore, Kenny just laughs.
“Truth be known… we’ve all landed on our feet.”
The bride enjoys her adventures, Kenny enjoys his.
And when everyone gets home…
There’s another story waiting to be told.
Tommy reckons that’s not a bad way to live.
Kenny reckons every good racing story starts with a handshake… and usually ends with a cold drink.
Kenny’s Notebook
Meanwhile…
Kenny’s idea of luxury is finding a country pub…
A comfortable chair… A cold beer…
And someone willing to tell him a racing story.
Kenny reckons he’s about as flash as a dusty sheep paddock… and he’s perfectly happy with that.
While others study the form guide…
Kenny watches people.
He notices the strapper.
The nervous owner.
The quiet trainer.
His notebook fills with names…
Stories… And memories......Some he’ll happily tell.
Others… He’ll keep forever.
Because they belong to the people who trusted him.
Some stories he'll happily tell. Others he'll quietly keep
Kenny’s Whisper
People often ask Kenny if he’s found the winner.
He’ll usually smile, have another look at the track, and quietly say…
“I reckon I have.”
The funny thing is… Kenny always seems to have the winner.
At least… Right up until they jump.
One last walk. One last look. Kenny reckons every track whispers ........… if you know how to listen.