An old grey still has a kick One for the good guys: Nicholas Hall returns on Linton after winning the Stradbroke. Photo: Tertius Pickard During my recent absence Linton triumphed in the Stradbroke at Eagle Farm, with part-owner Martin Talty watching the action via Sky Channel in Dubai luxury. This, of course, was like going from a Centennial Park pony stall to the best situation Sheikh Mohammed has to offer his favourite stallion. "Once a familiar face on the domestic racecourse as the protege of Australian race-writing doyen Max Presnell and associate of present-day South China Morning Post writer Alan Aitken, Talty left his native shores more than a dozen years ago to take up a post with the Emirates Racing Authority," wrote Peter Falconer in Racing News. These days he is manager of the international department of the Dubai Racing Club. Linton was purchased by Stefan Friborg, a Swedish-born energy tycoon who races the grey with Talty and his brothers, Mick and Peter. Friborg is described by Talty as a "hugely successful businessman with extensive thoroughbred breeding interests worldwide, but most specifically in Brazil." He is a great supporter of racing around the world as evidenced by having group 1 wins now in seven countries and four different continents. Not many owners can boast such a feat. Talty went international as a victim to what was then the breeze of redundancy that has grown to a typhoon. At the time, in my opinion, it was a disaster considering his ability and potential. But the push proved a major career move. Now, in my dotage, I often compare proteges with Trevor Sykes, who has no equal as a financial journalist and paella chef. We were in London in the swinging '60s, he thriving, me starving. However, Sykes, at the time, learnt a grim lesson about good things, be they racehorse or mountain of gold. Sykes had the hots for Mill House, a great 'chaser. Big and fluent, Mill House left all in his wake. Sykes went to Cheltenham to lay odds-on ("better than bank interest") and capitalise on a safe investment. Alas Mill House ran into Arkle, probably the greatest, which provided a result worse than Poseidon. Subsequently during his stints at the top in Sydney and Melbourne, Sykes has produced a fine bevy of graduates who went on to become company directors, politicians and newspaper editors. He even had a headliner whose constant companion abroad was an oxygen tank. None, though, could emulate the feat of Craig Young, who took the redundancy way last year. Young now drives a Central Coast bus after a career as one of the best in his field. How many of yours could do that, Sykesy? Perhaps the jewel in my crown was John Holloway, who came on the radar running a racing game of chance for copy boys and desperates at The Sun, the defunct Sydney afternoon newspaper. Holloway had graduated from the Balmain billiard rooms and under my guidance was given his first taste of culture: Spartacus, starring Kirk Douglas. Even the ice-creams at half-time were on my account. Still an active racing writer and thoroughbred breeding authority, Holloway made director of the Sydney Turf Club in a membership vote beating John Messara, well known in the world of Sykes. The late Tom Kennedy, a chairman of the STC, regarded Holloway as one of the best directors in a field that included the outstanding legal and business brains. Holloway was one of the first granted life membership of the new Australian Turf Club. No doubt Rod Dufficy, brother of Ron, became the most affluent protege. He left The Sydney Morning Herald for Hong Kong with little more than a thong and a galosher, returning with the equivalent of a Roller and all the necessary adornments. Going back, Glenn Robbins, who gave Jim Cassidy the "Pumper" title and co-founded the highly popular Racenet internet site, came on to The Sun team and so, too, Stephen Brassel. Later Brassel became the PR force behind the glory years of the Swans. And what about Grant Vandenberg? He now has a thriving PR operation with clients including Russell Crowe and Alan Jones. Vandenberg had a major drawback for an afternoon newspaper racing writer with an 8am deadline: he couldn't get out of bed. Yet the excuses indicated flair. Like the time he had to chase his grandmother's dog, allegedly running loose up Maroubra Bay Road. Maybe a mild whistle around dawn at the front gate would have been believable, but breaking into a gallop up Maroubra Bay Road? Alan Aitken, aka "Hats" and "Curly," had a wonderful turf mind evidenced by his remarkable winning streak for the Punter's Podium at Randwick. Alas he didn't cop adversity well. "Racing is stuffed," he would declare, towing into the office a trolley full of law books in an endeavour to make the bar of an unfamiliar kind to him. Obviously my advice stood them in good stead. Good losers die broke and if you've got to take the knock (can't settle), accept the hiding, no boots, but ask for time to pay as long as they'll let you bet next Saturday.