Flemington racecourse is such a wonderous place. It’s sheer size, ridiculously impossible real estate value, that is if anyone tried to rebuild one like it so close to a big city again, that vista back to Melbourne, unparalleled unless there are votes for Chantilly and that madman’s palace or Happy Valley on a Wednesday night.
Flemington is also as much loaded with history, a statue to Bart, one for Makybe Diva, Phar Lap out the front, deference not easily won, as it also moves with the modern times, and always a place that can move you.
It is not to be a funeral home or cemetery, and though it is littered with many heroes of ghost’s past, both equine and human – it was indeed a moving place to celebrate the life of jockey Dean Holland – it still filled vividly with that memory of him scooting up the straight to win the Newmarket on In Secret only a few weeks ago.
Fellow jockeys, legendary ones, like Harry White, 78, and Roy Higgins, 75 have been farewelled there, so Dean Holland was in good company, but sadly at only 34.
When Les Carlyon delivered the eulogy for Higgs he noted: “The racecourse, as beautiful as it is, is not consecrated ground, not in the accepted religious sense,” he said.
“But for many of us it becomes close.”
And so, it was in that sense today, as family, close friends, even racing fans, paid tribute to the boy who was born small 5lb 11oz (2.58kg), and rose to follow his father Darren into the saddle and ride some 1118 winners, but the greater success was with his wife Lucy Camplin, and their four children, Harley, Luca, Frankie and Lily.
He was two floors up at Flemington, getting there if you are persuaded by religious intervention, in the Atrium where some 1000 were along with those at Morphettville as well as those on-line around the world.
And with a special touch on such a day, Lily was christened at Flemington racecourse only hours before her father’s funeral, Apache Cat and that familiar face overlooking the service.
And Dean had finally got around to a wedding date with Lucy, planned for December, Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up” to be their song, yes bittersweet to be sure.
Mraz would never have to worry about Holland’s singing ability, but he could perform, that version of The Gambler as part of Tanby’s Adelaide Cup success, brilliantly morphing into Kenny Rogers iconic original as the service proved that, but then Mraz never rode a winner at Ceduna (or anywhere) did he? Kenny is safe too.
We learned about young Dean, via his shattered parents, through Des O’Keeffe, always there for many a jockey over such a long tenure.
He was always going to be an “outside boy”, Des said on their behalf of Darren and Belinda, their boy had a “special affinity with all sorts of animals, both large and small.”
Karate first, and despite early promise of a gold medallist at Sturt Primary, a mismatch with bigger lads of the same age, would see him transition to baseball at age 7, gun catcher for the Goodwood Indians, because he was too small to hit ‘em far, bunt and run was his stock in trade.
Like every Aussie kid, it was on to footy, AFL in South Australia and numerous “courageous awards’ for Plympton, well especially giving away 20-30kg in weight secured them despite the skerrick’s of ability. Tennis - tried that too, but a McEnroe like temperament would put a line through a career with the racquet, broken, smashed ones at that.
So, at 14, without barely patting a horse: “I’ve decided I’m go in to be a jockey.”
It was Will Clarken and his father Robert that gave him a start, Craig Curtis teaching him to ride a pony at Morphettville before a school-based apprentice with Jon O’Connor.
And you can imagine the looks that a 16-year-old pint size Holland got driving with his Ls and Ps before he got to Ceduna to ride a second (Wanderribby) on debut before Brookman gave him that first winner a month or so later.
You know that David Hayes poached him to Lindsay Park, and that in turn to Melbourne, but he finished his time with Steve Richards at Flemington and outriding his claim at 20.
Doors opening. Korea, a stint there as his parents sought some drive and direction to Dean’s younger partying ways not that taking on a 700kg bull in a riding contest at Whittlesea was part of the plan, and its Winx odds you guess the result.
Not so meeting English flight attendant, Lucy, when he was just 28. She was visiting Australia, Holland chased her back to the UK and that’s how the love story starts.
“We saw Dean at his very best with Lucy and the kids,” they said through O’Keeffe.
“Proud and happy, he was thriving being ‘dad’, he was striving to achieve that fine balance between family and racing.
“It seemed the more success he was having on the track, made it easier to achieve the same at home.”
His Uncle Scott, (Uncle Snotty to Dean and the kids) said: “nothing will replace our Dean.”
“He was an awesome cheeky boy growing up, happy and smiling, active, fearless, loved sport, but being small in size never hindered his natural talent.”
Kirstie Arnel is Dean’s older Sister, described a ”larrikin” - he gave her a Toyota Camry as a present and who would “take the piss out of mum and dad.”
“I wasn’t the biggest follower in your racing career, but so proud of your achievements. It will be a shock to never see you on the television again or hear your voice, but I hope you are listening and can hear me.”
Lisa Stevens is the tower of strength of Racing Victoria’s support team. She spoke on behalf of Lucy’s parents.
She described through their words a man of “downright cheek,” but “obvious sincere love for our Lucy”.
She shared a story “that required much alcoholic ingestion” when Dean visited the UK, nervous for asking Lucy’s hand in marriage, that to be done at Tower Bridge in London.
He missed the mark, a café, “not there”, but the answer was still yes.
James Winks became Holland’s mentor, more than just an old rival, a friend and partner.
You know the Hong Kong story of application for a licence at his passing.
You know the In Secret story: “Point and shoot, trust yourself.” Those were Winks’ simple words of advice. “He made me a better coach.”
A fitting service ended with Dean taken around that special place that is Flemington one more time from a guard of honour.
So, it was somewhat eerily appropriate that it was starter Corey Mallyon along with the Donald barrier attendants of the day of the fatal fall, Darren Browell, Dane Smith, Tom Conlan and Paul Kelly that legged up the coffin to the Tobin Brothers hearse to send Holland on a final touching lap of Flemington.
And when it got to around 240 yards from the post - he went past the oldest piece of Flemington history – that’s the distance marker (yes, it is still there), it dates back to the time (around 1860) of King Charles II, to note that horse’s that couldn’t go the “distance’ were disqualified.
Sadly, Dean has no distance left to run. For us, we must keep striving for the line.
The final poem was: When Tomorrow Starts Without Me - attributed to David Romano.
It closes with:
"So, when tomorrow starts without me
Don’t think we’re far apart
For every time you think of me
I’m right here in your heart.”
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