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MAX CROCKETT.
Max Crockett is a legend right throughout the sport of kings--
an eye for conformation and a knowledge that it brings.
He was trusted as a saviour when a horse needed care--
there were none considered equal and few we might compare.
The wild eye of a yearling looked beyond the round yard gate
as words were softly spoken to console its nervous state.
Max offered up his right hand for the youngster's sense of smell
and gently with his left hand, he stroked the neck as well.
He was leaning on the rail of the training track each day
with a keen eye on the times of the chestnut and the bay,
as they dashed from the furlong in the misty morning air,
the filly running freely on the outside of the mare.
The Stetson was his trademark with wide brim and rounded crown--
Which one would he be wearing? I guessed the black, white or brown.
You'd see him every race day, no mistake I must declare,
as he shared his racing wisdom, while he sat upon his chair.
When he gave his instructions to the jockey listening in,
he explained simple tactics that would help the horse to win
like “Hold the whip and shake it but don't hit him with it son
and keep it in your left hand, get him out and make him run.”
He assessed form with owners and discussed with them 'the go',
to start next week in Sydney, if the weight advised was low,
for he knew how to place them when ready for the run
and he liked to train a winner and to celebrate with fun.
Max Crockett was a legend right throughout the sport of kings,
possessed of ability, that kind understanding brings.
He was trusted as a trainer and many would defer
to the wisdom he imparted—Vale Mr Crockett, Sir.
