Three minutes, in the Mounting Yard

Flemington’s mounting yard has been the focal point of race day since the VRC’s earliest meetings. Originally located beside the winning post, it was relocated to its current position in the 1920s, expanded to almost double its size in the 1990s, and connected directly to the horse stalls via a tunnel in 2007. The ornate iron arch leading to the track was installed in 1995.

Every race day, it becomes a hub of activity. Horses are brought in before each race like clockwork, emerging from the quiet of the tunnel into a colourful, and, during Cup Week, noisy world. They are paraded by their strappers, who have tended to their every move until this moment. The horses circle the yard, mostly oblivious to the commentators and roaming cameramen, while around them the business of the race builds.

The commentators are reading the horses in real time, reporting on their chances and picking up details the form guide can’t offer: a relaxed head carriage, a fluid walk, a rich coat. For those watching from outside the yard, it is an up-close glimpse of what the experts see before the gates open.

Then there is the conversation between the jockey and the trainer. After the jockeys emerge from their dressing room, there is a quick exchange – last instructions delivered, questions answered, final details checked – before the horse and rider head to the track. The jockeys check their gear and hop lightly into the saddle, all eyes on them. Their silks bring another flash of colour to the yard as the horses move off, led by the clerks of the course – distinctive in their red coats – towards the barriers.

And then, almost as quickly as it filled, the yard empties. Attention shifts to the track as the field jumps from the barriers, leaving only a few people behind to watch and listen. During the Melbourne Cup, that first pass of the post has the crowd in a frenzy, while the connections closest to the horse tend to watch on calmly, as if conserving their own energy will somehow help their horse home.

The tension builds as the field rounds the last bend, intensifying as they pass the clock tower – the landmark Matt Hill never fails to call – until his commentary is drowned out by the crowd.

Then it happens. One horse crosses the line first, and the winning connections erupt. Hugging, jumping, screaming, crying: every emotion is suddenly on display. There is the trainer and their family, the owners and other connections, all caught up in the moment.

But it is the strappers who are worth watching. Nobody in the yard knows the horse the way they do. They have fed it, walked it, travelled with it, and been there for every good morning and bad one.

They have prepared it for this moment, presenting it at its best – coat brushed, gear checked, one last adjustment – before handing it over. Their part is done. What follows is probably the longest three minutes in their career.

Strapper of Half Yours, James Rayner, created the viral moment that the whole world saw. As soon as his horse won, he ran straight to the mounting yard fence, where his children Jobe and Phoebe were waiting.

Rayner had spent six months away from home as travelling foreman for trainers Tony and Calvin McEvoy, caring for Half Yours on the Sunshine Coast as the horse emerged as a genuine Cup contender. His kids had encouraged him to take the role, knowing what the separation meant. When Half Yours hit the line, Rayner pleaded with mounting yard staff to let them in. They did.

It was one of the purest moments in a yard that sees plenty of them. But among the jubilation, there is disappointment too – heads dropping as others realise it wasn’t their time.

A few minutes later, the beaten horses return. The care of the horse comes first, and strappers spring straight back into action, removing saddles, offering water, and leading the horses back to the stalls after a job well done, whatever the result.

The winning horse arrives under the Flemington mounting yard arch last of all, the jockey having enjoyed the walk back past the adoring crowd. Who can forget the image of Stevie Payne proudly leading his sister Michelle back under the arch? Or James McDonald in 2021 on Verry Elleegant, arms and face turned reaching up to the sky in elation?

Suddenly, the yard fills again. Connections flood in; jockey and horse are praised and congratulated. Up to 30 owners per horse are welcome in the mounting yard on race day – for some, a familiar place; for others, the culmination of years spent waiting for a runner at a carnival like this.

The jockey weighs in immediately, in full view of the crowd – the only time weigh-in happens in the mounting yard. Photographers and reporters swarm the rider and trainer, while the strapper quietly gets on with the job: pulling on the winning blanket and checking that the horse has come through healthy and happy.

Then the VRC springs into life, wheeling in a stage for the presentations. Connections crowd the platform, heartfelt thanks are delivered, and hundreds of photographs are taken – images that will soon become part of racing history.

And then, just as quickly, the activity quiets. The next race needs the yard. The stage disappears, the horses will soon return, and the whole process begins again – ready to produce another few minutes of anticipation, tension, heartbreak, or joy.