The Canadian Sportsman
Last Call Online
Back To Last Call OnlineSeptember 23, 2009
Two of my favorite Jug memories, strangely, have their roots in Ireland; which is a long way from being a Mecca for harness racing, but in the race-off between which nation produces the most colorful characters, Ireland bests Canada by open lengths.
So it came to pass in September of 2000, when two brothers from Ireland who held the papers to a longshot Jug contender named Mattrick Henry arrived at the fairgrounds in a gleaming white limo and took up residence as the temporary proprietors of a rowdy, rolling pub parked in the line of recreational vehicles behind the log cabin.
The Flanagan brothers, Mark (above, right) and William (above, left), are from Dublin. As such, they are proud patriots, who brought nine countrymen to the Jug that year to cheer on Mattrick Henry and help wave the tricolor green, white and orange banner of their beloved homeland.
Trouble was, there was no flag, which was nothing a little Irish stout and ingenuity couldn’t fix.
When the Flanagan boys noticed flags flying for the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the United Kingdom behind the winner’s circle, they took action. Specifically, they took the right people out for drinks and — naturally — had the British flag removed. The sun rose the next morning on the Irish flag waving proudly where the Union Jack had once been.
News of the Irish invasion soon spread as the Flanagans made their presence felt with a huge trailer adorned with Irish flags and a giant banner proclaiming “the Irish have landed.”
The Flanagans fared much better than Mattrick Henry. The pacer, trained by Canadian Hall of Famer Stew Firlotte, made a break and failed to advance to the second heat.
I check the flagpoles each September and at last glance, the Irish flag was still flying over Delaware.
Firlotte was part of another Irish-Canadian Jug adventure six years later as part-owner of a dog-sized pacer named for a famed Irish golf course.
What Doonbeg lacked in stature — and believe me, I’ve seen bigger Great Danes — he more than made up for with the size of his heart. He came to Delaware in 2006 with a mark of 1:49.3 and over $500,000 on his card and a reputation for a wild-and-woolly finishing kick that made him look like a cartoon character as he churned past horses double his size, his legs moving twice for each of their strides.
That he was conditioned by Firlotte’s former assistant trainer — a man with the Hollywood name James Dean and a nickname even better than that — made the story that much more compelling.
“Friday” was ever-present for the better part of two days as they came to see the pint-sized Canadian invader for themselves; gawkers mostly, figuring they had been handed tall tales about small things.
It was odd how it played out like a movie on perpetual rewind. In a steady stream, they wandered into the Jug Barn, stepped up to the white plastic fence, squinted into his stall, shook their heads in disbelief and then recited the same line as if they had each been handed scripts at the door.
“He really is that small.”
As they turned to leave, many of them were sporting grins and proudly tugging on free hats; white with a bright green shamrock over a single word: “Doonbeg.”
I still have mine in a safe place.
The improbable story landed the colt on the front page of the sports section of The Columbus Dispatch, picture and all, and straight into the hearts of anyone who cheers for the underdog.
That Doonbeg didn’t fare much better than Mattrick Henry in the Jug, is a footnote, really. Fourteen years in to my personal Jug odyssey, I’m incapable of rattling off all the Jug winners I’ve seen off the top of my head. But I know I’ll remember the Flanagan brothers and Doonbeg — who, ironically, now lives and races in Ireland.
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