FROM THE ARCHIVE – THE DEMON SWEENEY

By Floyd Amphlett

In my near 30 years at the Star, I have been lucky enough to meet almost every one of my greyhound heroes –

many of whom are no longer around.

If the following article – originally written for the Star in 1991 (I think) comes across as self indulgent, forgive me and go read something else. But I know that there are a huge number of you out there (once many thousands) who also view Paddy Sweeney as one of the all-time greats of this industry. I still get occasional calls from the great man – the original ‘rebel with a cause’ – and feel humble that he fancies putting the world to rights with a lowly hack.

For all of you who know him, and some not lucky enough to have met him, the great Paddy. . . .

Floyd Amphlett

 

No clock, no phone, no dogs, no money – retired. The notice is stuck to the counter in Paddy Sweeney’s surgery.

Unlike the pictures of former patients Scurlogue Champ, Mollifriend Lucky, Whisper Wishes, Knockash Rover, John Silver, Cricket Bunny, Westpark Mustard, Fearless Action and Upland Tiger, it is complete fiction. (Paddy would probably argue that ‘No Money’ isn’t).

In fact, the whole subject of his retirement stirs the sport’s most controversial vet into the strong Irish oratory usually reserved for NGRC stewards and penny-pinching promoters.

“I should have had my retirement sorted by now,” says Sweeney, “but another vet moved to within five miles of my door and took most of my trade. I have wanted to retire for many years and I formulated a plan to sell the practice to another vet. Because it is such a specialised field – I only work with greyhounds – I wanted my successor to work with me for a year.

“During that time I was going to teach him as much as I could about greyhounds. Each of my clients would have been introduced to him and he would have had access to the records, slides and X-rays that I have stored over the years.

“The next thing I know a certain vet has suddenly arrived from Ireland and set up in business five miles away specialising in greyhounds.

“Suddenly my practice lost a great deal of value and the thing folded up. Our profession has a code of ethics that say a vet should contact all other vets when he is new to an area. That never happened.”

But needless to say, Sweeney’s retirement plans have been put on the back burner. Indeed had he not announced his retirement, Britain’s best known greyhound vet would certainly be fully booked.

He still gives consultations to some old clients two or three days a week and goes horse racing whenever possible. But Paddy’s main intention in retirement is to write a book about his work and experiences in the period since 1946 when he first arrived in Britain.

Sweeney is seldom out of the headlines, yet there is so little known about the charismatic Irishman with a passion for dogs. For many years he has bred Jack Russell and Bull Terriers. He owns two very rare Jack Russell pups – one completely fawn, the other black.

For many years he staged whippet and Jack Russell racing on the 280 yard gallop behind his surgery on a Sunday. All gate money – sometimes as much as a thousand pounds in a single afternoon – went to children’s charities.

But most people know Sweeney as the man whose surgery comes under a spotlight in the later stages of the English Derby. He is also known for his outspoken view on the sport and its administration.

Surprisingly, that was also originally fired in the English Derby. The spark that has smouldered ever since was lit in the notorious 1968 competition.

Sweeney said: “My old friend John Bassett trained Camira Flash and prior to the 68 Derby, the GRA bought the dog from him – as I recall, John had seen a couple of gambles go astray and was a bit on his uppers.

“Anyway, he was running in the Derby and of course had then been put into the name of Prince Philip. I never missed a Derby heat in those days and was at White City for the quarter finals.

“Not Flashing had been drawn against Shady Parachute in his quarter final heat and as he went around the third bend he definitely looked sideways at her.

“He didn’t fight, but I saw his owner Frank Cavian after the race and said: “I think you’d better keep an eye on him, Frank. If he’s not careful he’ll get his card marked’ I offered him £1,500 for the dog, thinking that a good dog man like Joe Booth would win a lot of races with him on the flaps. Frank refused but I was obviously watching him closely in the semis.

“I can remember that semi-final as clear as day. Not Flashing ran absolutely straight. There was an announcement that there was a photo for third but I knew that Not Flashing had qualified for the Final. Frank Cavian had made the right decision.

“The dogs were paraded for the next race. It wasn’t until they were being put into the traps that it was announced that Not Flashing had been disqualified and Camira Flash promoted to third.

“There was the biggest uproar you have ever heard. The booing lasted right through the next race. Of course, in the final Camira Flash flew from the traps and the booing started before he reached the first bend.

“I felt sorry for Camira Flash’s trainer, poor old Randy Singleton. The crowd were swearing and throwing things at him though it was hardly his fault. The GRA got the wind up and cancelled the presentation.

“Not Flashing went back to Ireland and won 12 of his next 14 races. I was so angry with what had happened, though, that I set up the Greyhound Council of Great Britain and within six months had 500 members.

 

While Sweeney is content to take the flak for his views, he has always shown a reluctance to lead others into the

barrage. When asked about some of the Derby dogs he has handled, the outspoken Sweeney becomes evasive.

“I would rather not talk about the individual dogs.”

Why not?

Drugs

“If my name is mentioned in connection with any dog, it gets treated in an unfortunate way to the detriment of the trainer.

“There has always been some inference that I would give a greyhound drugs to improve his performance. I would prescribe any drug within the rules to help a trainer get the best out of his dog.

“That is my duty to the owner of the dog. If I give a dog a blood test and find something amiss, I would prescribe the appropriate treatment.

“I would never give the dog anything that would cause it harm. Even today I still get the occasional call from some dog man who wants a tablet to stop his dog. I tell them not to waste my time. I’m a vet, for God’s sake.

“I have to be careful what I say. For example, a couple of years ago, between the semis and the final of the Derby, I got a call from the Sporting Life. They had heard I was treating two Derby finalists.

“It was true, I saw Catsrock Rocket, who had a bad wrist and Cooladine Style, who had a worsening tendon injury.

“Every time they phoned I told the girls to say that I was out. By the early evening the girls and gone and like an idiot I answered the phone. It was the Life. ”I couldn’t tell them a pack of lies, so without naming the dogs, I admitted that I had seen two of the finalists and technically speaking they were lame.

“The next day there was this huge story that there should be only four runners in the final. It was hardly likely to endear me to the Wimbledon racing manager or the track vet.”

Sweeney refuses point blank to admit that his skills may have influenced the result of any Derby final. But by the dubious method of fly fishing with questions, he will sometimes take the bait.

I see Bruce Prole has written to the Sporting Life suggesting that Indian Joe was not injured before the 1980

Derby final, but merely had cramp.

“Well he may have cramped but poor Joe had a rare neurogenic condition disorder in his near hind which was still affecting his gait until the day he died. He did and was good enough to win, but he was probably way below his best.”

I understand you had Whisper Wishes visit the surgery in the week before he won the 84 Derby,

“Yes, in fact he was here for a good deal of the previous winter and

John Duffy and Charlie Coyle sent a nice present for myself and my girls when he won. ‘Ben’ was a loveable character. I would not say he had real top pace but I thought he had the temperament and the motivation to make his mark as a sire and I sent a bitch to him as soon as he was retired. I also feel that apart from Hit The Lid, he probably had more intelligence than any other greyhound I have ever handled.”

Barbara Tompkins, in her book, mentioned that you helped her with I’m Slippy during the ’83 Derby.

“Yes, of course, she had been a regular client of mine for about 30 years and I well remember her bringing Slippy without an appointment one day after the first round. She opened the van and I was shocked to see blood all over his head and neck.

“I couldn’t see the source but she said he had an accident and his ear was ripped all along its length. She was frantic with worry that he would not be able to run in the next round on Saturday.

“I dropped what I was doing, put the dog under anaesthetic and stitched the skin of the ear on sides of the cartilage.

“I used very fine sutures and on the third day when the wound was starting to heal, you could hardly see them. The dog ran and finished second to qualify. “

What about Geoff de Mulder, one of your oldest customers?

“Yes, I have seen a lot of hounds for the de Mulder family over 40 years. They have had many successes but deserved them all.

“They have invested heavily in breeding and purchasing and have given their dogs the very best of everything. They have brought some great dogs here and in my opinion – Jimsun the ’74 Derby winner was the best.

“I stood him here when he retired to stud. He threw Sarah’s Bunny and some other good ones but if he had gone back to Ireland he would have had more opportunity.

“Some said he was not 100 per cent. What they meant was he knew the difference between a live hare and a dummy. Jimsun had courage galore.

“I knew a few dogs who got to Derby finals with a fracture of that odd little bone at the back of the wrist, but he was the only one I knew who got there and won.”