IT’S now almost two years since the seminal legend of southern hemisphere harness racing, Gavin Lang, left us far too soon. 

In an increasingly secular society, fewer folks than ever sense the hope there is a Heaven. 

Still, imagine there is. 

There’s Gav, arriving at those precious Pearly Gates, reluctantly processing paperwork, partially apologising for past indiscretions.

Then, with his afterlife privileges approved, the greatest reinsman of all time takes a quiet breath. 

He knows what the immediate future entails. 

Catch-ups, some of the kindred kind with family and friends, some with deceased yet still disgruntled owners, and others with kindly but painfully punishing coat-tuggers. 

Even in Heaven, these things take time. 

Finally, let’s say 22 months after standing in line at the Nirvana nightclub, Gav wants a laugh. 

God, you see, in his infinite wisdom, grants every veritable VIP with eight, or maybe 10 drink cards. 

Only they don’t buy drinks; they buy influence over Earth. 

Gav’s already used a few; subliminally messaging loved ones like his beautiful wife Meagan and those he relished most.

He’s ready to burn one at this point. 

Why not play the trots? 

Last weekend, the Iceman played the trots. 

First, he thought he’d give perhaps his greatest young admirer, Nathan Jack, a sweet return to racing. 

Nath has burnt some bridges and betrayed himself at times; but Gav gets him – and also reckons a Group 1 win will launch his comeback bid. 

With Mach Dan’s Newcastle Mile triumph handled, Heaven’s harness Lord has a quick kip and turns his attention to Saturday night. 

Somewhat staggeringly, the great man only triumphed in two Terang Cups – 35 years apart if you don’t mind. 

Now he reckons another of his acolytes, Leroy Sutton, should win his own Terang Cup. 

Hey, Gav thinks, why not add some spice by giving the young firebrand his special moment with a horse I used to train, a horse called Like A Wildfire. 

Sure, he’s trained by Emma Stewart and Clayton Tonkin these days, and sure we had our blues. But they, and Clayton’s old man Pete, gave me some of my most magical moments. 

At this point, Gav is on tilt. 

With God busy printing membership cards, he takes the liberty of having Leroy drive the horse like him. 

Shortcuts all the way, swagger steer for luck.


Quietly grinning at his own work, Gav pushes the envelope one step further – let’s look after Greg. 

Despite further questions and queries from the small group of punters that also made it to Valhalla, Gav cuts clear just long enough to oversee Menangle’s Chariots of Fire. 

Like Nathan, like Leroy, Greg Sugars – aka the Candyman – was raised following The Iceman religion. 

He loved Gav. 

Gav appreciated and cared for him. 

For all his unbelievable talent, G Sugars isn’t G Lang. 

Gav drove for miracles that he could manufacture. 

Greg is all pragmatic poise and staggering awareness. 

Not Saturday night. 

Sure, The Candyman played smart with Better Eclipse in the Group 1 Chariots of Fire , as he always does, sticking to the inside lane and saving up his sprint. 

That final 400m though, that was pure Gav. 


Don’t expect another sign from the Iceman anytime soon. 

He ripped through some tickets with his wild weekend antics. 

Just as he did in life, however, the towering GOAT of Australasian pacing played his hand with purpose. 

And, for that, for Gav, we are eternally grateful.