Domo, Darts & Dogs…and good company

I never really thought I’d end up at the dog races, but 2023 has already proven an interesting year. Not everyone can say they have been to Sydney’s Wentworth Park to watch the dogs on a Wednesday night. And, granted, many of you are no doubt quite comfortable with not being able to make that claim. As was I, up until a few weeks ago. But now that I number myself among those who have been to Wentworth Park, on a Wednesday night, to watch the dogs, I find myself less ashamed than I might have previously thought! Here’s how it unfolded.

Renae and I had planned a trip to Sydney to see family, capitalising on some cheap flight offers that were going around. However, things didn’t quite go to plan when a three-and-a-half day Domo training session, also in Sydney, dropped in on the same week. Domo is a data management and visualisation tool that I work on fairly extensively at my job, and wasn’t something that could be moved or missed. Thankfully, Renae still opted to come along, taking the opportunity to catch up with a close friend while I was in the course.

With the course starting on the Tuesday and our original flights booked for Wednesday, I shifted my flight to Sunday so that I could still fit in some family catch ups prior to the training. But on Tuesday it was time to head into the office and get stuck into the course. The last time I managed to get into the Sydney office was back in 2019, with COVID interrupting trips planned since then, so it was fantastic catching up with everyone face to face there and, in particular, getting to spend a whole bunch of time with the RSA team, many of whom were joining me in the training session. The first day of training went well, and I managed a quick beer with some of the team that night before heading back to my parents place for the evening.

The electronic dartboards were pretty cool and held the darts really well. And kept score, which left more time for grabbing that next beer! Photo by vedanti

I headed back into the office on Wednesday, with plans to stay in the city for the next two nights. Renae arrived in Sydney that morning, but was spending the night with a friend up in the Blue Mountains. The training session went well, and after work a few of us went to a seedy pub across the road for a round of darts; another new experience for me. These were electronic dart machines with plastic tipped darts (seedy pub + metal tipped darts = ambulance). It was pretty cool and we played a handful of rounds in which I didn’t disgrace myself. A number of beers were drunk, a zombie apocalypse game of darts was played where all players worked together to achieve scores that would slay the latest zombie attacker, and then I said my goodbyes as I was meeting my older brother for dinner.

After a good Korean meal, another beer and some Korean Soju, and some good conversation with my elder brother, I found myself back on the streets of Sydney, heading for my hotel which I was yet to check into. I decided to call my work colleagues on the off-chance they were still battling zombies somewhere, and that’s when I found the unexpected news that they were down at Wentworth Park, and urging me to join them.

Now, I can’t say the prospect was overly enticing. Nothing to do with the company; but more to do with the location. I don’t have any real interest in betting, and unlike a sporting match, I don’t consider the races a particular exciting event. Plus it was a Wednesday night with the third day of training the next day, and I figured Wentworth Park was a little far. However, the pitch was strong, promising an electric atmosphere of at least 30,000 or so punters, with some more beers waiting for me. I gave a non-committal answer that I would consider it after checking in.

Once in the room I looked up Wentworth Park and was surprised to see it wasn’t that far away; a walkable 1.8km from my hotel. So I figured, what the hell, I’d head along. I’d been to the horses a few times when I was younger and the atmosphere was usually good even if my interest in placing a bet was low. So I left the room and started the walk down to Darling Harbour and then over to Pyrmont.

This was pretty similar to the view I got walking into Wentworth Park. Only the people there were not sitting as close to each other. Photo by Magda Ehlers

On the promise of an electric atmosphere, I was soon to be bitterly disappointed. As I neared the venue, I could see the lights but could not hear much in the way of cheering. Crickets were the predominant sound, as well as traffic from the motorways I had just walked under. Making my way down towards the stadium entrance, I wondered if I was too late and they had packed up already. The carpark was less than full and there were few people about. Walking into the stadium only confirmed that belief; there were maybe about thirty people sitting in the stands that could have housed thousands. I had been deceived.

However, what it lacked in electric atmosphere, my work mates made up for with enthusiasm. When I found them (it wasn’t too hard, on the account of the lack of anything resembling a crowd), they were quite surprised (not sure if any had laid a bet on me turning up, but if they had, it probably would have paid quite well!) but definitely pleased I had made it down. Within seconds I found myself with a beer in front of me, another added a minute later, and soon after that I was handed a form guide so I could pick the dog for the next race.

Needless to say, I didn’t pick a winner, but quickly found that and no one seemed too worried by that. The races rolled around with little pomp or ceremony, and were over very quickly, usually with disappointment as the punters found themselves on another losing hound. But the company was good and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. And on the plus side, when it did all wrap up, there was no line for cabs or Ubers. About five minutes after leaving, we found ourselves back in the city and back in the Civic, ordering more drinks; bourbon, rum and even a couple of Kahlua and milk, for which I was relieved that the pub was fairly empty by that stage and there were few to witness that particular low-point!

I mean, is this an acceptable drink to order a round of at the bard sometime around midnight? Photo by Abdulrhman Alkady

“Domo for just one more day” was definitely sung on the night. Photo by Pixabay

While we were a touch tired the next day, everyone backed up for the third day of training and we had another good session. That night we had a formal dinner with the team, which Renae also came along to; more beers, good food and better company. It ended with a team tradition of heading down to a private Karaoke booth for more drinks and plenty of tunes. I found myself belting out In the End by Linkin Park and Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, amongst a whole bunch of other songs that pretty much everyone sang as loudly as possible. It was an initiation for Renae, who claims she enjoyed herself and hasn’t called things off despite my singing, so I’m notching that up as a win!

Thanks to the RSA team (including honorary members) who put in for the Domo training and then took the time to come out and celebrate as well. In particular, a big shout out to Craig for doing the lion’s share of the organising (of the dogs as well as the team dinner, as I understand). All in all, it was a great week, if a little different to the one that had been planned.

Will I go back to the dogs, you ask? Not for the atmosphere, certainly. But if I find myself in Sydney on a Wednesday night sometime in the future, who knows!