Everyone in racing feels like they know Max Presnell. From newspapers to radio and television, Max has been a part of the sport for longer than nearly anyone in Australia.
He is part of the fabric of racing, as much as his beloved Randwick, Rosehill and Flemington. Now, after nearly 70 years, Max has filed his last column for the Sydney Morning Herald, but he will never be lost to racing.
The old saying goes that you should never meet your heroes; it implies that you will be disappointed. Max was a hero to me, transfixed by racing as I was from a young age, and he remains so today.
Those who wrote about the sport in those days were as much the stars as the Kingston Towns and Manikatos. They brought it to life. There were brief glimpses of Saturday’s fair from Sydney on TV on Sunday morning, where Max would tell you where it went wrong.
Knowing him these days, it would almost always have been him talking from his own pocket.
Some 20 years later, I would get to work with Max Presnell, a man surely to be revered but who in reality has been one of the best influences on my career and also on myself as a man.
His style is unique. He always has time for punters when they approach him, unless he wants to have a bet himself. His nature made everyone welcome.
But my first real meeting with the great man didn’t go well after covering a Caulfield Cup for the Illawarra Mercury. I was invited to dine with Max. I wanted to impress and suggested a Melbourne restaurant sight unseen but highly recommended.
Max had been known as “Society Max” in some circles and, after, having a little luck in the Caulfield Cup, he wanted to celebrate with a good bottle of wine.
Source Agencies