​I refuse to allow myself to get over-excited by novice chases or hurdlers. Its taken most of my adult life to come to terms with the disappointment of so many potential swans revealing themselves to be workaday geese when they have to step out of junior class to attend the grammar school of the big boys. The list of geese is long, with Goshen the latest to kick me in the nether regions of false hope. More about him later.
In their pomp neither Sprinter Scare nor Altior had need to shovel more coal on the fire as they were so far advanced than their rivals they both won top races without breaking sweat. But the truth is neither of those brilliant horses met such a foe as mighty as Energumene. On Saturday I was, for the first time in his short illustrious career, impressed beyond words with Shishkin.
For the first time, I believe, Nico de Boinville had need to get serious with Shishkin and when push came to shove his mount grasped the bit and scrapped the resolve out of Energumene, just. At no point did I think he would prevail, believing, along with the majority, that Energumene had him all ends up. We were of little faith. Great horses, the truly great horses, can win ugly as well as with sublime majesty, as has been the habit of Henderson’s triumvirate of 2-mile champion chasers. Shishkin isn’t the champion yet, and it is not beyond reason that Energumene might enact his revenge come March, but I doubt if there are many people left who would empty their wallet to back the Irish horse if Shishkin is in opposition.
Why Shishkin is called Shishkin I am not aware but it is a happier and more appropriate name than Energumene, the French word for oddball. He is no oddball, at least not on the racecourse, though oddball is easier to remember and pronounce than the name some oddball Frenchman christened him with.
Paul Townend did the sport a great favour on Saturday. Rarely these days do we see genuine sporting behaviour, yet yards after the finishing line Townend trailed a hand for de Boinville to grasp, offering congratulation to his rival, perhaps while his heart remained clenched in the disbelief of defeat.
And the spectators echoed Townend’s display of sportsmanship, their cheers drowning out Matt Chapman’s interview with the winning jockey and then honouring de Boinville, as did his weighing room colleagues, with a heroes reception. If only the trolls on social media would realise that Nico de Boinville is accepted by his colleagues as a brilliant horseman and a fine human being. He is liked and respected by his peers and no one gives a damn about his lineage.
I doubt if we ever got to know how good Sprinter Sacre and Altior were in their pomp as they raced in isolation, having no worthy opponents. Shishkin has not only got Energumene to worry about, he has Greanateen and Hitman not too far in arrears of him, as well a few good horses hiding in the wings, with Captain Guinness perhaps the best of them. March 16th cannot come quickly enough.
In a comment on YouTube after watching the nominees for the December ride of the month, I asked why the award should always go to a jockeys’ winning ride? I was not being facetious, even if I received the reply ‘well, it is about winning, dah’. Is it, all about winning? Jamie Moore was beyond outstanding on Sunday on the enigmatic monster that is Goshen. How many jockeys would have steered Goshen around Lingfield, let alone to finish within a couple of necks of the winner? How many jockeys would persevere 7-days a week with a horse as intransigent and mystifying? Jamie Moore was magnificent both on and off the horse on Sunday. To Matt Chapman after the race, he admitted to ‘having the hump with the horse’ and yet as soon as the interview was over, he stopped on his way to the weighing room and no doubt a pow-wow with his father, to sign a young lad’s autograph book. The Moore family are a credit to the sport and wonderful people; Goshen owes them and he owes them big-time. The January ride of the month should go to Jamie. It’s not about the winning; it’s about the taking part and going beyond what is humanly possible to persuade a bugger of a horse to cooperate once in a while.

​For horse racing to not only survive but to have the opportunity to thrive every sector of the sport must be offered support. The sport needs Cartmel, Hexham and Taunton every bit as much as it needs Ascot, Cheltenham and Aintree. Equally, every licenced jockey, be he or she amateur, apprentice or termed journeyman, should be allowed the opportunity to either make their mark or to at least earn a fair living while a jockey.
I have written about setting in train a programme throughout the season, flat and National Hunt, that has a race a day, at the very least, (not every meeting, just a race somewhere in the country) restricted to jockeys who up to that week had not ridden a set number of winners in the previous 12-months. I will not labour the point but I do not understand why the Professional Jockeys Association are not more pro-active on an issue which can only increase the earning potential of the majority of its members.
Every racecourse should be encouraged to have a signature race, with funding provided to ensure the survival of such races when sponsors drop-out. The race programme should also ensure every racecourse has at least one Saturday or Sunday race-day or a meeting during a bank holiday to allow racecourses an opportunity of a boost in finance.
I would go as far as to suggest there should be races occasionally in the race programme for trainers with less than thirty-horses and for owners with only one horse in training.
Where the greatest investment should be, though, and the B.H.A. and others should not sit back and leave this to trainers, is acquiring new owners into the sport. Although I continue to maintain that horse racing is, at all levels, a working-class sport, to survive and to thrive the sport must continue to attract people with the excess wealth to invest in thoroughbreds. The big money races have to keep pace with the prizes on offer around the world. The major festivals, flat and National Hunt, should be marketed and promoted in a similar way to Hollywood movies are thrust into the limelight of publicity. The people who invest millions in buying or breeding racehorses to race must have the incentives to continue.
Yet where the most effective push for owners needs to be is in syndicates. Ordinary working people, from the shop-floor to management, will play sports or go to watch sport without any thought of reward but simply for the joy of it. These people are a reservoir of possibility.
For the majority of our sport’s history, the ruling body, the Jockey Club, would not allow ‘just anybody’ to be involved in racehorse ownership. Times have changed. The syndicate can be the game-changer. In Australia, a country where horse racing seems to be thriving, syndicates play a huge part in their success. Syndicates not just own handicappers but the very top horses. And not just twelve or twenty to a syndicate but hundreds upon hundreds involved in a single horse. For the cost of a night in a pub, perhaps less, a man or woman can own a share in a horse good enough to run in a classic or Melbourne Cup. Marketed right, with a sense of purpose, this is the survive and thrive course of action required here.
I can envisage, once the present nonsense is out of the way, companies and businesses offering shares in a racehorse as a way of building team camaraderie, with stable visits, free racecourse attendance, the lure of Epsom, Ascot or Cheltenham on the horizon. And it should become routine for there to be races restricted to syndicate-owned horses, with several big pots throughout the season to keep syndication in the limelight.
In the short-term, syndicate-only races may produce non-competitive and small field races but we must live with the small acorns ethos to allow the idea to flourish. The sport has to evolve. We cling to the public perception of the sport being the playground of the rich and idle, the nobility and the aristocrat, when in truth the opposite is true. This sport is my sport every bit as much as it belongs to the high society of Jockey Club members. What is required now is for the B.H.A. to roll-up their sleeves, stop hiding itself away and actually display a high level of leadership. If the B.H.A. cannot or will not accept the challenge, to reform its constitution, if you like, and allow itself to lead from the front, it has to go, to be replaced by a working-class type of Jockey Club.
Everyone who works within the industry or who supports the industry deserves an even-break.

​Although there must be a huge buzz to training a racehorse to win any race, with a trainer’s first ever winner achieving as a great an adrenaline rush, I imagine, as the trainer who wins the Cheltenham Gold Cup, the buzz, even for those who regularly dine at the top-table, must be paid-for in disappointments and on occasion tragedy. The adage ‘to win a small fortune at horse racing it is advisable to start with a large fortune’ must be true but for the select few.
In his book ‘Training the Racehorse’ Lt-Col P.D. Stewart D.S.O. wrote. ‘The ‘boss’ has harder work, more worry and less thanks for his efforts, especially when he is unsuccessful, which he often maybe through sheer bad luck and from no fault of his own’.
Every trainer from Nicky Henderson and John Gosden to the permit trainer with one-horse and a point-to-pointer can relate to Lt-Col Stewart’s sentiment. Sir Mark Prescott, tongue-in-cheek allayed to sorry experience, said something along the lines of ‘racehorses spend a great deal of their time trying to injure themselves, with their riders seemingly doing their best to aid and abet them.’ Sir Mark put it more eloquently and with more feeling, obviously. Incidentally, I eagerly look forward to his autobiography.
Racehorse trainers work without a safety-net. They are self-employed, their income regulated by the loyalty or whim of their clients and by the wheel of fortune. Their day does not end with the leaving at night of the last employee and every meal can be interrupted by an owner wanting news of his horse. These days it needn’t be an owner as the biggest owners now employ racing managers or at the end of the phone might be a bloodstock agent or journalist. The top trainers may these days employ many assistants and secretarial staff but the buck always stops with the man or woman whose name is on the trainers’ licence. It is always the trainers’ head that is on the block. And apart, except for those lucky enough to be able to afford two-weeks in Barbados to freshen the senses before the run-up to Cheltenham or Royal Ascot, the job is 7-days a week.
Why more than a few racehorse trainers do not suffer mental breakdown each season would mystify Paul McKenna. 
Training the racehorse is not a science, though science is often brought into the equation to help, and sometimes hinder, diagnose and fix medical issues. Training is also not an art. The assistant trainer can pick up dos and do nots but when it is his name on the licence the job comes down to feel, to faith of eye, to an instinct that can only be taught through long experience. Training manuals like the one Lt-Col Stewart published in 1952 can only point the way, to relay experience gained with certain horses, to establish principals that deal with the mechanics of training. There can be no instruction for knowing if a horse will improve for a longer distance, a certain racecourse configuration or when a horse is ready to run for his life. 
The racehorse trainer with 200 horses in his stables might make 200-times the number of mistakes in a season than a trainer with a team of 10 and when you have 200 horses at your command the outside world is less likely to notice errors of judgement. If he or she makes a mess of one horse that is only 1/200th of the string: if the trainer with only 10-horses makes a similar mistake that is 1/10th of his earning capacity thrown to the wind. Trainers, in the main, fly by the seat of their pants.
When Lt-Col Stewart trained he had no artificial gallop, no horse-walker, no equine swimming pool, no hydro treadmills, no veterinary science the equal of the National Health Service, even if it is so very much more expensive to access. It is why a trainer can now say, or boast as I feel it is a subtle form of saying ‘how clever I am’, ‘the horse loves being fresh, he’ll go straight to Cheltenham, Aintree or Royal Ascot, wherever. Back in the day, Neville Crump did not have the same luxuries, nor did Fulke Walwyn or Cecil Boyd-Rochfort or even Noel Murless.
The racehorse has not changed but the way it is trained has, and not necessarily for the betterment of the sport, in my opinion. I am in no way offering up criticism of Paul Nicholls, his record speaks for itself, but as I must give an example, I will use Clan Des Obeaux. Prior to the King George at Kempton this season the horse was reported to be ‘in the form of his life’ and to be fair he looked magnificent in the parade ring, with the trainer stating no fears about the ground. Yet though the horse ran well to finish second, it didn’t win. Would he have won if he had run at Haydock as he had the previous year, when he also didn’t win at Kempton?
All hypothetical, of course. But I do believe if a trainer is lauded a ‘genius’ for winning any race with a horse after a long layoff, they should also suffer criticism when a deliberate policy of ‘he goes well fresh’ does not succeed. This policy or modern-fad is anti-racing and anti-competitive and it is one of the reasons for small fields in big races and perhaps a downturn in racecourse attendance. Trainers have a responsibility to the sport that ultimately pays their bills; it is time some form of persuasion was used to get them to step up to the mark.

​Many aspects of modern life annoy me, some more than others. In the ‘annoying-most’ category are people who go on social media to complain about either I.T.V.’s coverage of our sport or any of the individuals who comprise their team of presenters. When I say ‘social media’ I must admit that I only have personal experience of comments to any racing videos on YouTube, a service I hate and enjoy in almost equal measure. I do not subscribe to any social media platforms. It is my line in the sand.
For the majority of my long-life horse racing has been covered extensively by terrestrial television. As one of my earliest memories is the opening credits of Grandstand, a view of different sports shown through the rotating lens of an early television camera, though I can only recall the part showing a flat race at Ascot. It is as if, through that single vista, I became cognizant of a world outside of the housing estate where I was born and lived my life. 
When in your formative years you play football and cricket with your friends and peers but your abiding interest is a sport that those around you could not perceive let alone understand, it sort of sets you up for life as someone forever looking in rather than being central to a social whirl. I was different, and it always has been so. That was me; as a young teenager I could recite the last fifty Derby winners, whereas now I struggle to remember last season’s Derby winner, as well as the last fifty or more Grand National winners. It was my party-piece, not that anyone had the knowledge to dispute the names and order I recited.
Coming from a Bristol housing estate, my exposure to horse racing came through a screen, courtesy of Peter O’Sullevan and Clive Graham and not personal acquaintance with the flesh and blood of any kind of horse, let alone a sleek thoroughbred. I owe the abiding passion of my entire adult life to the television coverage of horse racing by the B.B.C. How lucky was I?
As with the majority, I suspect, when I.T.V. won the contract to become the sport’s new terrestrial provider, I was concerned. Channel 4 had done an excellent job covering our sport, even if the loss of John Francome was never overcome. But then who could replace a man as knowledgeable and intelligent as Francome? I watched the inaugural ‘Morning Show’ with trepidation but by its end I was happy that the sport was in safe hands. That remains my verdict to this day.
It is why I get annoyed when people think others would be interested in their view of individual presenters. Channel 4 never found another John Francome but I.T.V. has his equal in Ruby Walsh, a man to listen to, to not interrupt, to believe in. As indomitable and admirable as a commentator and communicator as he was a jockey. He is outstanding, as would be his sister Katie if only I.T.V. could acquire her services. The one element lacking in I.T.V.’s squad is a retired female jockey.
There is no one on the presenters roster who I dislike, some fulfil certain roles better than others and that is only to be expected. The newer female presenters are becoming more and more proficient as they gain experience and settle into the team. It is an advantage during the flat season to have the wife of a leading jockey as she can provide an individual perspective to the sport. I do, though, miss Hayley Turner and for me, perhaps not others, though I can’t think why, she lights up the screen with her presence. Unlike Emma Spencer, who though knowledgeable and attractive, was at times used by Channel 4 as an eyecatcher, Francesca Cumani possesses not only a natural elegance that transcends the fashion that clothes her but also a wealth of international racing experience.
On that first ‘Morning Show’ it was obvious that Oli Bell was fully aware of the responsibility he and I.T.V. carried and since then Ed Chamberlain has striven to demonstrate the sport in all its hues. Chamberlain is an enthusiast, as is the irreplaceable Luke Harvey, and that is what is required to engage the non-racing viewer. I have a long association with the sport and consequently I try not to get irritated when in an effort to explain the nuances of the sport to the floating viewer, I am ‘talked down to’. I get it. It has to be done. It is perhaps why my enjoyment of an afternoon’s racing is always enhanced by Ruby’s presence. He wouldn’t lower himself to be anything other than spot-on with his analysis, his comments. He is the educator.
I lament nothing from the old days of racing coverage. Not even Peter O’Sullevan as all modern-day commentators are better than he ever was. Nostalgia may insist that this cannot be so but a little research will tell you different. O’Sullevan taught his pupils too well.
We must thank our lucky stars that for whatever hard-nosed reason horse racing has been a staple of sports coverage for the whole of my life. I just hope that for the duration of my life I can enjoy coverage of the sport on t.v. and that I.T.V. will remain at the helm.

​This Friday, Saturday and Sunday, Lingfield stage the inaugural Winter Million meeting. The Saturday is flat racing, Friday and Sunday will be National Hunt. While Arc should be congratulated and encouraged for the advanced prize-money on offer over the 3-days and I hope the racing public fill the racecourse to bursting point, it has to be asked if racecourse owners should be allowed to parachute a meeting into the racing calendar without discussion, with no forethought to how it will impact on long-standing races before and after its own meeting.
Given the debate on whether Britain should have its own version of the Dublin Racing Festival, an innovation deemed a major driver in Irish domination of the Cheltenham Festival in recent years, though its favour is now tempered by trainers’ universal criticism of ground conditions at Leopardstown, it could be argued that if discussed with the B.H.A. a more favourable date could have been provided, with the Winter Million morphing into, in time, the British Winter Festival or at least part of it.
Remember, there are plans afoot to cut-back the number of condition chases and hurdles in the future to force trainers’ hand to run their better horses against each other in the established top races. The greatest beneficiary of this move, though he will be its greatest critic, will be Nicky Henderson, a man whose firepower frightens opposition into allowing his good young horses easy races that teach them very little. Chantry House is a prime example, whose inexperience of competitive racing was his undoing at Kempton in the King George.
If the Cotswold Chase and Denman Chase were usually over-subscribed, rather than only ever attracting four, five or six-runners per renewal, the conditions chase to be staged this weekend at Lingfield would be most welcome. But it now means that the same number of horses will be spread over three-races rather than two and that will be unhelpful to the cause for more competitive racing.
Don’t get me wrong. Lingfield deserve a top-quality meeting. Since the inception of all-weather racing, the reputation of the course has diminished in the same way as its Derby and Oaks trials, even though Lingfield has a similar configuration as Epsom. Lingfield and Arc’s other all-weather courses, if not yet this season, often ride to the rescue of the betting shops when flood, frost, snow or fog prevent other courses from racing. And the injection of prize-money over the 3 proposed days of the Winter Million is a godsend for a sport in dire need of new financial avenues.
I say ‘proposed’ 3-days as the nights in South-East England are about to get frosty and though the Saturday is safe, the 2-days of jump racing must be under threat of abandonment. I hope not. The sport does need this meeting to go ahead; to be successful. What is also needed is for Lingfield and the B.H.A. to sit down to see if in the future the Winter Million could play a part in a Britain’s version of the Dublin Racing Festival.
Although I am more in favour of Cheltenham’s Trials Day being Britain’s answer to the D.R.F., with the day extended to 8-races, with every race a trial for one of the major races at the Festival, I am influenced by the idea of a second-day, as Leopardstown is a two-day meeting, being staged at Lingfield. The racecourse deserves a day in the sun. The Winter Million does not need to be staged over 3-days. In fact, by staging a flat meeting on the Saturday of the Trials Day at Cheltenham, followed by a National Hunt meeting on the Sunday, this would meet their own criteria, as well as benefitting the sport, to greater effect than what is to happen this weekend. In some ways the Winter Million comes across as a bit of a maverick event, as welcome as it is.
And my proposal, a big day of all-weather racing on the day of Trials Day, would allow that Saturday an important meeting if, God forbid, the weather intervened at Cheltenham. Also, given how flexible all-weather can be, if Cheltenham were to be abandoned, is it not possible for the meeting to be transferred to Lingfield, with the flat meeting postponed until the Monday?
There is great potential in the Winter Million but for it to thrive, for it to be the engine that powers the sport forward, it needs to be integrated into the race programme where it will be most valuable to Lingfield and horse racing. The Cotswold and Denman Chases are important races, they must not be undermined by this innovation. The Racing Industry should not become a business run on similar lines to supermarkets. It has to be a ‘one for all, all for one’ ethos. ‘Jaw, jaw, is better than war, war’,’ as one of the sport’s former most famous owner said of another conflict.

​I doubt if there are as many ‘Guv’nors’ as there once were. I suspect trainers nowadays are more likely to be referred to by their Christian names or as ‘The Boss’. The late Gordon W. Richards was referred to by his staff as ‘Boss’ and I suspect his son is spoken of similarly. Of course, there was a time when the ranks of trainers held a great number of ex-Army officers who could not bear to part with their military title and there were a multitude of Captains and Majors, most of whom were more capable of imposing discipline than training racehorses – with exceptional exceptions, of course.
Noel Murless was referred to by his staff, it seems, as ‘The Guv’nor’. I make the assumption as Tim Fitzgeorge-Parker titles his biography of Sir Noel Murless, as he became, ‘The Guv’nor’. It is a racing book of its time. The disappointment of the book is that though it runs to 248 pages, only 151 of those pages are dedicated to the racehorse trainer himself, with over 90-pages used for a comprehensive record of Murless’ winners from 1935 to his retirement in 1976. I suspect, though I may be incorrect, that the author was commissioned to write a 250-page detailed study of Murless’ career and though Sir Noel started the project with the enthusiasm of someone rightly honoured, he grew weary of the project and the author was forced to pad out his manuscript with the racing record of a trainer who during my formative years was the John Gosden of his day.
Sir Noel Murless was the foremost trainer in Britain for the majority of his career and remains a legend to this day. It was his emphatic belief that four greats bestrode his life, Abernant, Crepello, Petite Etoile and Gordon Richards. The last name on the list demonstrates that the Murless training career took in a good proportion of the careers of both Gordon Richards and Lester Piggott, with Murless, though he defended Piggott with fierce loyalty whenever Lester got into trouble with the stewards, believing Richards was the true great of the two.
His first winner as a trainer was ridden by an even earlier great jockey of the flat, Charlie Smirke, a rider more in the mould of Lester than Gordon, having also served a long ban from the sport, his lasting 3-years. On September 2nd Murless trained Rubin Wood, owned by Mr.J.T. Rogers to win the Lee Plate at Lanark, with a first prize of £103. It was one of 63 winners for Smirke, though not notable enough to be worthy of a mention in his autobiography. If only he knew he had set a young trainer off on what was to become a glorious training career.
Rubin Wood was the only winner for Murless in 1935 and he didn’t manage to surpass the total in 1936, with the success of Outlaw at Ayr on the June 27nd being the only highlight. His career picked up afterwards, though, and what is noticeable is that though he only managed 4, 7, and 9-winners in the succeeding years his winners went on to win again and again. Sea Fever won twice in 37, once in 38 and twice again in 39. Second Pop won once in 37, three-times in 38 and once again in 39.
It wasn’t until 1946 that Murless began to be noticed, notching 34 winners, only 6 short of his career total to that point, mainly handicaps but increasingly at the top racecourses, Liverpool, York, Epsom, Doncaster and Newmarket. By 1948 the big owner/breeders were becoming his clients, Colonel Hornung, the Macdonald-Buchanan’s, J.A. Dewar, Giles Loder and more importantly The Queen and the man who rode all but two of his winners in 1948 was Gordon Richards. When you are attracting the top owner/breeders and the greatest jockey it can be said you have arrived at the top table. In 1948 Murless won the Dewhurst with Major Macdonald-Buchanan’s Royal Forest, ridden by Richards.
The photographs in the biography just skims the total of wonderful horses Murless trained in his career. Carrozza, the Queen’s Oaks winner in 1957, Crepello, Petite Etoile, St.Paddy, Pinturischio, the potential Derby winner nobbled by unscrupulous ‘bookmakers’, Aurelius, Royal Palace, Hopeful Venture, Aunt Edith, Fleet, Sucaryl, Caegwrle, Connaught, Welsh Pageant, Lupe, Altesse Royale, Owen Dudley, Mysterious, and the list goes on.
‘The Guv’nor’ is a tribute to Sir Noel Murless more than it is a biography. There is an attempt at displaying the man’s humour, though it falls flat as the anecdote, the only anecdote as I recall, is the sort where you had to be there to appreciate the humour. Anyone who wishes to possess a library incorporating all the great trainers down the decades must have this book as Murless was undoubtedly one of the greats of his profession. It is not, though, a work of distinction and I can’t help but reflect that the career of Murless deserved better. Whether the man deserved better I cannot possibly know from what is preserved within the covers of ‘The Guv’nor’.
I have read extensively during my life. Nowadays, though my interests are varied, I keep my literary intake to daily editions of the Racing Post and racing books old and modern. Occasionally I have the impression on finishing a biography that the story of the book, the gathering of the printed word and the relationship between author and subject, may have revealed more, would have provided a more interesting narrative, than the story actually told. This book may be such an illustration. 

​We must all cross our fingers and, if possible, our toes, and hope – it would help if the religious might also pray on a daily basis – that our anticipation and excitement for the great duals that lay in store for us during those life-enhancing four-days in March meet our expectations. The racing will, as always, hearten the soul and insulate the viewer for a short while against the evils of the world; as it always does. Cheltenham never fails to deliver, even, when as last year, it took place in an atmosphere reminiscent of a ghost town. 
The date today is January 16th, 5.20 in the morning, if you must know. The Cheltenham National Hunt Festival is not scheduled to start until March 15th. And I use the word ‘scheduled’ for fear of losing another Festival, perhaps not to Covid, that is all but played out, but to an unseasonal monsoon, an outbreak of beriberi disease or invasion of locusts, Russians, Chinese or flesh-eating aliens. Since we had the Grand National removed from our lives in 2020 and crowds from the Festival, January 1st to the Cheltenham roar on the Tuesday has become, at least for me, the season not of snow, ice and fog but the season to worry over the possibility of Cheltenham abandonment.
Fingers crossed one of the great clashes receives its promised rehearsal this coming Saturday when Shishkin and Energumene are due to lock horns at Ascot. Hopefully both will turn up, run to their best, with one of them having a legitimate excuse for not winning and with all to play for come the second-day of the Festival. And if Chacon Pour Soi returns to his best form and for once performs to his best on these shores, we could have a 2-mile Champion Chase to match the days of Viking Flagship and others when three-horses hurtle toward the last fence each with a genuine shout of winning.
Though the consensus is Honeysuckle is home and hosed for the Champion Hurdle, I wouldn’t now be so cocksure. It would be foolish to tip against her, especially with the unfair advantage of receiving 7Ibs from horses she is clearly superior to, but Willie Mullins has slipped an ace on to the table in the form of Appreciate It. He may be Champion Hurdle bound by default, with injury scuppering the start of his chase adventure, but he might be capable of accelerating alongside Honeysuckle when she sets off for the winning post.
The race my anticipation is greatest for is whatever the 3-mile novice chase is now called. (My ire is boiling on the almost annual change of title for some our sport’s most iconic and important races.) Galopin Des Champs versus Bravemansgame. I suspect the appearance of these two horses will scare away the opposition but what the heck! Wednesday March 16th might be the day two great steeplechasers first clashed. It is rare for two staying novice chasers to display flawless jumping combined with boundless stamina. My biggest fear for these two is not anything happening that prevents their participation at the Festival but Willie Mullins opting for the shorter distanced novice chase. (Whatever that is called nowadays!) No two novice chasers have impressed me equally in the same season and though my colours are tied to the Ditcheat mast, I hope that whatever the 3-mile novice chase is now titled, it is the first of many mouth-watering duals between these two horses over the coming seasons.
This might be the years of duals at the Festival, with the Stayers Hurdle looking a showdown between Klassical Dream and Flooring Porter. And I am sure the drama of sporting theatre will serve-up many other nip and tuck duals up the famous Cheltenham hill.
Although she may well take home the Gold Cup this season, and perhaps the Champion Hurdle, oh, and there’s Bob Olinger – what if he turned-up in whatever the 3-mile novice chase is now called, that’s a salivating thought, isn’t it? – just don’t expect the Rachael factor to be a leading factor this spring. I believe that bubble has burst. Which is simply reality. Blackmore had a rub of the green, all tuned to her superb ability as a jockey, that no jockey before or since could ever hope to achieve. It is the same with Henry de Bromhead. When someone achieves what he achieved last season, stuff never achieved before in National Hunt history, the following season, and perhaps seasons, can only ever be an anti-climax. And with Paul Townend back in action, and perhaps come March Robbie Power, Blackmore will have less fire-power. Bob Olinger, for instance, is owned by Robcour and when he is not injured, which is not very often of late, Robbie Power gets first dibs at their horses.
I doubt if Rachael Blackmore will ever fade from our sport. Already she is a legend, a woman who when the next history of National Hunt is written, albeit if that is in fifty-years hence, she will command a chapter to herself and her record-breaking achievements. She may be the ‘reluctant heroine’ of her time but her thoughts will be sought long after retirement from race-riding. Her star, though, will surely wane over the coming months and years and I suspect she will welcome the step back from the limelight. Though of course she has A Plus Tard, Honeysuckle and perhaps Bob Olinger to anticipate come March and my presumption may be rebutted by the majority, but it is beyond faith to expect her to again be leading jockey at Cheltenham or to win another Grand National. So, her star will inevitably begin to wane. Yet by heavens we must convey our respect to her for the illumination of her achievements.

​Having given the subject long consideration, I have refined my thoughts about an English version of the Dublin Racing Festival. My initial reaction was to add a second-day to Cheltenham’s already existing ‘Trials Day’, if such a concept was accepted as part of the answer to rectifying the drubbing imposed on British trainers by their Irish counterparts last March. I was then swayed by Paul Nicholl’s idea of a festival at Newbury, building two-days around the Game Spirit and Denman Chases. I like Newbury, believing it to be Britain’s best dual-purpose racecourse and direly underused when it comes to major races.
Realistically, though, having heard so many varying comments, I think the sensible option would be to enhance the one-day at Cheltenham, perhaps extending it to 8 races and bulking up prize-money. Unfortunately, the loser if such a proposal came to fruition would be Newbury and I would deeply regret the devaluing of the Game Spirit and the Denman Chases. Perhaps a compromise would be to change the dates of these two fixtures so that a combination of Newbury and Cheltenham could become the English version of the Dublin Racing Festival, with Newbury on the Saturday and Cheltenham on the Sunday, with the Game Spirit being the 2-mile trial, the Denman the Gold Cup trial, with the Cotwolds Chase transforming into a trial for whatever the 3-mile novice chase at the festival is now called. Cheltenham could have a Champion Hurdle trial, Newbury an Arkle trial and so on.
Anyway, that is where I’m settling. Either an extended single day at Cheltenham, as is but with 8 races and better prize-money or a weekend combining Cheltenham and Newbury. That’s it; I’m giving the matter no further thought.
The most annoying phrase trending with trainers nowadays is ‘He goes well fresh, so we will go straight to Cheltenham.’ With the statement after failing to win, and you do hear this an annoyingly number of times. ‘Perhaps he could have done with a run beforehand to get the freshness out of him.’ Nicky Henderson started the vogue, with Paul Nicholls getting on board soon after and now it’s the thing, isn’t it? Trainers now have the idea that they are not a proper man/woman if they can’t win a Grade 1 with a horse that hasn’t run for 3-months. Paul Nicholls is of the opinion that Frodon ‘likes to be fresh’, yet he won all those handicaps without being ‘fresh’, when he won the Ryanair, he had won the Cotswold Chase previously. When he ran in both the Gold Cup last season and the King George this season, he was ‘fresh’ and his performance lacked, I believe, for it. One day, believe you me, we will have a Gold Cup or Champion Chase where no horse has run since Christmas. It’s coming.
So, who will win the 3 main events at this season’s Festival, the one Festival that truly matters.
This year’s Gold Cup, I believe, without Frodon to string them along, will be run at a slower tempo to last year, though as usual only a true stayer will prevail. During and after the Betfair I had no other thought than I was watching this season’s Gold Cup winner. Although on reflection he beat nothing of note, A Plus Tard looked formidable, a class apart and intuition insists I remain loyal to my thoughts back in November. I was disappointed he got beat at Leopardstown by Galvin but no one was saying A Plus Tard is the next Arkle.
The slower pace, I believe, will suit Al Boum Photo and I wouldn’t discard him, even if history and age are counting against him. I was impressed with Tornado Flyer at Kempton, and not only because I was alone in thinking he was not a forlorn outsider, recommending him as an each-way bet. When horses look one-paced, as is the case with Envoi Allen, by the way, it is a sure sign they want a longer trip.
On the each-way front, I recommend Fiddlerontheroof, currently 33 or 40/1. I thought his run in the Ladbrokes Trophy was impressive, even if the winner is a fence short of being anything other than a good handicapper. Chantry House’s jumping let him down at Kempton – not tried in a competitive race, with his Festival win due more to the failings of the horses he passed after the last than any brilliance on his part. Champ looks a million dollars but under pressure will only, I suspect, pay out a few shekels. One day Asterion Forlonge will learn how to jump fences in the home straight and will rattle in at long odds. He is a ‘cliff’ horse and by following him religiously you might lose more money than you ever win but it is going to happen for him, eventually. Minella Indo is either wrong or his heart is not in racing at the moment. Again, it looks like he’ll arrive at Cheltenham ‘fresh’.
To my eyes the race lies between A Plus Tard, A Boum Photo, Galvin, with as a genuine each-way prospect in Fiddlerontheroof. 
The Queen Mother Champion Chase is a match between Shishkin and Energumene, with the former preferred. If the ground is good, Sceau Royal would be worth an each-way bet. I also think Captain Guiness is going the right way, as is Hitman. I suspect Greaneteen has done his winning for the season.
If Appreciate It turns-up, if he runs beforehand, if he does run and wins impressively at the Dublin Racing Festival, if, if, if, of course, he is the danger to Honeysuckle. The only British hope, and my each-way suggestion, is Adagio, though again I would like to see him run beforehand, both to demonstrate his well-bring but also for experience. Can’t see Honeysuckle being beaten, though, as the 7Ib gender allowance gives her, in my estimation, an unfair advantage.
The Stayers Hurdle is a mystery, though I lean towards Flooring Porter over Klassical Dream. But it is only the middle of January and, as it is said, ‘all is to play for’.

​Firstly, and this should not be glossed-over, horse racing enthusiasts should count their blessings that we have over 100-days of terrestrial coverage to enjoy and that the sport is in such competent hands as the I.T.V. racing team. Yes, Ed Chamberlain has a habit of occasionally over-hyping what is to come but it is done with the best of intentions. And I believe the team under him are better balanced now more female ‘experts’ are employed, portraying themselves as less of a lads get-together. 
As someone who is very much National Hunt led, with my following of flat racing more forced than instinctively necessary to my life, I am not surprised I.T.V.’s more substantive viewing figures revolve around the winter game and I was amused (though I am not sure he was offering a serious suggestion) by Lee Mottershead’s comment that its summer viewing figures would increase if they included a few races from Ffos Las or Worcester to their coverage of York or Goodwood.
One shouldn’t crow, though, that the figures clearly suggest that amongst the public National Hunt is more popular than the flat as the big bosses at I.T.V. headquarters may cool on renewing the contract if summer televised racing does not bring in advertising revenue, the main reason they are interested in screening the sport.
My first introduction to racing was through the t.v. screen when I was about 7 or 8, left alone with my sister while my parents went out to buy a birthday present for me. My birthday is in April and my taster to the sport was flat racing. 12-months or so later I watched my first Grand National and my fascination with the sport became a life-long condition of wonderment. I could not have been struck with more awe if I were transported back to the battlefield to spectate on the Charge of the Light Brigade.
There was a time when the Epsom Derby caught not only my imagination but the interest and fascination of the wider sporting and non-sporting public. It was labelled the greatest horse-race in the world, though in my eyes and heart it paled in comparison to the Grand National. Sadly, and no matter how deep you dispute my belief it is true, the Epsom Derby is not these days the ‘greatest horse-race’ in the world, with the Arc one race that has definitely usurp it in terms of prestige.
The Epsom Derby is plagued by both tradition and unnecessary change. To me, the Derby run after Royal Ascot, as it was two-seasons back, would benefit the race as it would build a stronger narrative. Also, the race should return to mid-week, as has been its history until bookmakers decided betting turnover and their profits would increase if swapped to a Saturday. It hasn’t worked for the prestige of the race as a Saturday in June makes it impossible for the race to be the standout event. But none of that is the fault of I.T.V. They are left to stir-up sporting interest in our ‘greatest race’ when the Epsom Derby is in competition with other great sporting attractions. I am convinced they would achieve larger viewing figures if the race returned to mid-week.
The problem flat racing must contend with, not that it will be admitted by anyone, is that there is no comparable flat race to the Grand National. No race with a ‘wow factor’; no race that fires-up the imagination; no race that will grab the attention of mainstream media or the floating sporting viewer.
Back in the early days of this site, so so long ago, I put forward the suggestion that for flat racing to leap forward in the eyes of the public it might be an idea to glance back at the sport’s past. Though it is difficult to perceive in our modern era of immediacy, before the 1st World War and between the wars, the Lincoln Handicap was one of the most prestigious races to win and formed one-half of the Spring Double, a concept all but forgotten today. Read autobiographies of trainers or jockeys of that era and tales about the Lincoln abound, with horses laid out for it, huge gambles won and lost and top-notch horses, the previous season’s Guineas winners, no less, in the race. As the Lincoln has been as good as abandoned nowadays, I think it is time it was reborn, jazzed-up and given, for the flat, the unique calling of the ‘wow factor’.
For my idea to have traction it might have to be moved to Newmarket as the mile straight at Doncaster is not wide enough to make what I am about to suggest viable. I propose a field of 40 and started from a barrier, not stalls. The Grand National is unique; I propose the Lincoln can also become unique. There is jeopardy in 40-runners, there is jeopardy in starting a race from a barrier. It will be a 1-mile in duration glimpse of flat racing’s past, a lesson in how flat racing was for the better part of its existence. It will be frightening for the jockeys as not one of them will be old enough to have ridden in a race started from a barrier and will require a riding technique they are not used to. And that is the point. It will be different; as the Grand National is different to the normal.

​I have just finished reading ‘My Racing Life’, the autobiography of Tommy Weston, the 3-time Epsom Derby Winner.
If Tommy Weston had retired last year, and not in 1950, he would have been advised to start the first chapter with the controversy that he inadvertently (and innocently) got himself embroiled, with the rest of the book taking his life-story from cradle to retirement. But that was not the way of autobiographies back in the 1950’s, which is more the pity as the author used the case in the Central Criminal Court as a crowning point of his memoirs when in truth it was a bit of a damp squib as the case against two members of staff at a leading London bookmaker came to nothing. His name was mentioned; it was alleged he bet with the bookmaker in question, without there being any substantive proof. It was just his name pencilled into a clerk’s book.
He claims, perhaps quite rightly, that having his name associated with illegal betting activities ruined his reputation and hastened his decision to retire. Yet in the previous season, 1949, he only rode one significant winner and that was the now defunct and perhaps even obscure back then Wisteria Stakes.
Interestingly, in the final chapter he wrote ‘With thirty-years of continuous riding for great and small men behind me, I have saved sufficient to spare me the indignity of having to open motor-car doors in my old age’, a reference to a former famous jockey reduced to such an occupation through failing to spend the pennies and save the pounds. The former colleague was not named. Yet there is a comment about him ‘in later life he was a sad figure having spent all the money he made during a long successful career’.
He twice won the Epsom Derby. In 1924 on Sansovino and 1933 on Hyperion, perhaps the best horse he ever rode. Some, though, John Hislop for example, rated Fairway the better horse, winner of the 1928 St. Leger. He rode eleven classic winners in all and was champion jockey in 1926. Quintin Gilbey said of him ‘No jockey rode a more vigorous finish and his record showed that though inelegant he was most effective’. As backhanded a compliment as ever was given.
Where ‘My Racing Life’ succeeds is that Weston describes in detail the life of a jockey in the days between the World Wars. As far as I can know, the demands on a stable jockey – he was retained rider for Lord Derby, Sir Abe Bailey and J.V. Rank – was somewhat different to today, with Weston called upon, when not racing, to take an interest in the horses when stabled, giving his opinion to not only his employer but the trainer, too, and though racing was only a 6-day a week occupation back then, on Sundays he was expected on duty to ride work and to inspect the horses on an evening.
The book is awash with anecdotes, though as he is keen on anonymity for the colleagues he wrote about, the reader is kept at arms-length, suspicious that a certain amount of editing has accompanied the story-telling. One story he could not tell to its fullest concerned why Lord Derby sacked him as stable jockey. His Lordship, apparently, regretted the decision and his wording made it seem as if his arm was twisted. We will never know, as Weston never knew. George Lambton had retired due to ill health and College Leader had taken over as Lord Derby’s trainer and it was suggested Leader did not take to Weston and wanted to use a jockey of his own choice. And of course, and this might be a case of ‘no smoke without fire’, even at the height of his success perhaps there was talk of Tommy Weston being in league with bookmakers.
With few exceptions, I much prefer the autobiographies of long-dead jockeys and trainers as so much of their lives and careers are unknown to me and they lived a very different life to modern-day racing people. Say what you will but as interesting a life the likes of Ruby Walsh and A.P. McCoy have led neither of them were plucked from their careers to go serve in world wars. Tommy Weston was in the Royal Navy and twice survived a sinking. It puts the thrills and spills of the racecourse into perspective.
It may be just my memory receding but even with all his success as a jockey and a career that lasted for thirty-years, I had all but forgotten about Tommy Weston and would not have answered correctly in a quiz ‘Who rode Hyperion to win the 1933 Epsom Derby’. I suppose it might have something to do with Steve Donoghue dominating the early years of Weston’s career and Gordon Richards the middle and end of his jockeys’ life. I know more now, though, even if I am frustrated that Weston failed to flush out the incidents of his life with greater clarity and insight. A good book for all of that and one I would read again in the future.