​For the majority of its history the mighty Goliaths of the Aintree fences was all there was of Aintree racecourse, apart from the stands, stables, etc. It was not until 1950 that it was proposed to build a new steeplechase course within the boundary of the historic racecourse. For anyone not to have attended an Aintree meeting, the site is huge, with a vast central enclosure, the site of the new course. Lord Mildmay, a name synonymous with the Grand National, very much like Sam Waley-Cohen is today, two sporting amateurs to have come close to winning the great race, was greatly in favour of a steeplechase course modelled after, though smaller, the great black monsters that would remain sentinel to the new course. Lord Mildmay referred to the course he gave his name to ‘as a nursery for future Grand National horses’. Sadly, he was never to see the course completed, meeting his death in a swimming accident shortly afterwards.
You can understand the enthusiasm for a steeplechase course devised to help horses adapt to the Grand National fences later in life. It was a noble deed, only once the course was in operation trainers and owners considered it too severe, too much of a jumping test, especially for novices. In fact, the Liverpool executive had even bolder plans – a second new course, the Sefton, which would include part of the Grand National and Mildmay courses. The ambivalence of trainers to the Mildmay course perhaps dissuaded any attempt to build this second course.
The reason for a want of a new course at Aintree was the expense and disruption caused by closing the Melling Road on race-days which meant it almost impossible to stage any other meetings at Aintree except for the 3-day Grand National meeting.
The new course was officially on December 2nd, 1953, by Lord Sefton, a day made extra memorable for him as he not only won the first race over the new obstacles but his Irish Lizard won the feature race, the Christmas Cracker Chase.
The new course was initially deemed a success, with only two horses falling, though the small number of entrants was a pointer to its future. Small turnouts were a bug-bear the racecourse executives could not defeat. All through the fifties and sixties races suffered from fields of less than ten, with some as few as two. Quintin Gilbey wrote in 1955. ’Built on much the same lines as the Aintree fences, these are much smaller, but there are no better constructed obstacles in the country, and horses cannot afford to take liberties at them. It is therefore surprising that connections of horses likely to be concerned with the Grand National and other chases at the March meeting do not patronise this fixture more liberally.’
A year after the opening of the Mildmay course, the go-ahead executive started up a motor racing track, hosting the British Grand Prix five-times till 1962 when it was dropped from the Grand Prix circuit.
I used to like the Mildmay fences, though I didn’t have to ride over them otherwise my view might have matched the majority. They were different to the ordinary fences around the park courses, presenting challenges unseen anywhere else. Unfortunately, something I was unaware of at the time, horses were falling too regularly and the greater the number of falls the more likely there was to be fatalities. In 1975 the Mildmay fences were replaced by the park fences of today.
The real problem with the Mildmay course is that it incorporated several of the Aintree fences, the two fences before the Chair and the water jump and there were two open ditches in the back straight. When you consider novices were being asked to jump these fences, you can understand that the risks became ever magnified.
The new Mildmay course was also not an instant success as jockeys considered it too sharp and the bend out of the back straight and the bend into the home straight were realigned. Thankfully the adjustments met with everyone’s approval, though it remains a sharp track, almost the complete opposite to the ups and downs of Cheltenham.
Steeplechase fences are by their very construction a danger to horse and rider if not given their rightful respect and horses do on occasion fall and sadly some do not rise afterwards. I doubt if anyone will forget the day One Man died, his fall, though, I believe, was due to a heart attack and had little to do with the fence. I’ll remember the day until by own last breath. I was at home, watching from the comfort of the sofa, yet I still felt the punctured air as a tearful Brian Harding returned to the weighing room, having to leave the best horse he ever rode to the attention of people who had no place in their heart for the mesmeric grey. As with Gordon Richards, we thought we had at last worked him out. Racing went on, of course, as was its duty. It seemed disrespectful, though, didn’t it?

​Until I indulged in a little research, a rare occurrence for me, I assumed the Topham Trophy had morphed out of the old and sadly defunct Valentine Chase, both being 2-mile 6-furlong races. I was wrong. Sadly, as a result of my stupid brain, I am wrong a lot of the time these days and must remember not to invest money on the strength of my memory.
Whereas the Becher Chase is named after the amateur jockey who fell back into the ditch at what is now famously known as ‘Bechers’, the fence after the Canal Turn, ‘Valentines’, is named after a horse of the same name. Valentine took part in the Grand National of 1840, won by Jerry, from Arthur, with Valentine a gallant third. His jockey, Alan Power, had placed a substantial bet that he would be in the lead at the notorious stone-wall, a fence situated where the water-jump now resides. He won the bet. He was still in the lead at Bechers and the Canal Turn, yet for reasons only the horse could explain, Valentine took exception to the next fence and thought to refuse, changing his mind at the final second and producing an astonishing, gymnastic-type twisting leap to defy the expectations of the spectators to clear the fence with his jockey still in the saddle. Which, of course, means that Valentines is named in honour of a successful, memorable clearance of the fence, whereas Bechers is celebrated for a jockey’s abject failure to achieve anything close to the same.
There used to be 9-races over the Grand National fences, as opposed to 5 nowadays. The lost races being The Champion Chase, run between 1881-1950, Stanley Chase 1893-1952, Molyneux Chase 1926-1965 and the Valentine Chase 1885-1952. Between 1965 and 2013 the Becher Chase could also be added to the list but thankfully someone had the common-sense idea to revive the race. We all owe that man/woman a drink. I only wish it would be the main race of the weekend and I.T.V. could set up camp there.
In its 67-year history, the Valentine took many forms, though the distance hardly altered. In its final appearance in the form-book the race produced a dead-heat for first place. Between 1922 and 1935 it was restricted to amateur riders, a period when it is said the race held the greatest interest. Prize money was poor and the amateurs invoked the Corinthian, never-say-die, spirit that allowed the race a certain gravitas.
Unlike the Topham, the Valentine was never a handicap, always a conditions race, with the conditions changing on a quite regular basis. At one point the race was restricted to horses that had not won a race worth £500, a condition that seemed designed to limit the calibre of horse eligible.
Look, when it comes to Aintree and the Grand National fences, I am both a touch naïve and a little bit of a romantic. The Grand National fences of today are mere impressions of what used to face the brave horses and intrepid jockeys of yesteryear, yet every year the armchair viewer/spectator is transported back to the gladiatorial days of Golden Miller, Royal Tan and Wyndburgh. I admit that bringing any of the lost Aintree races back from the dead could not be entertained if the fences were as mighty as once they were and I am sure when the Grand Sefton and Bechers Chases were revived in 2013, come the day there were a lot of cross-fingers and prayers to be seen and heard amongst the racecourse executives. 
The fences are not as mighty and unforgiving as in times past and consideration should be given to reviving the Valentine Chase. All the present races over the Grand National fences are handicaps and a conditions chase could possibly attract a better-class of horse. It would be senseless to propose reinstating into the race programme the Champion Chase as it would never in a million-years attract a standard of horse that could in anyway be described as a ‘champion’. Yet the Valentine, its conditions framed to suit horses that perhaps in time might come back in April to contest the Grand National, would sit uniquely in the race programme.
I contest that too many horses get into the Grand National on ratings that bear little comparison to their form at the time of entry. I realise that the history of the Grand National is littered with horses that loved the place one-year and yet seemed to fall out of love with it the next. Golden Miller is a prime example. A part of the problem is there is not enough races over the Grand National fences for trainers to find out if their horses will take to the place and only one over a distance of ground anywhere near comparable to the big race itself.
If asked (highly unlikely) I would run the Grand Sefton on Old Roan Chase Day; two races for completely different types of horse, and run the Valentine on the same day as the Becher, titling the meeting ‘Grand National Trials Day’. As with the Grand Sefton and Old Roan, the Valentine and Becher chases would be for two different types of horse, though run over the same distance.
I would argue the race programme is this country lacks variety, improvisation and is too formulaic. A conditions chase over the Grand National fences, established to encourage trainers to be bolder in their outlook and to help the Grand National attract the right type of horse, would be something a little bit different, perhaps a throwback to the blue-remembered good old days when horse racing was truly king.