​I hope Aintree and the B.H.A. have plans in place in the event the Grand National is prevented from being staged this coming Saturday due to waterlogging. Clerk of the Course Suleka Varma is confident the soil composition and drainage system at Aintree will cope with any amount of rain thrown at it, and I am sure we all hope she is correct.
Anyone who is a sucker, as I am, for re-runs of past Grand Nationals, especially pre-television coverage, will have seen footage of the 1955 race won by Pat Taaffe and Quare Times when due to waterlogging the water jump was omitted, the only time, I believe, this has ever happened, with puddles the length of a horsebox on the landing side of the first fence. I suspect the course had no drainage back then and the horses galloped through the water seemingly without incident, though it did not look rather amateurish and it cannot be envisaged a similar scenario would be allowed in this day and age.
Heavy going, as far as the Grand National is concerned, is not necessarily a bad turn-of-events, as it slows the race down and as long as riders of tired horses pull-up a fence early rather than a fence too late, casualties in the way of fallers will be kept to very small numbers. What we can expect this weekend is very few finishers, perhaps as few as four or five, with Nassalam the most obvious beneficiary of rain rain and more rain, though he still has to jump the fences.
When Red Marauder won in 2001 in similar conditions to what we can expect this Saturday, there were calls after the event, especially by one of the Grand National’s most vocal champions, Alastair Down, that it was a mad decision to go ahead with the race, a rare occasion when Alastair’s sense of humour failed him. The 2001 renewal, to use one of Alastair’s favourite phrases, was run in conditions that resembled ‘the Battle of the Somme’, though at Aintree there were no fatalities, unlike in 1916. The only unlucky combination, apart from Mark Pitman and the gallant Smartie, were Carl Llewellyn and Beau, taken out of the race neither by the conditions nor by falling but by the reins ending-up on the same side of Beau’s neck after a great recovery by the jockey when Beau all but fell. With no steering, Llewellyn struggled on before being unseated two-fences later. He looked the likely winner until calamity struck. It was all good fun, though, do you not think?
Excess speed is Aintree’s enemy as horses get taken out of their comfort zone while at the same time having to cope with unfamiliar fences and racecourse topography. Firm ground, as when Mr.Frisk broke Red Rum’s course record in 1990, will never occur again at Aintree as artificial watering is now employed so that the ground is at least good if not good-to-soft. I might be overly pessimistic in forecasting a low number of finishers as the fences are less foreboding than in 2001, with Becher’s rendered a neutered pussy-cat compared to the days when the ghosts of the long-dead used trip-wire to bring down horses and invisible hands dragged jockeys out-of-the-saddle. 
I am sure it will weigh heavily on the mind and conscience of the clerk-of-the-course if a decision must be made on Saturday morning to go-ahead or not to go-ahead if there were fatalities in either the Foxhunters or the Topham. The sport, as with Aintree, needs the revenue that the Grand National generates and she will be pressured, I am sure, to declare the ground safe to race; the sport, though, cannot be faced with another fiasco. In 2001 we did not walk on egg-shells, the wolf that is animal rights activists, was not howling at our door. The term ‘social licence’ was also not bandied about in 2001. 2001 was a life-time ago. 2001 was another country. In 2001, the country and the world were less corrupted.
The Grand National must be run but not at the cost of the sport’s reputation. Postponing for a week might interfere with the racing schedule, make life difficult for I.T.V. and the satellite channels. But if postponing is what must be done, let it be done. Crossed-fingers the B.H.A. have a plan set-aside to reschedule, not just abandon as they decided back in the humiliating year of two false starts and egg stains on the face of the sport that still smell to this day.

​Pat Taaffe in his autobiography ‘My Life and Arkle’s wrote of Foinavon ‘Now I think if you asked me to pick a horse in that race to find a way through, I would have chosen Foinavon. The others might panic, but not this one’. Later, he wrote. ‘I was glad to see him win, because I had quite a soft spot for this droll little horse’.
As a young horse Foinavon was owned by the Duchess of Westminster and trained by Tom Dreaper. He ran 23-times from Greenogue, winning 3 races of little significance. To return to Pat Taaffe’s wonderful, if all too brief, autobiography. ‘On a day at Baldoyle, we fell heavily. We parted company in mid-air and after I bounced, I looked around, half expecting to see Foinavon in trouble. And there he was lying down … eating grass, cool as you please, just taking time out for a snack.’
It is my contention that Foinavon never receives the credit he deserves for being the only horse to negotiate the fence that now bears his name, the only one to ignore the mayhem of horses going any which way but over the fence, with jockeys on the wrong-side of the fence, with some stranded on the fence. And Foinavon was not the only horse out of camera shot as the field approached the one after Bechers. He was, though, the only one brave enough to avoid fate’s snipers and get to the other side.
At the moment of perhaps the most madcap episode in the history of the race, what was most remarkable was the number of horses still running and without the debacle at the twenty-third fence, the 1967 Grand National might be recorded with the greatest number of finishers. 44 set-off on April 8th and even with pandemonium at fence 23, 18 still managed to pass the winning post, with the majority of jockeys believing themselves to be unlucky not to have won.
What is never mentioned about the 1967 Grand National is that in completing the course in 9-minutes 49-seconds, Foinavon’s time was faster than Kilmore in 1962, Well To Do in 1972, Rubstic in 1979 and Ben Nevis, admittedly in heavy ground, in 1980 and only 2-seconds slower than Aldaniti in1981 and Corbiere in 1983. And Foinavon doddled round, going no faster when alone in front as he was when he was out-of-contention, with John Buckingham’s only ambition to get round safely. The time maybe nowhere close to what Red Rum, and later Mr.Frisk, achieved, yet it is a respectable time.
The sad part about what happened at the twenty-third was that it might have cost that grand old horse Freddie his final opportunity to win the race, having been second the previous two-years. Honey End, ridden by Josh Gifford won the race for second, with Red Alligator and Brian Flecther third, the combination that ‘righted the wrong’ the following year, running away to win by twenty-length.
Also, and this fact continues to escape me, the winner of the 2-year-old selling race at Aintree the day before Foinavon became a Grand National hero, was to become the sport’s greatest equine hero, the horse rightfully credited with saving the Grand National from the developer’s heavy plant machinery. Red Rum, of course, a horse of a completely different hue to Foinavon.
Reg Green, in his mighty tome, ‘A Race Apart’, a history of the great race, did at least praise Foinavon with being ‘worthy winner’, even if at odds of 444/1 on the Tote very few punters would have been of the same opinion. And he was a worthy, if fortunate winner, as he achieved what no other horse in the race achieved, in a sport where obstacles are to be jumped, he successfully negotiated all 30-fences and was the first past the winning post. He may not have ordinarily cared much for extending himself on the racecourse but on the day it truly mattered, he rose to the challenge. The following year, ridden by Phil Harvey, as Buckingham was claimed by his employer, Edward Courage, Foinavon was showing a little more plunk and according to his jockey was travelling okay when he was brought down at the Chair by Bassnet, one of the favourites.
Overall, though, Foinavon cared as little for winning races after he became a household name as he did before, though in 1968, on his favoured firm ground, he managed to win races at Devon & Exeter and Uttoxeter.
For all the critics will claim him the luckiest winner in the history of the race, his name will live in perpetuity and only the precious few achieve such status. As Reg Green wrote, he was a worthy winner and should be remembered as such.

​I think for the first eight or nine-years of my life, might be ten, though I doubt it as the names of all the runners in the 1964 renewal are as fresh in my mind as if it were ‘only yesterday’, not that I can recall everything I did yesterday. I digress. 
Anyway, in my early years I lived happily in ignorance of the Grand National, yet since my awakening to the great race, it has dominated my life and focused my attention from publication of entries to every dearly-loved second of the build-up and the race itself. That steadfast engagement has withered this time around, as if I am suffering from a rare illness. Perhaps it is the first stages of ‘getting old syndrome’. But it just does not feel like we are ten-days away from the next instalment of the Grand National.
As an aside, back in the days of young life, aged ten and onwards, for some reason I collected all the cards that in those days came in cigarette packets and, was it, cereal packets, and when I ran short of actual cards – they had fish and birds on them, if I recall – I cut cereal packets into the same size as the cards, writing the names of horses on them. That is why Purple Silk, Peacetown, Eternal, Pontin-Go, April Rose, Pappageno’s Cottage, Supersweet and others that ran in 1964 remain in my memory, whereas the names of more recent runners elude me. Could not remember Latenightpass a few days ago, for instance.
I dare say my lack of child-like excitement is caused by my belief that the Grand National is in the throes of being ‘run-down’, the policy of death by a thousand-cuts a signal that the end is nigh. I am not suggesting that a race bearing the name Grand National will not exist twenty or thirty-years down the line but it will be a facsimile of the real thing, as it already has become in many ways. Watch a recording of the 1964 race, won by Team Spirit at his fifth attempt, followed by a recording of last year’s race. Chalk and cheese. Yes, a race in the guise of the Grand National will exist as long as National Hunt continues as it is a cash-cow for Aintree and bookmakers.
But ask yourself this: does winning the Grand National change lives these days. It elevated Rachael Blackmore from a star of horse racing and into world-wide recognition and boosted her financial income, no doubt. But she is an outlier, for all she was already at the top bough of our sport.
When Tim Norman won on Anglo in 1966, he was practically an unknown and though he never went on to hit the heights Rachael Blackmore has achieved, winning the world’s greatest horse race boosted his career and until injuries stalled his progress, he was making money at the game. The same with John Buckingham the following year, his fifteen-minutes of fame extenuated by the pile-up at the fence now named after Foinavon.
Brian Fletcher made his name winning two Grand Nationals on the immortal Red Rum but when he won the race in 1968 on Red Alligator he was hardly known outside of the north of England.
In 1979, who had heard of Maurice Barnes or John Leadbetter, jockey and trainer of Rubstic? And when you go through the list of winning owners, you understand that winning the race was a once-in-a-lifetime achievement. The little man could achieve glory; lives were changed because of winning the Grand National. It was a dream, back then, for every jockey, to win the Grand National and a privilege just to get a ride in the race. The odds were, of course, 100/1 that a journeyman jockey would win the race back then, sadly, those odds are a whole lot longer these days.
It is not so much that an Irish-trained horse is most likely to win the race, with very few English-based jockeys getting a ride this year, it is because the horses that the journeyman jockey rides through the season, even if they are reliable jumpers with an excess of stamina, will not have a high enough rating even to be entered in the race.
The Grand National has become a race for the elite of the sport and it should not be an exclusive club, and for the public that will become a turn-off. The romance of the race has all but been beaten out of it by the incessant tweaking and tinkering, the madcap desire to sanitise the race for woke public consumption. Becher’s Brook is just a landmark nowadays, nothing to be feared, no change in riding style required. The first ditch is lowered this year, removing its notoriety, the relief removed of your horse clearing the first of the ‘danger’ fences and showing hope that it has taken to the fences.
The odds are short that Gordon Elliott or Willie Mullins will win the race again as they could easily turn-out half the field by themselves, after all. Even if Lucinda Russell won the race with Corach Rambler it would be a case of winning the race again ….
Perhaps I am old; perhaps child-like enthusiasm is beyond me now; perhaps, God forbid! I have wearied of the race. Perhaps, and again, God forbid! the policy of death by a thousand cuts is not a work of fiction conjured from my mind but a real possibility, the real line of travel? If they keep cutting and lessening, people will not notice, will not remember the history, the immortal days of Red Rum, and, as with the lobster not knowing it is being boiled alive, the race is being purposefully guided towards a ‘natural death’?

​Red Rum is undoubtedly the greatest Aintree horse in racing history. I doubt if his achievement of three-wins will ever be surpassed. Indeed, I would argue he is one of the greatest racehorses of all-time, if not the greatest (arguably Desert Orchid might top him) for the impact he had on the sport. I would not dispute the suggestion that if it were not for Red Rum, the Grand National might not exist today.
If numbers or ratings were applied to the question ‘who is the greatest steeplechaser to run in the Grand National’, the answer would be Golden Miller, the only horse to win the Cheltenham Gold Cup and the Aintree spectacular in the same season.
When racing journalists list their top ten steeplechasers of all-time, due to the curveball of recency, many will include Best Mate and perhaps Captain Christy, and yet leave out Golden Miller, the winner of five Cheltenham Gold Cups. It is argued that in his day, the Gold Cup was nothing more than a trial or prep-race for the Grand National and that is not exactly true. If you read Basil Briscoe’s dreadful book – if you took out all the repetitions the book would be even shorter than it is - ‘The Life of Golden Miller’, he makes no bones about The Miller’s reputation as the greatest steeplechaser of his era was founded at Cheltenham, not Aintree.
At Aintree, Golden Miller was no Red Rum. Rummy loved the place; The Miller came to loathe the place. To my surprise, when Golden Miller won the Grand National in 1934, he received 2Ibs from Thomond, beating him into third by 5-lengths and the same. Golden Miller did not even start favourite, that honour falling to Really True who had finished second the previous year. Incidentally, Golden Miller won the Grand National as a 7-year-old, first running in the race as a 6-year-old, having already won 3 Cheltenham Gold Cups. As when Red Rum won his first Grand National, Golden Miller broke the track record carrying the welter burden of 12st 2Ibs.
Golden Miller’s c.v. is unlike any of the horses that might appear on lists of ‘greatest horses’. He was bred, if you do not already know, by Barry Geraghty’s grandfather, who was given his dam to look after by a local army man who was leaving home to re-enlist in the army. He never came back to reclaim his mare. The great horse was originally sold as a yearling for 100 guineas.
Golden Miller won in total 29-races and due to carrying the wrong weight was disqualified in another. His first appearance on a racecourse was at Southwell as a 3-year-old over hurdles, where he was unplaced. His first victory was in his third race later in January 1931 at Leicester, picking up 83-guineas for his then owner Mr.Carr. 3-weeks later he won again at Nottingham. In Golden Miller’s era, remember, horses often travelled to the races by train and racecourses close to railway stations were favoured by trainers.
The following season he won first-time out in a hurdle race at Chelmsford. He won again at Chelmsford in November before winning his first steeplechase at Newbury, though he was disqualified at the previous Newbury meeting in the less-than-gloriously-named Moderate Chase. He finished his first season as a chaser by winning his first Gold Cup, on his fourth race over fences, and then running unplaced in a flat race and finally finishing unplaced in the Lancashire Chase at Manchester. It was the following season that saw a by now fully-furnished Golden Miller soar to the heights that he remains remembered by. Winning 5-races, including the Gold Cup, before running unplaced in the Grand National.
The following season he was campaigned with only the Grand National in mind, winning a second Gold Cup on his way to winning the Grand National, a fete still to be surpassed by any horse.
He won chases at Wolverhampton, Leicester, Derby and Sandown before completing his Gold Cup hat-trick, though he unseated early on the Grand National, was turned-out the following day and unseated again in the Champion Chase. His dislike of Aintree was becoming noticeable.
In the year of his fifth Gold Cup triumph, he only won one other race, the Andover Chase at Newbury, being beaten first-time out in a National Hunt flat race at Sandown and prior to Cheltenham ran out five fences from home, in the Newbury Chase at, unsurprisingly, Newbury. His final attempt at adding to his Aintree laurels came in 1936 where he brought down in a melee at the first fence, was remounted only to refuse at the open ditch after Valentines.
Amazingly, at least by today’s standards, that was not the end of Golden Miller’s season as he turned out less than 3-weeks later in the Welsh Grand National at Cardiff, finishing a gallant third.
Again, by the standards of today, the 1937 Gold Cup was abandoned due to flooding and was not reopened, which, perhaps, displays its significance back then, with the Grand National the only National Hunt race with any prestige value. Before refusing once again in the Grand National, he had won four races, 2 at Wincanton, I at Gatwick and, according to Basil Briscoe’s, as I now understand, unreliable resume of the Miller’s career, a race at Birmingham, the Optional (S) Chase. The s could not stand for selling, could it?
Golden Miller did not contest the Grand National in 1938, though he did attempt a sixth triumph in the Gold Cup, failing with his usual display of courage to Morse Code. He did, though, add, two more victories to his career total, including that Optional (S) Chase at Birmingham.
Golden Miller was a great horse and would have achieved similar levels of success in any era of the sport, I believe. He was, not, though a hero of Aintree, taking the opinion that to win the race once was enough for any horse.