​The first Epsom Derby was run in 1780, though it can be argued that as the distance was only a mile, the 1781 race should be considered the first. Diomed won in 1780 and a race is still run in his name at the Derby meeting to this day. Perhaps, though, Young Eclipse should be similarly honoured having won the first Derby to be run over 12-furlongs.
In 1780, the owner of the victor, Sir Charles Bunbury, who might have had what become known worldwide as the Derby named in his honour if only he had called heads instead of tails and lost the naming rights to Lord Derby, picked up £1,065 15-shillings, which at todays values comes in at a cool £225,000 give or take a guinea or two. This year’s winning owner will receive close to £900,000, so at least the Epsom Derby is going up in value if not in prestige.
Unlike British and Irish jockeys brought-up on the unique topography of Epsom racecourse, foreign jockeys, used to flat oval tracks, on first experiencing the ups and downs of the Downs must get butterflies the size of cart-horses in their stomachs. The twists, turns, undulations and cambers of Epsom must be the equivalent for flat jockeys of Aintree before its sad emasculation by the well-meaning though wrong-headed allies of the ignorant minority. The Derby can be a helter-skelter of a race with a right-hand bend directly after the start, a steep rise of 140-feet, the descent to Tattenham Corner and then the free-wheeling dash for the home straight and a camber that can easily undo the good progress of favourites and hasten to the back of the fields outsiders that have given their all as the winning post hoves into view. Then there is the noise of the revellers in-field, the fun of the fair, the Ferris-wheel and the merry-go-rounds. Is it any wonder French trainers prefer to stay at home these days, even if their own Derby at Chantilly is nowadays a lesser race due to having 2-furlongs cut from the traditional Derby distance of 12-furlongs.
The only dead-heat for the Epsom Derby was way back in 1884 when St.Gatien and Harveste could not be separated.
Fred Archer won the race five-times in ten-years, Silvio, Bend Or, Iroquois, Melton and perhaps the best of the five, Ormonde in 1886.
There has not been a royal winner since 1900, Persimmon.
In 1946 Airbourne, a grey, won the race during which there was a snow storm.
It is hard to reconcile with the fact that Lester Piggott first won the race in 1954, the year of my birth, on Never Say Die, an apt name for a jockey who never gave in no matter the injury or circumstance of life.
Amazingly, it took the legendary Sir Gordon Richards all his career to win a Derby, finally achieving his most cherished goal in1953 on Pinza, only 12-months before an eighteen-year-old upstart won his first of nine Derby wins. Given the longevity of both their careers it is difficult to conceive that Piggott and Richards competed against each other.
The half-brothers Blakeney and Morston won in 1969 and 1973 for their owner-breeder-trainer, Arthur Budgett. Budgett, as with another owner-breeder of the era, John Hislop, was a believer in determining the limitations of his horses, with Blakeney staying in training as a 4-year-old to run in the Ascot Gold Cup. That sure does not happen these days.
In 1962 seven-horses failed to complete the course. As the field started down the hill chaos ensued when horses on the outside of the field drifted inward, with the result that a scene bearing more resemblance to Aintree than Epsom occurred. Romulus and Crossen collided with the heels of horses back-peddling and fell, five more, including the favourite Hethersett, also came down, one of which, King Canute suffered a fatal injury. Several of the unlucky jockeys suffered injuries, though only Harry Carr with concussion and Stan Smith with a broken leg were off-games for a period of time. In 1962 knee-jerk reactions were unknown and the incident was put down to a rare racing incident. Today, of course, after a similar incident, the maximum field size would be reduced, just so people could see something was being done, and jockeys lectured on being polite good boys next time they go race-riding.
The Epsom Derby is not what it used to be. There is never a maximum field – 20 nowadays – the in-field is not jammed-packed as in the good old days, the race does not receive the coverage in the media that other prestige sporting events achieve and it flies in the face of common-sense and fact to say it is the greatest race in the world. But it is still The Derby and there is only one race like it in the world if you discount the Oaks and perhaps the Coronation Cup and the other 12-furlong races held at Epsom, though they are not known throughout the racing kingdoms of the world. Long live Epsom. Long live the Derby.

​As with horse racing in general, both in Britain and Ireland, sadly, the Epsom Derby is no longer as fashionable or popular as in days gone by and Tom Sammes, the general manager of Epsom, has set himself the almighty task of doing something about it. Epsom and the Derby, I mean, not sorting out all of horse racing’s problems as that would need twenty Tom Sammes plus someone with experience of manifesting miracles.
Although no one will acknowledge the fact, the decline of the Epsom Derby began when the race was removed from its traditional date in the calendar, the first Wednesday in June, and given a Saturday slot to, as was said at the time, to boost betting turnover. Doing what the betting companies has wanted has not served racing well, I believe.
The grand old days when Parliament would adjourn early to allow ministers to attend the Derby in time to greet the monarch at the racecourse are sadly no more. In these wokish times a Prime Minister who owned even a share in a racehorse would suffer almighty abuse on social media, to the point when it would be considered a vote loser at the ballot-box. And running the race on a Wednesday allowed the hoi-polloi the excuse for an unsanctioned day off work and the masses would procure any form of transport, including shank’s pony, to attend all the fun of the fair on the Downs. The Epsom Derby of then is not the Epsom Derby of now.
Another reason why the Derby no longer attracts the attention of the wider public is the ever-increasing lack of competitive feel about the race. It is not that long ago there would be enough runners to have office sweepstakes on the race, as still happens, to a lesser degree than in the past, I admit, with the Grand National. Ten-runner races do not excite the public, especially when there is a hot favourite, as there is most years, if not this year. No would have raised an eyebrow at 25-runners at the height of its fame, even with the element of lottery that entailed with front-running long-shots falling back and hindering the better-fancied runners vying for a good position coming round Tattenham Corner.
And as with Willie Mullins domination of jumps racing, the domination at Epsom by the powerful stables of O’Brien and to a lesser extent the established power-houses of Cecil, Stoute and more recently Godolphin, the romance of the Derby has seeped away. Unlike the Melbourne Cup, a race that used to and continues to do so to lesser effect, stop a nation, the Epsom Derby is not a peoples’ race. The dress code is too stuffy, the race too associated with royalty and increasingly by foreign dignitaries of fabulous wealth and associated aloofness.
To reignite the appeal of the Epsom Derby Tom Sammes must give the race back to the people, local people, the people of London and racing people. It should not be packaged as a corporate event or a rehearsal for Royal Ascot. Remove it from the social calendar and play every trick in the book to attract 20-runners every year. The Epsom Derby has lost its parochial razzmatazz and removed from its historical past. The Derby is meant to be a test of the racehorse and rider. The course is quirky and unique. It is the racecourse itself that sets the Derby apart. People should just shut-up about how hard a race it is and talk about the great horses that won round there, with the Derby winner usually the best horse in the race and the season. Owners and trainers should stop moaning and finding excuses not to run, mainly based on protecting future stallion returns, and get on with supporting the race. Use it or lose it.

It continues to rankle with me that journalists will make the argument that the owner pays the bills and he or she can do as they please. I believe it is shameful that Callum Shepherd has lost the ride on Ambiente Friendly given he has done no wrong on the horse. It is especially wrong that the jockey they have replaced him with, as good and popular as Rab Havlin is, has a worst record around Epsom than the man he replaces. Callum Shepherd has 25% strike-rate at Epsom, bettered only, I believe, by William Buick.
I suggest, as I predicted, that the Gredleys have been in contact with Frankie Dettori, perhaps offered him the ride, which he had to turn down because of contractual obligations and he has then suggested his best mate Havlin for the ride. Whatever the circumstance, it is a sad state of affairs and the Gredleys should be ashamed of their lack of loyalty to a young jockey on the up and I only hope their decision comes back to bite them on the backside. As much as I would like to see James Fanshawe win a classic, on this occasion I hope it slips by him.
With the ground likely to be soft, I am favouring Ancient Wisdom at the moment, though on the day I might change my mind. Treasure is my idea of the Oaks winner.

​When you think of Aintree, you think of the Grand National – though not so grand since Suleka Varma took charge of British racing’s crown jewel – and its iconic fences and topography. When you think of Epsom, you think the Epsom Derby. And no other race but the Derby.
Considering Epsom owns and hosts flat racing single-most influential and best-known horse race, it is odd to suggest it is both underused and under-appreciated. As with Aintree, the topography of Epsom is distinctive, idiosyncratic and a test for horse and jockey unequalled around the world. Lingfield is similar enough to stage meaningful trials for both the Derby and Oaks and Brighton is up, down and twisty. But Epsom is Epsom and there is nothing like it outside of a point-to-point staged on a hill in the Peak District of northern England.
Once upon a time the racecourse was circular (ish), with the Great Metropolitan Handicap run over 2-miles 2-furlongs, with the course snaking around and passed the Derby start. It used to be a strand of the build-up to the Derby for runners to meander across the centre of the course, rather than canter the whole of the 12-furlongs as they do today to get to the starting stalls. It was part of the test, going by members of the public who were rightfully occupying the public spaces of the Downs.
The current management of Epsom are of the same opinion as myself in believing Epsom is unloved and in need of sprucing-up in order to bring back the crowds and to weave the course back into the fabric of the local community. Outside of the Derby meeting, Epsom hardly splashes a puddle, with none of its other meetings deemed worthy of being a major focus for I.T.V. racing.
Unless the B.H.A. decide to help out and transfer a race of significance to Epsom, which is unlikely, Epsom will have to come up with something eye-popping of its own. The task will be difficult and I have no single stand-out idea to work the oracle. I doubt if anyone has. But here are a few suggestions to start the debate.
Aintree, I believe, should not stage a meeting with at least one race over the National fences, Epsom equally should not stage a meeting without a race with the word ‘Derby’ in its title. The first meeting of the season has a Derby trial and that satisfies the brief. It already has an amateurs Derby and an apprentice Derby, these three races should be boosted in prize-money, especially the Blue Riband trial.
I would add to the list of ‘derbies’, a female professional jockeys Derby, a Derby for veteran horses, seven-years and up, a female amateur riders Derby, a Derby handicap for 3-year-olds, a Derby for jockeys who have not ridden more than 100-winners in their careers, even some kind of Derby consolation race. I am sure others could suggest better Derby ideas.
The ideas above are all mock derbies, of course, with only a vestige of the prestige of the Derby run in June but such inventions would keep Epsom synonymous throughout the season with the one race that matters the most.
My second proposal would be to try to stage 2-year-old races throughout the season specifically aimed at the middle-distance bred horse, the 2-year-old that might develop into a Derby horse as a 3-year-old.
A Derby with ten or less runners is pretty useless for both promoting the sport to a wider public or to boost betting revenue. Epsom should always be looking for twenty-runner fields as was usual for the race when in its hey-day. Unlucky stories may be a disaster for the connections of the impeded but they continue the narrative of the Derby to the rest of the season.
The Derby meeting should not, as has been suggested, be extended beyond 2-days, though they might consider a 3-day summer festival with one of the mock Derbies as a highlight. Racecourse clerks and executives always think festivals should be about quality horses. No, as Ireland proves throughout its season, competitive races is the answer. Galway is the example that should be studied, or Cartmel, not the Punchestown Festival or the D.R.F. If Killarney, Kilbeggan, Ballinrobe or any of the other country festivals can be highlights of the racing year, similarly a summer festival at Epsom might be part of the solution that is being sought. 
Epsom should be synonymous with one type of race and one distance of race.

​I allowed myself the luxury of laziness yesterday and watched the Sunday Series from Newmarket. It was my first time as I am ambivalent to the concept, unable to accept that money can be found for this project, when in reality, it is a Sunday race-meeting very much like any other Sunday race-meeting. And, yes, I fell asleep for the first hour or more, only rousing as they set-off for the race Mythical Guest won. I am old; I need power-naps after I have done my chores. F.Y.I. I had done the ironing, hoovered, washed-up the dishes, watered what goes for our garden and had lunch. Sleep is good for the soul.
Did I enjoy the waking hours following my much-needed forty-plus winks? Not really. I thought it dragged; the Jockey Cup element is less competitive than an egg and spoon race, with a small money-prize, at least for the mega-wealthy jockeys taking part, no doubt an irrelevance to the successful jockey. On this occasion, the likeable but hardly in need of the money, Will Buick took the prize. I suspect, and hope, he might have donated his little windfall to the charity that helps support his son – Downs Syndrone, is it?
To me, the Sunday Series, the intentions of which are laudable, could do with attaching itself to raising funds for charitable causes, whether it is a home charity like the Injured Jockeys Fund or an equine charity or a charity local to the community of the racecourse where the meeting is being held. By all means angle the sport towards people who would not normally choose to attend a race-meeting, while at the same time supporting a charitable cause.
I hold nothing against the Sunday Series, unlike the spurious nonsense that is the team event – can not even remember what it is called – that Matt Chapman gets overly-excited about, I just thought it a long day, with I.T.V.’s presenters having to work like compares in sparkly suits at an unenthralling local talent show, attempting to whip-up interest and excitement that was as lacking as oxygen at the summit of Everest. 
Charlie Johnson, proving he is chip off the old block, has, apparently, taken-up his father’s cause and has pleaded to have racecourses banned, or persuaded to refrain, from watering during the summer months. Young Johnson is as sensible as his father, with the potential to be both equally outspoken and correct with his opinions. 
There are some trainers who would like to go back to the days when ‘hard’ appeared regularly in going descriptions during the summer and autumn months. Back then, hard ground was raced on mainly due to racecourses having no irrigation systems to provide ease in the ground and to encourage grass growth. We must not go back to those days. Horses regularly suffered tendon damage on hard ground, with only a very few horses advantaged by bone-dry ground and who would rack-up long sequences of wins because of it.
We live in, occasionally, more enlightened times, with racecourse management now pressed by the B.H.A. to provide ‘safe’ ground, with good-to-firm the bottom line, though on a warm, breezy day, good-to-firm at the start of play can easily become firm by the third-race, yet meetings are never abandoned due to firm ground that might become as hard as the road by the final race. What racecourses should be pressed to provide is a deep sward of grass, with watering only allowed for this purpose, to take any sting in the ground. At least for flat racing. National Hunt horses need ground with plenty of ease in it, otherwise modern-day trainers will be absenting their horses on the day in large numbers, with the resulting shame of walkovers and a plunge in betting turnover.
As with the whip, watered ground is about public perception crossed with equine welfare. It is bad look to have horses pulling-up lame, especially after the finishing line when all effort has been expended by both jockey and horse, the whip used to eke-out the very last drop.
Perhaps there is merit is some racecourse being allowed dispensation to provide firm ground on a regular basis, with the proviso that there is a good sward of grass to race on. Whether that would become dangerous on the turns due to the grass becoming slick is another matter but I do think study and research should be conducted on the benefits and downfalls – downfalls, I suspect, being possibly the operative word – of lush grass growth and firm ground.
At the moment firming ground has appeared after a long period of soft-to-heavy ground, with trainers declaring on ground with the word soft in it, whilst on the day a warm sun has dried out the top surface, leaving the dilemma as to whether to risk a horse with a preference for ease in the ground. The cautious trainer will always want to save the horse for another day, though sometimes the less knowledgeable owner will high-handedly insist on running.
As always when a Johnson is involved, Charlie, as with his father before him, has a valid point and though racecourses should be allowed to water, a compromise should be established based on scientific study and research.

​Although there is always an element of sadness when news filters through that a fondly-remembered former racehorse has died, to me, at least, there is always a sense of joy if that horse has lived a long life of retirement, as with Native Upmanship who has passed away aged 31. It is a great achievement for those who care for a racehorse if it lives to such a grand age and the staff at Coolmore should be congratulated for their dedication to the care and well-being of not only Native Upmanship but all the retired horses that live out their lives at Ireland’s premier equine establishment.
I will admit I was surprised, and equally delighted, to discover that the Magnier jumpers retire to Coolmore as I thought it was an empire that catered only for the most blue-blooded of thoroughbreds. I might be wrong, but it would not surprise me if Coolmore has an equine cemetery in order to give their former heroes a dignified passing into the world beyond as no stone is ever unturned at Coolmore when it comes to the welfare and respect of its residents.
Harcibald, too, died recently, aged 25. Noel Meade, who trained him to win 5 Grade 1’s, was quoted as saying the horse was treated like a king in retirement, which is a perfectly reasonable aspiration for how all racehorses should live when retired.
The horse racing establishment is finally mandating the principle of horses being cared-for from birth to death by keeping a register of retired horses, going a good distance towards a wardenship to govern where they are kept so their health of the retired herd can be, if loosely, monitored. It is a huge step in the right direction and for greater improvement in this vital aspect of the sport more funds should, one way or another, be made available. In fact, I believe, in the same vein as people who reach their one-hundredth birthday receive a telegram from the monarch, owners and carers of former racehorses that live till their thirtieth year should receive a plaque of recognition from the B.H.A. 
You might argue that vanity might encourage people to keep a horse going for longer than its overall welfare demands just for the recognition of receiving a plaque, though I would contend that people who care for horses, especially elderly horses, always put the horse before themselves and though the odd malefactor will act selfishly, overall that will not be the case.

The past week or so, at Chester and then again at York this week, there has been two incidents that have chilled my heart, two fatalities I found more harrowing that any I have witnessed over jumps for a very long time. Having only seen a replay of the finish of Hidden Law’s first race of the season and then the Chester Vase live on television, I had really fallen for the little horse and thought this was a Godolphin horse the public would take to their hearts. He looked such a battler and at Chester he also displayed true class. Derby favourite. Derby winner, I said to myself as he passed the post, only to have to avert my eyes as William Buick leapt off him as it was clear he had suffered a devastating injury as he pulled-up. I felt sorry for spectators who had to witness such tragedy as Chester is an intimate venue and it would have been impossible for vets and groundstaff to do their jobs in the privacy such a horrible task demanded.
Then in a sprint race at York, a horse formerly trained at Ballydoyle, Hispanic, broke a leg and carried on running until he was caught. A horse running on three legs is, I believe, the most horrible sight imaginable on a racecourse. Neither jockey was injured in either incident, nor was Tom Marquand in the following race at York, when his horse clipped heels and turned a somersault, thankfully rising to his feet uninjured. The jockey rising uninjured, however, never dilutes the chill of witnessing a horse sacrificing its life in pursuit of human entertainment, can never make a good news story out of a tragedy that hits hardest those closest to the horse.
The events at Chester and York put into perspective the disappointment felt by connections to King of Steel suffering an injury that will put him out of action until the autumn. Even if he never runs again, he continues to live and breath and will find gainful employment in the breeding shed at one fancy stud or another.

​Yesterday I sent off a manuscript to a literary agency, more in hope than expectation, forgetting to include the name of the agent I intended to give the ‘honour’ of being the first person to feast their eyes on my proposed book based on the concept that truth should be universally mandated as world law. The manuscript I found easy to write; the form, covering letter, synopsis, wearying to the point of stomach-churning. I had to go for a walk in the rain to regain both perspective and equilibrium. That my effort will go down the toilet, or down the tube of the delete button, due to my own inefficiency, is, at my age and growing senility, par for the course.
The above has nothing to do with the Dante at York or the Derby trials already run but it gives the reader a glimpse of what I must contend with on a daily basis. And, anyway, Lee Mottershead began his summary of the Lingfield trials with a story about having his appendix removed at age 13.
It would as pleasant as a massage if Hector Crouch and Callam Shepherd rode the Oaks and Derby winners this year? What a breath of fresh air that would be? Ralph Beckett’s filly won in nice style, even if the time was on the slow side. And take no notice of those who think Rubies are Red will reverse the form at Epsom. Does anyone think Ryan Moore wanted to be so far behind entering the straight? Didn’t come down the hill at Lingfield; will fall down the hill at Epsom.
One of many things I do not understand about racehorse trainers is when they say, as Ralph Beckett said at Lingfield after the Oaks trial, a horse will come on bundles for the run and yet immediately rules out going for a classic in favour of a race at Royal Ascot. Treasure, I believe, will turn out to be the better filly to have run at Lingfield and would cope with Epsom’s unique topography.
Also, I do not understand Aidan O’Brien running horses in classics that ‘will come on for the run’, as he did in France this weekend. No help to ‘the lads’, I would suggest and placing an enigma within a dark mystery for punters and tipsters.
At latest count, Coolmore have seven-possible Derby horses, Los Angeles, Capulet, Agenda, Grosvenor Square, Diego Velezquez, Capulet and the burst bubble that is City of Troy. As he could be supplemented, I will add the name Highbury to the list as I thought he was the most impressive of Aidan’s recent 3-year-old winners, albeit in a minor maiden.
The betting suggests that the 2024 Epsom Derby is Godolphin verses Coolmore, with Ancient Wisdom and Arabian Crown representing Charlie Appleby. Of course, but for the horror that occurred at Chester, with the fatal injury to the immensely likeable Hidden Law, we would have a different Godolphin horse heading the market. In some ways, after what happened at the end of the Chester Vase, Charlie Appleby deserves to win at Epsom. I hope he does; I hope he doesn’t.
Macduff and Caviar Heights are possible candidates pre the Dante, though I hope come Epsom a new trainer appears on the scroll of honour, as well as new owner and jockey. The trainer has no need to keep his fingers crossed as the horse will, if he gets there, represent him at Epsom, though if I were Callum Shepherd I would keep toes and fingers crossed in case Frankie makes a transatlantic phone call to the Gredley family reminding them of their long friendship, his availability and the need to have an experienced jockey riding for them at Epsom.
Do I fancy Ambiente Friendly? Not at this stage as though his time was close to a track record at Lingfield, I suspect he beat little of importance, even if he won with his head in his chest.
I am tipping a horse that will perhaps be kept for the Irish Derby. But I was impressed by Highbury and if he needed the run to bring him on, he might be the 3-year-old of the season for Coolmore.

Finally, and on a different matter altogether. I am presently re-reading Ivor Herbert’s book ‘The Winter Kings’ and was reminded of one fact, with an add-on that stretches symmetry to the point where one might be forgiven for exclaiming ‘Spooky or what!’ Can I suggest a spiritual passing-on of the banner of true and unarguable greatness.
Golden Miller died the same year Arkle was born at Ballymacoll Stud, then owned by Dorothy Paget, who owned Golden Miller during his illustrious career and who I was relieved to find out ensured he had a long and happy retirement.

​My understanding of the world of finance is equal to my knowledge of the streets of Kazakhstan’s capitol, Alma-Ata, and I not 100% certain I have the name of the capitol city correct. So, any reference or opinion I make to money, finance and institutions concerned mainly with the making and distribution of money should be viewed for what they are – ignorance defeating instinct by technical knockout.
When the proposal by Peter Savill, owner these days of Plumpton racecourse and once upon a time head honcho at the B.H.B., the forerunner of the B.H.A., to follow football, rugby and nearly every other major sport in this country and attach the word ‘Premier’ to our top race meetings, instinct told me it would not provide the benefits hoped for it. And ‘hope’ ruled the roost as the proposal was adopted, though severely tinkered-with and adjusted, by the B.H.A. I suspect the leaders of racing’s stakeholders were all suffering from muscle fatigue after all the arm-wrestling and twisting during the many meetings that lead to agreement on the new way forward. They all ‘hoped’ and I, at least, hoped I would be proved wrong, as I am on too many occasions these days.
As we know, the hope was that Premier fixtures – I have given up on the word ‘premierisation’ – would right the ship from uncompetitive racing, failing attendance at racecourses (mainly due to the cost-of-living crisis) increase betting turnover, preventing the export of top-rated horses to far-flung places and boosting prize-money, which is being achieved at the expense of race-meetings that represent the foundations of the sport.
Flying in the face of reason, the great leap forward began on January 1st at Cheltenham with no fanfare, virtually no signage and no explanation to racegoers as to how Cheltenham’s traditional New Year’s Day fixture in 2024 varied from all the New Year’s Day fixtures that had preceded it. And that has set the tone up until this very day as though Premier Racing has a logo it has only a minimal marketing budget.
What the B.H.A. failed to grasp is that though football’s Premier League concept is successful worldwide, during the season there are only a handful of matches that can be honestly described as being out-of-the-ordinary or premier. Luton v Sheffield United would not be one of them. Nor would Notts Forest v Burnley. Throwing money at a Musselburgh handicap does not magically turn it from a competitive and worthy horse race into premier status on a par with the Epsom Derby.
I have flipped from hating the idea of premier racing due to the ‘have and have-not’ status it implies, to thinking that there was a grain of a good idea within the concept, to where I stand now – wishing it would go away and leave the sport alone. Since I.T.V. won the contract to broadcast racing on terrestrial t.v. premier racing has thrived without any need for re-branding. Ed Chamberlain and I.T.V. have been brilliant for the sport, especially during the ‘covid years’. Unfortunately, Ed and his gang’s on the front foot contribution to marketing the sport has not been matched by racing’s stakeholders.
The only races that need to be protected from the overkill of races being run at the same time at other racecourse are the genuine premier races, the classics, Grade 1’s and Group 1’s, the major handicaps with long histories. Supporting races do not need such protection. With big screens at racecourses, racing all over the country could halt for sixty-minutes to allow a build-up to the Derby, for instance, and for a period afterwards for reflection, t.v. interviews and replays. The limited marketing budget used to promote races of international prestige.
As for the latest ‘big idea’ to come from the B.H.A. – taking ownership rights for the country’s premier races away from the racecourses where they are held, to give to a new company that could then source a global sponsor with a marketing budget the sport can only dream-of – smacks of selling the family jewels to a friend of a friend who knows someone of influence in high foreign places who might or might not be involved in human rights violations but on the whole is a nice guy who can be trusted implicitly to do right by us.
Some thing needs to be done, of course. Perhaps Baldric has a cunning plan that does not involve turnips. Otherwise, a scenario might pan out where the Ascot straight mile is one day used for growing turnips and other agricultural practices. 

​The views and ideas I express on this site are honestly felt, even if, in time, my opinions may change. Also, although I can be radical at times with the ideas I put forward, I am also aware that I can come across naïve if compared to the work of professional journalists, especially the expert commentators who work at the Racing Post. Occasionally, as proved by the Post’s guest columnists in yesterday’s edition, Simon Bazalgette and David Thorpe, my lack of knowledge on a subject can allow my comments to attract ridicule. 
I have recently re-read Tim Fitzgeorge-Parker’s 1968 publication ‘The Spoilsports. What Is Wrong With British Racing’, a well-written, and at the time, thoroughly researched dive into why British racing lagged behind other horse racing countries in funding and infrastructure. Comparing Fitzgeorge-Parker’s views in 1968 and the state of British horse racing in 2024, it is fair to say that not much has changed in that Britain still lags behind other countries when it to general funding and especially overall prize-money.
Fitzgeorge-Parker had no doubt the problems he wrote about in 1968 were due to the sport refusing to accept that the only solution was to follow the example of countries funded by some sort of Tote Monopoly. Now, after reading the Bazalgetter/Thorpe column, all that has changed is that, I believe, in the shadows of the sport it is accepted that a Tote Monopoly would be a good way to go if only it had not been nationalised and sold off in 2011 to Betfred. An example of the British government acting in its own best interests in the wake of world financial chaos.
Where I erred in my strong belief that some sort of Tote Monopoly should be reconsidered, with the oft-used phrase ‘that ship has sailed’ laid to rest for the sake of the sport, is in not referencing Britbet, which is a pseudo-type Tote and through its inclusion in the World Pool brings a large amount of revenue to the sport.
The major stumbling block to ensuring the sport’s future funding is, as always, the self-protectionism of all the individual factions that make up horse-racing’s bodily structure, with bookmakers only batting for themselves, racecourses likewise and so on and so on. I suspect only at the 11th-hour of the 11th day will all parties come together to achieve a cobbled solution to keeping the sport afloat; a solution that will be based on cut, cut and cut again, saving the premier at the expense of the minnow.
The B.H.A. are no help in the matter as its members seem to believe that as long as prize-money is doubled or trebled at Royal Ascot, York, Ascot and other high-profile festivals all will be good and the sport saved, with little or no thought given to how the smaller racecourses, trainers, jockeys and owners might survive if or when the sport goes belly-up. Bread and butter, I would suggest, can sustain the majority, while caviar, champagne and fancy French cuisine will only make fat the social elite.
So, although I may have been off the mark in previous forays into this subject, my overall opinion that some form of Tote Monopoly is the only sure way to proceed in raising the revenue required to kick-start British racing’s return, if not to the top, to equality with other racing nations, I accept that Britbet may be the baby step required to eventual success.
Of course, what is wanted is for all individual portions of racing’s stakeholders to row in the same direction and experience assures us that is unlikely as Willie Mullins showing mercy to his rivals by running only one of his horses in any one race.
As someone who is more enthusiast than expert, I believe the best solution is for bookmakers to only be able to trade on-course, though allowed to trade on the High Streets on other sports, whilst acting as agents for a horse-racing owned Tote. But then again, I may be wrong.

​If you think about it, being a jockey is a mad profession to choose when there are so many other less dangerous and more rewarding ways to earn a living. Imagine what a careers advisor would say to your teenage son or daughter when told ‘I’m going to be a jockey when I leave school. I have a pony already.’ Broken bones followed by broken dreams is what most careers advisors would point out in a pointless attempt to direct the child towards university education or a job within the manufacturing industry. 
A career advisor, on assessing the survey I had filled out, thought I should consider selling as a career. I do not care for buying much, so selling stuff I had no interest in would hold very little interest to me. Anyhow, I have found so many other ways to waste whatever abilities I might have had.
We, as enthusiasts or bettors, owe the brave men and women who go between the white rails day after day to entertain and enthral us, and, of course, to earn the fee that pays their bills, a debt we can never repay, though we can respect them. We must never forget that jockeys are flesh and blood, with mortgages to pay, cars to run and children to educate. It is so easy to criticise when sat in a comfy armchair in front of a warm fire, with a mug of tea in your hand. Gambling adds so much spice to the sport that a non-gambler like myself has no right to say that betting slips are harmful to evaluative thinking.
Not that you need to bet regularly to skew thought processes. I have never come within a hundred-miles of either Jack Kennedy or Paul Townend and I am not even Irish by birth or heritage, yet I desperately wanted Kennedy to become champion jockey. Not because I do not respect or have anything against Townend, it was just that he had already won the Champion Hurdle, Cheltenham Gold Cup, Grand National, plus the majority of Grade 1’s in both Ireland and Britain and enough was enough. Kennedy has suffered more broken bones in his comparatively short career to sustain a fracture clinic all on his own, and he had finished second to Townend in the Champion Hurdle, Cheltenham Gold Cup and the Grand National, plus a zillion other races during his career. He deserved to be champion jockey and I hope he retains the trophy next season.
As an aside, Paul Townend had a 38% winning percentage in Ireland last season. There should be a trophy for best winning percentage as even riding for Willie Mullins that is some achievement. The highest profile job comes with an expectation of achievement and that must come with pressure to succeed and more opportunities to cock-it-up, yet Townend rarely gets anything wrong. We all thought Ruby Walsh would be an impossible act to follow, yet Townend has made it look as easy as shelling peas.
The mad aspect of the Irish racing scene is that a jockey who rides mainly in bumpers can finish fourth in the championship, finishing above the loveliness and talent of Rachael Blackmore. Patrick Mullins may be the greatest amateur rider in history, or he may not be, after all he rarely throws his leg over a ‘dodgy one’, and also a mega and multi-talented communicator of the sport, with riches at his disposal that would tempt a saint to the sin of envy, yet should he be finishing in front of so many of Ireland’s top professionals? Given that Irish jockeys have far fewer opportunities in Ireland when compared to their colleagues in Britain, I would suggest half of their bumper races should be opened-up to professionals, even if restricted to professionals that are still claiming an allowance. Sorry Patrick, I even want to take the National Hunt Chase at Cheltenham away from amateurs!
On the domestic front, though pleased for her, personally I find it disappointing and not a little heartbreaking that Bryony Frost has had to make the decision to take her career to France in order to chase greater opportunities. Paul Nicholl’s has, apparently, asked her to return to Ditcheat in October, though now she is to be Simon Munir and Isaac Souede’s retained rider in France there is every possibility her appearances on British racecourses will become few and far between. Of course, the deciding factor in offering Bryony the job was the rather patronising 2Ib allowance female riders receive in France to encourage connections to give greater opportunities to the fairer sex, but it also seems a bit daft giving someone of Bryony’s success and experience an advantage over leading male jockeys. The 2Ib, apparently, does not apply to graded races.
I will miss Bryony, especially through the quiet months of summer, though I hope she career choice is successful and proves to all those trainers and owners who might have supported her what they have missed out on. She was our golden communicator, yet British racing decided to sideline her. Is it any wonder our sport is limping alone while in other racing jurisdictions it thrives?
I cross my fingers that the Racing Post takes an interest in her progress in France and allows its readers, and Bryony admirers, to know how she is getting on. A ‘Big Read’ feature on a Sunday would be appreciated, if she should grant the Racing Post the privilege!