AU REVOIR, SIR ALASTAIR.

​One of the reasons I purchase The Racing Post on a daily basis, even though it should be beyond my budget, is now taken from me. (Sir) Alastair Down is no longer on the pay-roll. His wit, wisdom, in-depth love of the sport, the great alchemy that is his way with our language, will no longer appear on a weekly basis. When I read his short notice of resignation, his farewell to his admiring readers, it was like reading his epitaph. Let’s be honest about it, if he is not going to write for the Racing Post he is, to all extent and purposes, dead to us.
He will, though, it seems be making a phoenix-like comeback in the autumn, writing four pieces a month. Why this period of mourning between now and then it is yet to be announced. The great man has said the parting is amicable, almost ‘serene’.
 I hope he is intends to turn his attention to writing a memoir or a book on one of the great racing subjects, though it might be a book on the 1st or 2nd World War, he does have a fixation for the Somme and iconic fighter planes made out of sail-cloth, wood and held together by string and glue rather than rivets. Perhaps Brough Scott’s wonderful book on Winston Churchill has inspired him to employ a researcher and to come out as a legit biographer. ‘The Life and Times of the Aga Khan’, perhaps. A biography of J.P. McManus? I would buy that. I would buy any book he wrote.
My fear is that this parting is more to do with the Post cutting costs as it tries to edge somewhere close to making profit. A writer of Alastair’s originality and brilliance cannot come cheap, a six-figure annual salary, I would guess. Or perhaps Alastair feels restricted by having his services contracted to one outlet and in his declining years wishes to spread his wings and seek out other avenues for his imaginative prose. Perhaps he will soon be announced as the racing correspondence for The Times or, if the real money is downmarket, The Daily Mail. Freelancing may be the future for all of the staff at The Racing Post, with Alastair’s departure the editor’s way of issuing a shot across the bows, or desks, of his surviving columnists.
Certainly, the always excellent Tom Kerr has to step up to the mark as the paper’s leading columnist. He is a marvellous writer, of the modern kind. His articles are always flawless, though without the idiosyncrasy of Alastair, and he does sort of major in the politics of racing, whereas Alastair is very much at the reporter at the blood and thunder end of the sport.
All of the Post’s writers are excellent in their own way. My criticism has always been the lack of a female voice, an issue that over the past few weeks Bruce Millington has started to address. Perhaps the gap left by Alastair’s departure will be filled by a female columnist. I hope so as I warned Mr.Millington – he didn’t answer my e-mail, he never does – long ago that in this world of equality he would rue having an all-male front-line at the paper.
For whatever reason, going back to Bruce Millington, he did have a minion answer on his behalf an e-mail I sent him asking how the sport could get Alastair a knighthood. The ennobling I have served on him just does not do him justice. I am quite sure Her Majesty reads his column and would not hesitate to sharpen and polish the sword on his behalf. Sir Alastair Down, it has such clear and indefatigable ring to it, doesn’t it?
I have actually spoken with Alastair, though I doubt he will remember. We share nostalgia for names of the past and I have several times asked, pleaded and begged him, or any of his erstwhile colleagues, to back my idea for a cherished list of horses’ names. A wall of honour, if you like. Names that should die with the horses that made their names famous to the sport. Over the years I have had several letters in the racing papers on the subject, The Sporting Life and The Racing Post, and after one such letter, out of the blue one evening, the great man rang me to discuss the matter. He may have been drunk, I don’t’ know. He has suggested once or twice that he enjoys a drink now and again. And when I suggested that the name Rondetto might get re-used any day now he seemed dismayed. As the name has not yet appeared in a race-card he may have had a word in the ear of the suit who manages these things. He is Alastair Down. He must have influence, surely.
I have his number in my phone book, though I haven’t dared ring him. It may be out-of-date. Probably is. But I shall keep it nonetheless as it has his name against it and if I was of a mind to I could prove friendship by asking any naysayer ‘why would I have his personal phone number if we were not the best of buddies?’
Read his prose is the closest I will ever get to being his buddy. Those who are his buddy, are lucky so-and-so’s. They are friends with the greatest writer of racing.
Roll on November.