Cheltenham: Day THREE.

​I am old, sir, very ancient indeed and my fascination and love of the sport began when I was a child of small numbers. I remember Jimmy Frost when he was an up and coming jockey. I remember ‘Grandstand’ and the old television camera with a race from Ascot in the opening credits. And in all those decades of devotion to the sport there has never been a better advertisement for racing than Bryony Frost. Anyone who can go on social media with any negative comment about her must be in need of getting a life. No one in the history of the sport has ever portrayed to the media and the public the thrill or race-riding better or with more passion than Miss Frost. But what she does best, what is so refreshing about her, is that she is not shy at telling the world that she loves horses. She is also a damn fine rider and I doubt if any horse has had a better ride than the one she gave Frodon, even if she will insist that their victory in the Ryanair was all down to the horse and all she was doing was hanging on.
Of course, all talk of her becoming champion jockey is ridiculous. I doubt if she cares, for one thing and if the stable jockey at Ditcheat can’t get within fifty winners of Richard Johnson what chance someone who will probably never get the chance to be anyone’s stable jockey? What Bryony might achieve, though, is to win one of jumping’s classic races and that would be achievement enough. Already the sport is in debt to her, and to Paul Nicholl’s for both his belief in her and for the masterly way he has managed her career thus far.
The girl I feel sorry for is Lizzie Kelly. Why she gets no outside rides staggers me. Perhaps it has to do with personality as it cannot have anything to do with riding ability as the ride she gave Siruh Du Lac could not have been bettered by any of the senior male jockeys. She is not exactly an asset going to waste as her parents supply her with plenty of opportunities but she is definitely an underused resource.
The day was inspirational for reasons other than Frost and Kelly. Paisley Park, or at least his remarkable owner, added to the wonder and emotion of the day. People like Andrew Gemmell humble me. Apart from an all-round lack of talent and a knack bordering genius for falling short in all matters, I have no disability or impairment, yet while I languish amongst the spiritual unfulfilled, Mr.Gemmell makes light of his limitations by travelling the world to watch great sporting events. And because he sets himself no limits, he now owns not only a Cheltenham winner but a winner of one of the top races in the National Hunt calendar. I salute you, sir, and I hope Paisley Park brings you more joy over the coming seasons.
French-breds, by the way, won five out of the seven races yesterday, adding to the six from the previous two days. The British v Irish dual should really be French-breds v Irish and British breds, not that many Cheltenham winners these days hail from our shores. Apart from my dislike of horses with French language names – you may think I am just being xenophobic but wait a few years and see how easily it will be to extract from your memory the winners of the big races (Espoir D’Allen was it or Envoir D’Allen?  Defi Du Seuil or was it Eglantine Du Seuil?) – this is no big problem, except that in time the British-bred horses might end up on an extinction list. There really needs to be an incentive put in place to get breeders to produce more home-grown horses.
The downer yesterday was the announcement that the weighing room is about to lose Noel Fehily from its number. I hope he is given a fitting sending off by both his colleagues and the sport in general. A great jockey and by all accounts, a man of integrity and wisdom.