in memory of frankie durr

​Jockeys come; jockeys go. Some you remember fondly, some you forget. I dare say if a certain jockey rides you a 50/1 winner when you were on your uppers, you’ll remember him till the moment of your last breath. I’ve never backed a 50/1 winner so my favourite jockeys are not based on pecuniary improvement. Occasionally when reading a name from the past will come up and intrigue me enough to prompt me to indulge in a little research. Frankie Durr is a case in point.
He was prominent in the jockeys’ table at a time when my interest in the flat was equal to National Hunt. Not so, these days, sadly. I can’t say why he was never high on my list of favoured jockeys. Ignorance on my part, quite likely. I suspect back then, the middle sixties/early seventies, when I was young and could not conceive of the notion that I might not know enough about the sport to have such strong opinions on nearly aspect of the game, I perhaps thought him undistinguished, and old. Even now all the photographs of him show him as wrinkled. And although he never rode my favourite horses in the early sixties he was associated with one of my favourite all-time horses from the flat, Trelawney. He also rode Commander-in-Chief, not the Derby winner of that name but the Jubilee Handicap winner.
Just for the record and do his memory justice, he rode the winner of the 2,000 Guineas twice, Mon Fils in 1973 and Roland Gardens in 1978 and also won the St.Leger twice on Sodium in 1966 and Peleid in 1973. Everyone one an outsider. But it was the big handicaps which were his forte.
If he were riding today, I would respect him to greater effect than I did when he was alive. He refused to ride at evening meetings as he wanted time to be with his family and on account of hating driving, he rarely rode far from home. Today he would be considered eccentric and there is nought wrong with peaceful eccentricity.
He was also an advocate for sparing the whip. He had a saying which he oft repeated to apprentices who rode for him. ‘The horse is first. It’s second, third and fourth.’ As with Bryony Frost today, Frankie Durr maintained that no jockey was great, it was the horse that made them great.
‘The first principle in getting the best out of a horse is to be kind to it.’ Was also one of his guiding principles. I hope this is the first piece of advice given to every youngster that attends the various racing schools. It is because use of the whip is perceived by the public as being unkind to the horse that the role of the whip in race-riding is so controversial. 
He also would not have a horse hit. Long after his death I am beginning to like him more and more.
He advised his apprentices to study the horses they might ride, telling them that in a year a horse grows seven times more than they do. He would tell him, usually illustrating his teaching with images and stories to make his point more succinct, that a small horse takes shorter strides than a bigger horse and advised them that if they are riding a small horse they should always be on the inside rail as going the shortest way round will compensate for the extra strides a small horse must take in comparison to bigger horses.
Frankie Durr was a thorough professional. He knew the rules of riding and knew how to go within a centimetre of breaking them. ‘If there’s a gap early in the race, take it. But only go half-a-length in front of the other two. If a jockey follows you through, he ends up in a pocket and that will make his horse shorten its stride and hold him back.’
He was also a big one for studying wind direction, always advising his apprentices to keep tucked in till the last moment before making a forward move when the wind is in the faces of the horses. And the direction grass is cut was also important, wanting his horses galloped in the direction of the cut, not against it. He was a man for seeking out every small advantage possible. I dare say it is why he was so successful throughout his riding career in the big competitive handicaps.
The small amount of research I have done of him leaves me in doubt that he was a thoroughly professional jockey and trainer. It was why he rode for most of the top owners and trainers of his day, believing that with horses and racing you could never acquire too much knowledge. It is a lesson for all us. Certainly it is a lesson I should have learned long ago.
It seems unfair that a man who was fit and active all his life, who regularly played golf in retirement, should be admitted into hospital with something as trivial as a nose-bleed and yet not return home.