names that paint hazy pictures of a bygone youth.

​I have just finished reading Michael Tanner’s history of the Champion Hurdle ‘From Blaris to Istabraq’, names from which you will easily deduce that this is a book in desperate need of a second volume. Istabraq, dear reader, which hardly seems possible, won his third Champion Hurdle in the year 2000. Of course, if Foot and Mouth had not rose from its murky underworld to decimate farming in 2001, there seems little doubt he would be remembered as the only 4-time winner of the race.
The following is an amble down a distinctly dodgy memory lane, mainly consisting of names, as in my formative years horses were merely that, names. Did I even consider they were flesh and blood? I doubt I even realised back then that they might be injured during a race or worse, of course. I was cognizant about jockeys but I doubt if I could put a name to a single face of a trainer or even realised that trainers existed. And as for owners … But let’s not dwell on the ignorance of youth.
The 1960 winner of the Champion Hurdle was Another Flash, ridden by my boyhood hero, Bobby Beasley, who, as it turned out was both a genius horseman and an alcoholic. At the time, though, he, too, was just a name in the fantasies of boyhood. 1960 is just before my time as a racing fan. I was six in 1960 and six-year-olds know nothing, nothing worth knowing about, anyway. I certainly do not remember anything about my life aged six, or even aged seven. It is almost like I wasn’t really alive back then.
I think I remember Another Flash from when he finished third in 1962, behind Anzio and Quelle Chance. When I was eight and for years after, I was fascinated by grey horses and my sorrow at Bobby Beasley not winning was made up for as Anzio was grey, or roan according to Michael Tanner’s book.
Although in 1963 there were horses down the field that I recall, Stirling, Height O’Fashion (who was once to finish in front of Arkle) Pawnbroker and Moonsun, it was for what they achieved later in life as chasers, I have no recollection of the actual race.
In 64 (when Another Flash was 2nd to Magic Court) the name Kirriemuir entered my world, finishing third, with notable horses of the like of London Gazette, Salmon Spray and Wilhelmina Henrietta down the field. Pat McCarron rode Magic Court, by the way, not that I could claim to know he had won the Champion Hurdle, a man all but only remembered for his association with Freddie, twice 2nd in the Grand National.
Kirriemuir won the race in 65 at 50/1, beating a horse better known as a sire of jumpers, Spartan General, with the Queen Mothers’ Worcran 3rd. I believe Worcran finished his days with one of the army’s horse brigades, doing duty as a drum-horse on changing of the guard. The American horse Exhibit A was down the field that day.
The 1966 renewal saw Salmon Spray beat Sempervivum and the horse I would argue is the greatest horse ever to contest a Champion Hurdle, the immortal (or at least he should be) Flyingbolt, a horse no less a person than Ted Walsh thought superior to Arkle. Pat Taaffe disagreed, believing even Mill House was better than Flyingbolt. Burlington, Robber Baron, Makaldar and Tamerosia were also-rans, as was Spartan General.
Saucy Kit won in 67, beating the Queen Mothers’ Makaldar and Talgo Abbess, a name that completely escapes me, though I remember Beaver, Sir Thopas, Aurelius, Johns-Wort, Rackham, Specify (went on to win the Grand National), Samothraki and New Liskeard. They may have been of little account, yet for some unearthly reason their names continue resonate with me.
1968 and for the following two years the first great Champion Hurdle winner since Sir Ken came on the scenes, Persian War, who coincidentally has a race named after him at Chepstow in two-days ( October 9th ). He beat Chorus and Black Justice in 68, with Inyanga and Commander-in-Chief (not the Derby winner) in arrears. In 69 he beat Drumikill and Privy Seal, with the second-greatest horse to contest a Champion Hurdle amongst the also rans, L’Escargot (Grand National and two-time Gold Cup victor), as well as Into View, Supermaster, Tanlic and England’s Glory. In 1970 the horses that followed Persian War home were Major Rose and another horse of the Queen Mum’s Escalus, with Coral Diver and Normandy following on.
In 71 Persian War lost his crown to Bula, making him the closest any horse has come to being a four-time champion hurdler since the inception of the race in 1927.
As a child, even aged sixteen in 1970, horse racing was a wonderful, mesmeric mystery to me. Back then I could recite Derby winners going back to the last century, something I cannot do today. I struggle to remember last year’s Derby winner, let alone who won in 1934. At no stage did I have visions of being a jockey or even learning to ride. But I always wanted to be a cog in the wheel of the sport. Still do, decades later. Still dream of owning a horse.
My obsession with horse names stems from the sixties. Horses were the heroes of the sport, as they remain, and it pains me to see famous names replicated today, feeling at my heart that the names of fondly-remembered horses drawn from memory should be honoured by having their name die with them and not recirculated as if the English and foreign languages were somehow depleted and possible names not as plentiful as the stars in the universe.
I believe my life-long love of horse racing began not with Arkle or Mill House but with Another Flash, forgotten by many, I suspect, and a horse I know very little about. Strange how life-long obsessions can begin, isn’t it?