​There is more to take from the shake-up at the Professional Jockeys Association than simply the change in the lead characters. To me, it is blueprint for how the board at the British Horseracing Authority should be comprised.
The complaint many of the jockeys cited against its former Head Man, Ian Mahon, former professional footballer, was his ‘absenteeism’ when it came to talking with the membership over important changes to the rules of racing that impacted on jockeys and that he didn’t ‘speak the language’ of the sport, that he was an outsider who needed a translator to better understand the subtle and sometimes complex nuances of the sport.
The term ‘speaking the language’ resonated with me. If you, as with myself, have ‘spoke the language’ for most of your lives, talking with someone with a burgeoning interest in the sport, or someone you meet socially and has asked what your interest in life is, it can be similar to speaking with someone from another country. And you, of course, can come across as if you have a very broad regional accent that mangles the English language. Even the word ‘furlong’ can need explanation.
This, in a nutshell, is my problem with how the B.H.A. is set-up. I am in no way critical of Julie Harrington or any of her predecessors and horse racing is both a sport and an industry, which makes it very different to other sport’s management authorities. And that is the point, the nub of my argument. I dare say Julie Harrington has learned a good deal of the horse racing ‘language’, yet she is more than halfway through her tenure at the B.H.A. How much of her time at the helm of the sport was she ‘catching-up’, in need of a ‘translator’?
The new ‘board’ at the P.J.A., fronted until a permanent successor to Ian Mahon can be appointed, by Dale Gibson, former jockey and someone who, seemingly, has the support of the membership. Why not appoint him on a permanent basis? Experience, speaks the language, up-to-speed with past issues! Henry Brooke, Neil Callan, Tom Marquand, Andrew Mullen, Jonjo O’Neill and Tabatha Worsley make-up a diverse and vastly experienced committee, alongside David Bass and Nick Attenborough, who has great experience within the sport as he has worked at Great British Racing, the British Racing School and Sandown Park.
Whether as a committee they will always sing from the same hymn-sheet will be discovered sometime in the near-future, I imagine. Initially, though, they will reform the association into a shape that best suits the needs of their colleagues. Although the main gripe, as I understand it, with jockeys had with Ian Mahon, Jon Holmes, etc, was their views on the whip and the closure of racecourse saunas were either ignored or circumvented. The tears in the fabric of the association were stimulated, though, by what will become known as ‘the infamous abuse case of Frost v Dunne’; a sorry tale that damaged the reputation of both the P.J.A. and the sport.
Looking in from the outside it was apparent the P.J.A. had an issue with this case and that ‘issue’ was more important to them than defending one of their members who was being intimidated by a senior member of the weighing-room. All that was needed for the situation to be prevented from becoming a story for the national newspapers to get their teeth into was for the P.J.A., and not necessarily the pen-pushing executive members, though certainly David Bass, to have taken Dunne to one side and told him he would be thrown out of the P.J.A. if he didn’t change his attitude towards another member of the association. Even if Dunne was correct in his criticism of Frost, a problem no one else had ever highlighted, he was wrong to think he was the one who could remedy the situation.
I believe Dunne’s problem was brought about by jealousy. I would hope the new ‘board’ would be quicker to snip such buds of potential embarrassment for the sport with more immediacy when and if they occur in the future. Jockeys work with danger every day of their working lives, as fanatics of the sport we owe them big-time and I, personally, am in awe of their bravery and skills. 
Robbie Dunne let down the P.J.A., the sport and fans of the sport, yet, seemingly, the P.J.A. wanted, in the first instance, to protect him and suggested his victim should keep quiet. I may be wrong in that summary, but it is the view I gained from reading newspaper reports on the issue. I would hope the new broom at the P.J.A. sweeps clean the past mistakes and they represent fairly and with integrity every single one of their members and without favouritism. 
I would also hope when it next comes to appointing the next person to head-up the B.H.A. is that the new incumbent can ‘speak the language’ from day one of his or her occupancy of the position. 

​I suppose the sport won the ‘battle of Epsom Downs’, though it might be described as a pyric victory; a victory for the iron-fist of a court injunction. The precedent of having to go to the High Court to ensure a sporting event takes place without interruption by people protesting an issue for the purpose of gaining publicity and news coverage is a precipice of unimaginable financial cost. Lawful, peaceful protest, must not be lost in a country of true democracy, yet the activists of Stop Oil and Animal Rising could easily become the excuse for governments around the world to ban all forms of protest. In their ignorance, Animal Rising may well be facilitating ‘the need for an act of parliament’.
The sight of armed police at a British racecourse was quite chilling. Epsom Derby Day is usually a pretty picture of British people at play, a throwback to the time when the Derby stopped, if not a nation, at least, the capital city of that nation. Indeed, Epsom on Derby Day always used to remind me of the origins of the sport when horse racing truly did mingle with ‘all the fun of the fair’ on important festival days in local calendars. Yesterday’s scene was far removed from a ‘pretty picture’ with security fencing, men and women in high-vis tabards and a regiment of police on high alert for anyone wearing a pink t-shirt. The triumph in Ed Chamberlain’s voice came across as hollow as a brandy snap where I was lounging. 
I remain convinced that if I.T.V. gave Animal Rising a ten-minute platform to air their aims, the public would see through them. Viewers watching I.T.V. will contain a high number with a dog or dogs at their feet, cats on many laps and parrots and cockatoos making themselves known in the background. Veganism verges on the evil, when taken to the extreme views of Animal Rising. In truth, it is not people who must rethink their association with animals but society rethinking their association with extremists intent on pressurising government into actions that benefit no one and, in this instance, will make extinct not only the thoroughbred racehorse but all varieties of cats and dogs. If veganism was natural, our ancestors would have been purely fruit-eaters and lions, tigers and crocodiles would be seen in petting zoos alongside rabbits and goats. I, by the way, eat very little meat and our oven would be mystified to have beef, lamb or pork to cook.

The Derby itself was interesting, wasn’t it? I am still to be convinced that Auguste Rodin is a world-beater, though his victory should be taken on-board by trainers too quick to rule out Derby bids just because their ‘big hope’ runs below expectation in a trial. It should be remembered, albeit his legendary status is beyond dispute, that Aidan is not always right when he ‘bigs’ up a Ballydoyle horse. Australia comes to mind, and though Auguste Rodin is now a Derby winner, I wouldn’t go mad on him coming out of Epsom as the best horse in the race as King of Steel looked positively burly in the parade ring and if Kevin Stott could ride his race again, he would, I suspect, hold on to him a little longer as he gave Ryan Moore the perfect lead into the final furlong. There is only natural improvement to come from Auguste Rodin, whereas King of Steel has both natural improvement and an improvement in fitness as a benefit over the next few months. Roger Varian is a stellar trainer but no one, I would contend, could get a 17-hand, 3-year-old colt, absolutely spot-on to the extent it could win a Derby. He might was, perhaps, 95% ready but not the 100% of Auguste Rodin.
Isn’t it time British trainers studied Aidan’s way with his horses? He doesn’t mind them being beaten if they come out of their races in better shape and having learned from the experience. His horses run and run. He achieves long seasons with his 3-year-olds especially as he doesn’t overtrain them early in the season and allows for natural progression. Yes, he has a battalion of purple-bred horses at his disposal, yet, even at Ballydoyle, the percentage of Group 1 horses is quite small. Look at a ‘Horses in Training’ from past years and you’ll see names of horses that are unfamiliar, that never came close to achieving a place in peoples’ memories. The man truly is a walking legend.
The other horse to take out of the Derby this year might be Artistic Star who stayed on like a top stayer for the future. When, and if, White Birch matures, he could improve leaps and bounds as at the moment he leaves his potential entangled with his unstable behaviour.
A very interesting Derby spoiled by the long anticipation of ignorant and selfish protest. It could have been worse, though, couldn’t it?

​The Epsom Derby is 1-mile & 4-furlongs long. Alas, the story of Derby Day 2023 will take far longer to tell. 
It is a mad world when in order to do all that is possible to stage a legal event, land owners must fork-out five or six-figure sums of money to seek a court injunction against people who by simply stepping onto your land are breaking the law. Animal Rising have publicly informed the authorities of their intention to break the law today. The threat has been communicated on social media and carried by national newspapers. Yet nothing, seemingly, can be done in anticipation of the threat until the perpetrators have committed the unlawful act. As things stand, given the large acreage of Epsom Downs is common land and the softly-softly approach of the police, I cannot see how there will not be disruption to the Derby, can you?
I think the tactics of the police would be markedly different if the threat was against government property or a direct threat against the King’s property. I am afraid the truth is, as proved by the softly-softly approach to ‘Stop Oil’ protests – you need to drive an electric car for 100,000 miles, by the way, to get it to net zero given they are built using power from nuclear power-stations – out-of-control protests will be used by our government in the near future to cut a swathe through our freedom to protest peacefully or otherwise about anything. It is good publicity for their future aims to allow people in pink shirts to be seen on prime-time television climbing security fencing, fighting the police and disrupting public life.
That said. 
The B.H.A. made the wrong call in deciding to run the Derby at 1.30. They have known since before the disruption to the Grand National that Epsom, too, would be targeted by Animal Rising and yet put the financial gain of the World Pool before the safety of horses, jockeys and members of the public. The discretionary move, at least this time around, would have been to stage the race during the F.A. Cup Final, with a replay of the race shown either at half-time at Wembley or after the game, denying the protestors the limelight of a maximum amount of exposure to the maximum number of viewers.
By the by. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if the F.A.Cup Final is not interrupted through invasion by Stop Oil or Animal Rising protestors. 
It is time to stand firm. I hope Ed Chamberlain informs I.T.V. viewers of the large number of people employed directly or indirectly by the horse racing industry. Horse racing is a diverse society. It is not an entertainment for the mega-rich. It is not an upper-class sport. Horse racing is very much a working-class sport. Flat jockeys in particular tend to originate from working-class families, though more and more it seems our leading jockeys are sons of former jockeys. I doubt if anyone in the country, working in any industry, works a similar number of hours per week that a leading or workaday jockey must do.
But this issue is not about jockeys or owners but the equine stars of the show. I once had a letter published in either the Sporting Life or the Racing Post – I have a copy somewhere but you know time and bother – suggesting that the first rule of the sport should be the horse comes first. This was at a time when handicappers were campaigning to have all horses ridden out to the winning post irrespective if they were likely to be in the money or tailed-off. No one, seemingly, supported me as no letters for or against were later published.
All through the whip debate, there seemed little support for banning use of the whip altogether. Yet this is issue is the stick our objectors use to beat us with most frequently. Frankie Dettori is rightly spoken-of as one the world’s great jockeys. As is Ryan Moore. Yet both use their whips sparingly. It is body-strength and horsemanship that wins the day with both of them. Yet the sport decides to go with six aesthetically-pleasing strikes.
Charlotte Jones received a 12-ban at Cartmel for mistaking the winning post. Pat Cosgrave got a 28-day ban for stopping riding before the winning line and being pipped at the post. Yet jockeys still receive shorter bans for a whip offence. Right or wrong, the issue is how the public view the discrepancy. This is about the public licence to continue as a sport.
I have absolutely no doubt that racehorses are the best cared-for animals in this country. I cannot comment with honesty on the situation in other countries. Can the sport do more? Of course, it can, yet, criminally, we are always on the backfoot, playing catch-up. Horses will die on racecourses, on the gallops, while turned-out at grass and sometimes even in the comparative safety of their stable. Yet I know that as soon as a horse requires the attention of a vet all that can possibly be done to heal the injury or cure the illness is done promptly without recourse to thoughts of cost. 
There is so much cruelty and neglect in this world, yet Animal Rising choose to protest against an industry that puts an animal on a pedestal, that when reading the result of a race it is the name of the horse that comes first, not the jockey, trainer or owner.
Excepting our late Queen and Winston Churchill, racehorse owners of sound repute, there are more statues of horses in this country than there are of jockeys, trainers or owners. Animal Rising believe large areas of this country should be rewilded so that horses can run free where we can go to enjoy them. Of course, many will die in agony of broken legs, illness and the cold British climate, though, of course, rangers could be employed to monitor the thousands of equines patriated to wild, uncaring nature. Animal Rising, no doubt, also believe in fairies and unicorns.
Epsom today will be a battleground of ideology. The protestors will largely be young, no doubt the same people who take part in Stop Oil protests; people who ignore the 33 dire warnings by climate scientists since 1958 claiming the Arctic will be free of ice by 2000 or famine will ravish the Earth by 2005 and so on and on. What every claim of catastrophe has in common is that they have proved to be wrong. 
Animal Rising are not opposed to horse racing per se, they are using our sport and threatening the employment of many thousands of people to publicise their belief that the connection between animals and humans should be terminated. No domestic pets is also their goal.
We live in a government directed world of wokism, where people are allowed to believe that if they object to anything, they have the right to protest against it and strive to have it banished from society. I object to Animal Rising. Perhaps I should glue myself to one of its activists or invade a members’ garden or disrupt one of their gatherings by fair means or foul. 

​I refer to the Epsom Derby, of course. Those with encyclopaedic memories or form books extending back to the beginning of Timeform and beyond, will doubtless raise a persuasive argument against me. Until then I will claim that the years between 1968 and 1972 sparkled so brightly that even someone with as poor a memory as myself can recall their glory. (clearing throat) With the aid of Stewart Peters book ‘Derby Days’.
I was going to extend ‘the golden period’ to 1967, the first Derby I can recall watching on t.v. As a schoolboy, I remember running home from school – 3-miles from home – to watch Arkle in Cheltenham Gold Cups but not to watch a Derby. I was thirteen in 1967 and I suspect I was canny enough by then to fake illness on big race days that fell midweek.
Royal Palace won in 1967, ridden by Aussie jockey George Moore and trained by Noel Murless. To this callow youth he looked a real stunner, a horse for the age, though history perhaps records him as not in the highest of echelons as apart from the second and third, Ribocco and Dart Board, the beaten horses did not amount to much.
1968, of course, was the year of Sir Ivor. Don’t ask me why, as I am a shy cinema goer, but I never truly appreciated Sir Ivor’s turn of foot until I watched a film of this race in a cinema in Newmarket. Sandy Barclay, a teenager at the time, was in tears after the race as he thought he was a certain winner of the race on Connaught right up to the shadow of the winning post only for Lester to sweep by, the horse doing the proverbial handstands and Lester calculating that year’s tax returns.
Sir Ivor looked a world-beater that day and was always Lester’s answer when asked the best horse he ever rode, though he occasionally, I believe, prefaced his reply with, ‘on his day’. Sir Ivor was beaten in his next four races, including the Irish Derby, without the aid of Lester, and the Arc, with the aid of Lester. He did finish his career winning the Washington International, after which Lester’s riding tactics were derided by U.S. racing commentators. As always, Lester had the last laugh. After trying to avoid the press mob, when finally cornered and asked ‘when did you think you had the race won’, Lester replied, ‘about two-weeks ago’. 
The second, third and fourth, were horses of reasonable ability, Connaught, Mount Athos and Remand, but, other than Sir Ivor, it was not a vintage Derby. But Derby’s rarely are. 
1969 was a strange year in comparison to the golden years before and after. 26-ran that year and was won by a horse having only its second run of its life, Blakeney. I doubt you could have produced a poorer bunch of Derby runners as those that Blakeney beat, though, of course, in 1973, during the same period of racing history, Arthur Budget trained the 1973 Derby winner, a half-brother to his 1969 winner, Morston, also only having his second racecourse experience. So, for that fact alone, perhaps my golden period should extend to 1973.
The golden treasure came in 1970. The first flat horse to blow me away. Nijinsky. I even had a painting of him for a Christmas present, such was my esteem. Only eleven faced the starter in 1970, such was the pre-eminence of Vincent O’Brien’s champion. He won, beating perhaps less quality opposition than Sir Ivor, with the sort of contemptuous ease that only a Lester Piggott ridden horse could achieve.
Nijinsky went on to win the Irish Derby and won the King George & Queen Elisabeth at Ascot in the most-commonest of canters you’ll ever witness in a Group 1 from what was described as ‘a star-studded field’ that included Blakeney. And, let it be said, Nijinsky is the last horse to win the British Triple Crown of 2,000 Guineas, Derby and St.Leger, and I doubt I’ll live to see another colt achieve the same. His defeat in the Arc broke my heart. Lester may have cocked-up his legendary waiting tactics that day but they had worked to perfection in every other race Nijinsky contested. If his owner was not dying of cancer Nijinsky would have remained in training as a four-year-old and what epics of racing history that might have provided.
The most under-rated horse of my lifetime achieved glory in 1971. Whenever wet-behind-the-ears racing commentators list the great flat horses, the name of Mill Reef is usually omitted. His defeat to Brigadier Gerard in the 2,000 Guineas determines my belief that the latter is the greatest flat horse of my lifetime as no other contender for the title beat a horse as good as Mill Reef. 
Mill Reef was a good winner of a Derby field that comprised 21-runners. It was an okay field quality-wise, though no Derby is ever jam-packed with quality. I would say that Epsom did not see Mill Reef at his finest. He was better when winning the Eclipse, absolutely flawless in winning the King George at Ascot and better still when triumphing in the Arc.
If fate had been kinder, in 1971 we might have had a King George and Arc contested by both Nijinsky and Mill Reef and in 1972 we could have had a King George rematch between Mill Reef and Brigadier Gerard. I have to admit these three horses are my favourite flat horses of all-time.
I include 1972 in my golden period as the winner was Roberto, no doubt a brilliant horse on his day, though far too inconsistent to be considered as anywhere close to the equal of Nijinsky, Sir Ivor, Mill Reef or even Brigadier Gerard, even though Roberto achieved the shock of generations when he beat a slightly under-par Brigadier Gerard in the Benson & Hedges at York. And, at Epsom, he beat a future Arc winner in Rheingold, though little else of Group 1 quality.
I very much doubt if the 2023 Epsom Derby winner will be of the quality to list alongside the equine gods of 1968, 1970 and 1971. This years victor will go down (I hope not, though I fear) as the winner of the delayed, possibly postponed, year of the Animal Rising Epsom Derby. First horse racing, then 3-day Eventing, Show Jumping, dressage, and then no horses at all, an entire species wiped-out by people who believe they care more than anyone else! Then, no cats, no dogs. No pet rabbits. No parrots. Humans separated from animals.

​Racehorse trainers get better at their job through experience. Sometimes, especially when youthful, trainers can get lucky and have a horse of immense ability in their yard and yet after that horse has retired to either the stallion barn or the breeding paddocks, life is never as sweet again.
It has to be remembered that Willie Mullins was no kid-wonder. He didn’t receive his trainers’ licence on a Monday and proceed to set the turf firmament alight by the end of the first week of his new career. Willie toiled at the wheel for many a year before his star began to seen as relevant and perhaps enduring. I bet any money Willie Mullins made a pocketful of mistakes in his early years. I bet he would confess to running horses in the wrong races, at the wrong tracks, ridden by the wrong jockeys and said wrong words to owners. If Willie Mullins is a god of this sport, he has to be a very human sort of god, a delegator god, a god with a well-trained and experienced eye. Mind you, gods, true gods, gods deserving of a capital G, must work out their far-reaching plans on instinct alone. No committee meetings or blueprints. And from what I read about the man, the genius, suggests to me that he asks, he listens, deliberates, observes, leaves the definite till the last moment, changes his mind and then delivers the correct decision. I suspect his decisions surprise even the closest of his staff. It wouldn’t surprise me if sometimes he surprises himself. 
Fate can work in someone’s favour, also. If Michael O’Leary had not taken away the sixty-plus horses Mullins trained for him over a dispute about training fees, would Closutton be the invincible force today that it has become? Mullins was one of the leading trainers in Britain and Ireland at the time but he wasn’t the dominant force he is now. Mullins turned a career set-back into an opportunity to seek out new owners and to take his business to the mind-blowing level he is presently achieving.
I believe we should think of Willie Mullins in terms of a coach, not a team bus, but someone in the mould of Linford Christie, a trainer of athletes. Top athletes, I believe, attempt to take their achievements to new levels by transferring their training programmes to athletic coaches who already train elite athletes. Linford Christie specialises in sprinters. Aston Moore long and triple jumpers. Athletes improve when they train alongside athletes better than themselves.
Horses very rarely improve when sold out of Willie Mullins care, not because he has got the best out of them already, though that might be the case, but because on the gallops and schooling grounds of Closutton there are not one or two or five or six brilliant chasers and hurdlers but tens of dozens of superior equine athletes, all of them ridden at exercise by some of the top riders in Ireland. I doubt if there is any hiding place on the gallops for the horse of less than Grade 1 ability. And on the ground, there is Willie Mullins guiding, advising, marking in his mind’s eye for later reference details lesser humans would miss.
Also, and this point should not be glossed over, Willie Mullins games the play in Ireland with the spirit of a general in the field of battle. And if he misses a detail now and then, it is doubtless picked up by his son or David Casey or Ruby Walsh. 
If the Irish race-programme was similar to the programme British trainers must work with, his numbers would likely be less impressive. He has Grade 2 horses in abundance, horses that would be handicapped out of winning if they were trained over here yet the Irish calendar has conditions races in abundance throughout the year. Horses that would have to shoulder 12-stone and more in handicaps, jump around the lesser tracks with less weight, sometimes on even terms with opponents, some times giving away 7 or 10Ibs to horses that if it were a handicap would be receiving 2-stone.
If those same conditions chases and hurdles were transferred to these shores, especially through the summer, believe me, Nicky Henderson, Paul Nicholls and Dan Skelton would lap them up. In fact, why don’t British trainers consider giving Willie a run for his money by taking him on with their own badly-handicapped chasers and hurdlers? The place money alone would pay for the journey across the water even if they couldn’t lower the Mullins colours on every occasion.
If the British race-programme was not so afflicted by the over-arching wish for larger field sizes and greater competitiveness, perhaps the top owners presently flocking to Mullins and his Irish rivals might decide to stay here if there were races for the type of horse that Willie keeps especially for those not-so-hard-to-win conditions chases and hurdles.
The way to stop one-trainer dominance is not to limit the number of horses any one trainer can run in any one race but to limit the number of horses any one trainer can have in his or her stable. Of course, if Willie was limited to 100-horses, for example, or 150, he would set-up a satellite yard and put his son Patrick in charge. Yet a limit on numbers would force owners to look elsewhere and top staff would by necessity be dispersed to trainers who presently desperately need top-quality staff and prize-money would be spread around to a better extent than now. Willie would still dominate but hopefully not to the detriment of either those following in his wake or the sport as a whole.
Willie Mullins has the horse numbers, the horse quality, staff of equine Mensa ability and skill and expertise accrued through the experience of success and failure to rank him a genius of his profession. But that does not necessarily equate to him being better at his job than any other trainer in Ireland or Britain. And the wheel will turn. As it has always turned down the centuries of this sport.

​When first proposed, I hated the concept of preferential treatment for the premier racecourses over their smaller counterparts. That I have come around to the idea is not because I have taken a walk on the dark side and am indoctrinated into a belief system that requires smaller racecourses to go to the wall. I continue to believe that our sport can only survive if local people have local racecourses to attend. In time, I believe, it will become difficult for ordinary people to travel long distances from their homes as individual ownership of cars will become a thing of the past. But that is a topic for a different kind of forum.
To my mind, if the concept of the ‘Saturday Afternoon Window’ is to be the blueprint upon which to build a thriving racing industry, to allow the major races the full spotlight of media and public observation, surely that spotlight should be focused on one meeting, not three, as proposed. Next Saturday is a poor example but I will use the Epsom Derby to make my point. Only Epsom and the Derby matter next Saturday. All other meetings are irrelevant, in the same way that the F.A. Cup Final will be the only football match played on the day that the eyes of the nation will be focused on.
That said, I wish people would desist in associating horse racing with how other sports conduct themselves. There is no comparison between horse racing and Formula I or football or tennis. It is why horse racing should be governed by people steeped in the history of the sport and not by executives from other sporting organisation. Horses are not machines, which is why fireworks and marching bands are a definite no-no on British racecourses. Horses are sentient beings; those who govern the sport must have the knowledge that the first rule is that horses are the first rule of thought when proposing new rules.
My major criticism of the proposed changes to the fixture lists is that everyone, seemingly, is catered for except the people who work at the cliff-face, the stable staff and trainers. Morning meetings will disrupt stable routines, for horses travelling long or longish distances it will mean more overnight stays for staff and horses and more evening meetings will cause staff to work longer hours more often. For staff retention, the concept proposed might be a deal breaker. It doesn’t matter if staff are paid large bonuses for working unsocial hours if they are too tired to care for the horses in their charge. Has any consideration been given to the mental health of stable staff? I doubt it.
Improving the quality of Sunday racing will be made easier to achieve by these plans if, and this is not actually mentioned thus far, the smaller racecourses are given priority, with the likes of Musselburgh, Thirsk, Chester and Hamilton prioritised on the Sabbath. If the likes of Ascot, Goodwood, Cheltenham, for example, are allocated Sunday afternoon slots, then an opportunity to breath life into all realms of the sport will be lost and the B.H.A. will be seen as disingenuous. And they do not need 6 experimental Sunday evening fixtures as the ‘Sunday Series’ already fulfils that role.
It is all very well the B.H.A. preaching that the core product, the bread-and -butter days, are to be protected but unless they commit to aspirations of enhanced prize-money for the lowest rated races, then disingenuous will be the correct adjective to describe their objectives.
Cutting the fixture list is obviously a step in the right direction. In my opinion there should be far fewer all-weather meetings through the summer as the original concept behind all-weather tracks was that they were to be a safety-net for betting revenue when turf meetings have be cancelled due to rain, snow, frost, etc.
The aspect of the B.H.A.’s announcement that ‘got my goat’ was not any of the above but what they left in the pending tray. Days with no flat racing during the summer to allow jockeys, staff, etc, an easy day. Brilliant idea. Should have been adopted years ago. On certain days, only race-meetings in the north or the south. Sensible and forward-thinking. Extending the break between one jumps season the next. No-brainer. Adopt now, along with fewer summer jumps meetings to improve field-sizes. As in Ireland, ‘rider restricted’ meetings for jockeys who have rode fewer than a set number of winners in a six or twelve-month period. A small adjustment that would make a major difference in the income potential of so many people. I would also suggest restricted races for trainers who have trained a similar lower number of winners in a similar period.
The sport must be seen to helping all sectors as the B.H.A. will be helping no one if it thinks it can grow the sport from the top while ignoring the reliability of the sport’s foundations. If these proposals do not allow Newton Abbot, Taunton or Salisbury to grow alongside Ascot, Newmarket and Newbury, the B.H.A. will have failed and the sport will surely continue to wither. 
I award the B.H.A. 6/10 for being proactive for once in its lifetime.

​I was born in April 1954, the year a genius of the turf was confirmed. Not me, I hasten to add. But Lester Piggott, a jockey I knew nothing about, even come June 2nd when I was all of six-weeks old. I doubt if Lester caught my attention, I guess, till ten-years later and perhaps did not appreciate him until he rode Nijinsky to victory in the 1970 Epsom Derby. Incidentally, and nothing to do with the title of this piece, I gained short-lived notoriety with a few acquaintances when I not only nominated Nijinsky a ‘certainly’ but predicted correctly in the right order the 2nd, 3rd and 4th, Gyr, Stintino and Great Wall, a feat I couldn’t accomplish now in a four-horse race.
Anyway, with little else to boast about, I will return to the Derby of my birth year.
Derby Day was cold and gloomy, its cold touch persuading many devotees to stay at home and attendance was the smallest for many a year. In those days, as at Royal Ascot, though not in a horse and four, the Queen was driven up the course in a limousine, keeping well off the racing line, of course. She had a runner, Landau, a lively outsider, ridden by Willie Snaith, the jockey immortalised in Newmarket by a street named in his honour. It was the Earl of Roseberry who greeted Her Majesty on arrival and no doubt they chatted about the very unlike June weather. Sir Winston Churchill, a keen horseman and race-goer, and later a prominent and successful owner, was a guest in the royal box.
Gordon Richards should have been aboard Landau but injury kept him at home. He remained in 1954 both knighted and still the sport’s most popular jockey, which was remarkable considering only the year before he had denied Her Majesty a Derby winner only days after she had bestowed his knighthood on him in her Coronation honours list.
Many of the 22-runners were blessed with having some of the most highly regarded jockeys of many generations on their back. Bill Rickaby had the distinction of failing to finish, pulling up Cloonrougham. The Australian jockey Edgar Britt finished last on Rokimos. Michael Beary was 16th on Alpenhorn. Frankie Durr 13th on Blue Rod. Joe Mercer 12th on Moonlight Express. Rae Johnstone 11th on the joint-favourite Ferriol. The American jockey Johnnie Longden 10th on Blue Sail. Harry Carr 6th on Blue Prince. Charley Smirke 4th on Elopement. Manny Mercer 3rd on Darius.
Doug Smith was 7th in the race on Rowston Manor, perhaps the best horse northern trainer Harry Peacock ever had in his charge. The horse had won the Lingfield Derby Trial impressively enough to start at Epsom as 5/1 joint favourite. His finishing position makes clear he ran well but he was a soft-ground horse and though the weather was gloomy on the day, the cold wind kept drying out the ground. Perhaps connections considered taking him out of the race but it was the Derby, their only chance, perhaps, of winning the great race. They ran and the horse finished lame and never ran again. A sobering lesson of choosing the right moment to discover how good your horse might be. Epsom and the speed of the race can be a breaker of fragile 3-year-old colts. At least these days, the course can be watered.
The Derby was worth £17,000 to the winner, the equivalent of £595,000 today, so at least the Derby prize-fund has kept tabs with inflation.
It was a barrier start back then, of course, adding to the jeopardy of a unique racecourse. Starts pre-starting-stalls were rarely anything but ragged and races could be delayed for up to twenty-minutes as the starter battled to get the runners in some semblance of straightness. On this occasion the race started on-time and in reasonable order.
Moonlight Express led early, with Landau on his tail. Elopement and Arabian Night made progress as they climbed to the summit of the Downs, where L'Avengro took command. Rounding Tattenham Corner all the main contender were in touch, with Rowston Manor and Doug Smith the first to strike for home, followed by Elopement, Arabian Night and Darius. Yet in the wings, patient beyond his years, a long-legged teenager was biding his time, waiting for the precise moment to unleash his spring to glory. Never Say Die was a 33/1 outsider. Lester Piggott, riding with a longer stirrup leather than a modern-day jump jockey, was brash, collecting as many enemies as admirers in his up till then career, was about to land the first of his nine Derby winners.
Never Say Die was the first American-bred horse to win the Epsom Derby since Iroquois in 1881 and the first American-owned winner since 1914.
Horse racing history was being made and I knew absolutely nothing about it and it was a long time before I did.
Bill Rickaby, who didn’t finish the race in 1954, was Lester’s uncle and wrote in his autobiography ‘First To Finish’ that Lester was the greatest jockey he had ever seen and would ever likely to see. A good call. I wonder when it will be before someone compares Billy Loughnane to Lester, as I have already done.

​Look, I have a toothache at the moment. I hoped I could get through to the end of July when my next 6-monthly check-up comes round but no, by the weekend I will be on the strongest painkillers I can buy over the counter and drinking soup through a straw. This might be the reason my ‘Gloomy Gus’ persona dominating my thoughts and why my ‘happy cheery self is locked in a cupboard in my brain somewhere. As of this minute, I can think of no reason to be cheerful.
It was the brilliant Patrick Mullins writing for the Racing Post Ultimate Subscribers newsletter that dug the hole I fell into. He was in Marrakesh, I believe it was, representing his country as part of FEGENTRI, the world organisation that encourages amateur riders to fly around the world to ride in amateur races organised by the association to foster goodwill amongst fiercely competitive non-professional horseman. Patrick Mullins is the man to go to if you want more information on this delightfully old-fashioned club for the select few. All I know is that he was in Marrakesh for a party and awards ceremony and he was there as stand-in for John Gleeson who had to attend school and couldn’t pick up his trophy for best boy or whatever it was for. You would have thought his ma’am would have let him off school for a couple of days so he could, as Patrick sort of implied, have learned a few life lessons that would hold him in good stead once he has achieved his academic certificates. Sure, isn’t young Gleeson going to be a jockey, anyway.
In his article Patrick Mullins casually mentioned that Longines sponsored the serious of Fegentri flat races but declined to sponsor the jumps series. This on the same day that it was reported in the Racing Post that the awful ‘One Show’ had chosen to ditch a report on how equine charities retrain and care for ex-racehorses.
Added to which, in order to do everything in its power to ensure the Epsom Derby is undisturbed by protestors, the Jockey Club has spent £150,000 on security and applied for a legal injunction against ‘Animal Rising’ from unlawful protest at the course. Where are we as a society if legal injunction must be applied for in order to stop acts that in British law are illegal. What is the point of the police if it is not capable of preventing criminality when the crime to be committed is advertised on Twitter and in newspapers and with an exact time of the day when the crime will be committed?
I do not know how the sport can survive this tidal wave of negativity. Or how the thoroughbred horse can survive if the ill-informed and bigoted diatribe of ‘Animal Rising’ wins the middle ground. The debate on ‘premierising’ Saturday racing is trivial compared with the consequences of what might or might not happen at Epsom next weekend or Royal Ascot or Glorious Goodwood.
There was a time, not so long ago, when horse racing in this country was ringfenced by its association with aristocracy. No Lords Derby and Roseberry now. The sport may still have the patronage of the Royal Family but will the King be at Epsom next weekend as his mother would have been? Even if attendance at Epsom is in his diary, will his advisors permit his attendance if there is the threat of insurgence by misfits? Sir Winston Churchill was the last prominent politician to breed racehorses and have them in training. 
Slowly but surely this country is sinking into the dystopian morass of Orwell’s ‘1984’. What a good year that was in retrospect. Secreto won the Derby that year, by the way.
To add to the list of woes, national newspapers are reluctant to include race-cards and even the ‘broadsheets’ are becoming less likely to have a dedicated racing columnist. And worst of all, to my mind, is that horse racing in this country is losing out at a rapid rate to countries around the world, all of which have a funding stream that allows both for development of the sport and its infrastructure and for increasing amounts of prize-money that is the honey to the bee.
Horses die. It is as inevitable as people dying. Horses are not farmed for the consumption of their flesh and bones. Horses are the most cared-for animals on the planet. The death of Hill Sixteen at Aintree was not caused by the protests prior to the start but the actions of the protestors most likely contributed to his death. That, though, was doubtless not reported by any newspaper outside of the Racing Post. The odds are short if something similar occurs next weekend at Epsom that another horse will perish, with the added risk of a jockey suffering severe injury.
Sadly, the televised death of a racehorse, or even, God forbid, the death of a jockey, due to Animal Rising protests, might actually turn the tide in our favour. What a dreadful way to win a battle.
Animal Rising give veganism a bad smell. Pate is my only consumption of meat at the moment. I live with a vegetarian. I loathe the thought of animal cruelty. I support, in too small a way for the ease of my conscience, animal charities. Anyone licenced by the B.H.A. found guilty of cruelty or neglect deserve to be hung, drawn and quartered. To me, there is an unwritten but sacred contract that in return for the risk horses are put at for our entertainment, the horse, every horse, should be cared-for to the enth degree for the whole of its life.
But horses will die on British racecourses. One might die today. It is tragic but true. Apart from banning horse racing as bear-baiting and hare-coursing were banned, how do we prevent tragic accidents from happening? We can’t. In the same way there is no way we can sustain the thoroughbred species in this country without the continuation of the sport. Without horse racing, thousands of people will lose employment and the Exchequer will lose billions of pounds in tax revenue.
I need an appointment with a dentist. If only racing’s woes could be as easily attended to!

​Here’s a secret not worth knowing. I write this, whatever it is, blog, perhaps, using the font Bookman Old Style, though the default setting for Word Documents is Ariel. I should change the default setting, of course, the truth is, though, ‘settings’, as with all aspects of I.T. and modern technology, scare me to the same extent as tales of ‘The Lambton Worm’, hobgoblins and ‘things that go bump in the night’, frightened children in the days before artificial light was invented. This is pointless information as the font for the published blog is another font altogether, the name of which I have never bothered to find out as I am truly intimidated by ‘settings’.
I am easily intimidated. It is why I am not an adventurer or coach and four driver. It is also why I cannot conceive of the notion of advancing the popularity of this website by going forth and interviewing racing celebrities. Not even those jockeys and trainers who would be grateful for any small nugget of greater exposure to the public. I haven’t the platform, if I possessed the nous. I don’t do social media, outside of this obscure website, and though the questions I would want to ask would delve deeper into the souls of the interviewee than Racing Post journalists are allowed to ask, I haven’t the gall, courage or sense of worth, to approach anyone either verbally or electronically. 
So here we are, alone again, naturally.
No one is ever truly alone when there is horse racing to enjoy, are they? I have never met Frankie Dettori, and never will, most likely, yet he is as much a friend to me as he is to you. It is the same with Tom Marquand, Holly Doyle and William Buick. A one-sided friendship, I admit. Which suits me, as doubtless it suits them.
It would make a good news story if Frankie won the Derby on his final ride in the race and would take the sport, perhaps, on to the front pages of the national newspapers. Do I want Frankie to win on Arrest? Yes and no. Perhaps less than I would like Tom Marquand to win or Oisin Murphy. Personally I would prefer Daniel Muscott to win on Dubai Mile as, if I can be bothered, he'll carry my ten-bob each-way this year.
I just wish the Epsom Derby had some true pzazz about it, some expectation of history about to be created. When I was young, all those years ago, the Epsom Derby had news appeal and held on to its reputation as the horse race the world watched in awe. It is a faded glory nowadays, not even held in the same regard as Royal Ascot, even though people will disagree and continue to describe the Epsom Derby as ‘the greatest race in the world’, even though it clearly isn’t anymore.
When the description was valid and incontestable, the Arc de Triomphe did not exist, the Breeders Cup was mere fantasy, travelling a horse by air to faraway places was a pipedream, Dubai, Qatar and Saudi Arabia were homes for camels not racehorses and the Melbourne Cup was strictly for Australians. The Epsom Derby has lost its lustre and sorely needs a good deal of love given to it.
And I don’t mean throwing seven-figure amounts of prize money at it.
Royal Ascot is the major stumbling block, in my opinion. There are colts that in the past would be Derby contenders being kept back for comparatively minor races at the royal meeting. If owners and trainer do not in their heart of hearts believe the Epsom Derby is the greatest race in the world how can the race be sold as such to a public more and more less engaged with the sport? The type of horse going to Epsom these days are the St.Leger types, not that the winner will be seen at Doncaster in the Autumn as there is greater kudos to be had in winning the Arc. The Derby soon will be as dead in the water as the St. Leger if something isn’t done about it.
The Epsom Derby is intimidating owners and trainers of top-class 3-year-old colts. I cannot summon the courage to take a chance on meddling with the settings on my laptop and the same can be said for connections of Derby types when it comes to chancing their arms at Epsom. Horses with the breeding to suggest the Derby distance is right up their ball park and have the good each-way form to contest the race, should be in contention to run in the race. Every other race for 3-year-olds in the calendar should be regarded as consolation races. It used to be the way and should be now. 
As things stand right now, for breeding purposes, for the ‘making’ of stallions, it is the 10-furlong races that matter, especially if that colt has also won over a mile. 12-furlong races on a stallions score-card make him more likely to sire jumpers than Derby winners.
With a new monarch who, perhaps, doesn’t care so much about the ‘social season’ as the late lamented Queen, this would be a good time to debate, as with Cheltenham and Aintree in the spring, a month’s separation between Epsom and Royal Ascot? For the sake of the Epsom Derby, with, perhaps, as when ‘covid’ messed up the normal, the royal meeting exchanging dates in the calendar with Epsom?
If the Epsom Derby is to regain its honoured and historic description as ‘the greatest race in the world’ it needs some love and affection. The Epsom Derby must be given priority over the St.James’ Palace and the other races at the Royal meeting that attract the Epsom Derby type. Owners, and trainers especially, need to be coaxed from their intimidation of the Derby and follow the example of their forebears and chance their arm, to run the horse whose pedigree suggests it won’t stay or whose action suggests it will not come down the hill. Winning the Epsom Derby must be the glorious way to be proven wrong.

​I should be wholly opposed to the concept of the ‘Premierisation of Horse Racing’. It is an idea with a hole in it, dear Liza and eventually dear Henry will have to shift his lazy ass and fix the problem. I have no confidence in the B.H.A. to come to the right decision as they botch everything their hand touches and now they have the teeth to implement ideas off their own bat – if they ever have ideas of their own, that is – heaven only knows what a mess they will create. 
I should be opposed to ‘premierisation’ of the sport if only because no one in racing is on a par with Shakespeare (he was the Earl of Oxford, if you want the truth) and they should not be inventing words to give the appearance of brilliance when all they are doing is re-creating the wheel. Long ago, in the distant past, when the world was as yet uncorrupted by politics and Big Pharma, when Clive Graham sat on a chair in a booth educating the viewer with the form of each runner as it circulated the parade ring, adding anecdotes about the owner, jockey or trainer (not the servant leading the horse around, of course, as in the distant past servants were never spoken about). No fashion parade back then and certainly no waffle. Saturday was the special day, with no more than four-meetings scheduled, with only one televised. It was clarity back then in the days of black and white and the great Peter O’Sullevan’s muddled commentaries. No Super Saturdays. No clutter back in the day when all the national newspapers had dedicated racing journalists and all the race-cards were in the back pages of the paper. The good old days, if only we knew it.
Why people of influence in horse racing must constantly look at other sports with envious eyes defeats me. The total boll-acks of the way flat racing determines its champion jockey is Grand Prix related. Bernie Eccleston had a brief flirtation with horse racing, owning or part owning a few horses and he declared in his wisdom that horse racing would be less confusing and easier for the public to engage with if only a certain number of races determined the champion jockey each year. The champion jockey not necessarily riding the most winners throughout the entire season is so less confusing than the winning-most jockey declared the winner. I think Bernie’s idea was that the jockey who won the most Group 1’s should be declared champion. And why not. After all, Manchester City will be champion of the premiership this season based on points gained in certain matches, not due to wins and draws gained in cup competitions.
My point is that horse racing and football, or indeed motor sport, have little in common. Horse racing is a seven-day a-week life. Horse racing has numerous facets that inter-dwell, inter weave, go hand-in-hand. Promotions are not gained through points accrued. In our sport, in theory, anyway, it is less so nowadays than when Grandstand and World of Sport were in opposition, a minnow can win the highest prizes.
Handled correctly, premierising the top meetings has great potential to achieve what its supporters believe it can. To my mind, though, the danger is that the baby will be thrown out with the bathwater. I believe we should not be concentrating on Saturdays alone but including the Sunday as well. The weekend should be the jewel, not just the Saturday. Instead of demoting Musselburgh, Chester, York or Beverley to an undercard, the financial backwater of a 10.30 am or 4.30 pm start, give them the limelight of the Sunday and improve the standard of Sunday racing, long decried as an opportunity missed. The much-heralded ‘Sunday Series’ has improved prize money but it has done little to improve the quality of the horses on display. Premierising both the Saturday and the Sunday is the way forward.
Yes, I know. Ireland and France have their top races on a Sunday and the top English-based jockeys will be compromised, asked to choose between abroad and home. That, on occasion, will be the truth. Rarely will it occur, though, I believe. Ryan Moore and William Buick rarely strut their stuff at Musselburgh and Beverley. They will continue to fly to the Curragh and Longchamp and other jockeys will benefit from their absence.
My original horror at the suggestion of favouring (a nicer word than premierisation, don’t you think?) the top race-meetings on a Saturday over the smaller, country courses, has migrated to ‘unease’. It has potential. It will not in itself solve the issues the sport faces now and will in the future. In fact, if the B.H.A. do not prioritise the future of the smaller racecourses in tandem with favouring Ascot, Cheltenham, Newmarket, etc, the sport could easily get to the stage of being imperilled in double-quick time.
The horse racing bucket has a hole in it, dear Liza and it will take more than a straw to fix it. As amusing as the song is (‘There is a Hole in the Bucket’ by Harry Belafonte, if you are too young to know what I am referring to) it must be remembered that Henry was a lazy so-and-so and Liza an ineffectual employer who thought make-do and mend was a better option than buying a new bucket. The allegory being – premierisation might be the straw recommended by Liza to mend the bucket.