​Watching recordings of past Grand Nationals, which I do throughout the year, not only during the early days of April, it becomes apparent the jeopardy that is part and parcel of the race is not necessarily focused on the fences, the distance, ground conditions or the number of runners, but by loose horses potentially running amok. In some years, it might be fair to example the ‘sheer number’ of loose horses, though chaos can occur through the hard to gainsay actions of a single loose horse.wa
The result of practically every Grand National since the day of Lottery hinged on happenchance; the adventure of horse and jockey terminated by variables concocted by the gods of fate through the moment-in-time actions of unguided horses ducking out approaching the wings or changing course at the last stride and, perhaps, ending up in the ditch or on top of the fence.
Of course, acts of random equine endangerment do not always end with a jockey sprawled on the ground cursing his or her dreadful misfortune or their mounts forced into the ignominy of refusal. Lost momentum, even over an extreme of distance, can result in all hope gone for another year. The plunge horse, backed from long odds to ridiculously short for such a competitive race, the horse ‘thrown in’ at the weights and unlikely ever again to be so lowly burdened, the 100/1 outsider set alight by the out-of-the-realm-of-normality thrill of the chase, the workaday jockey who after years of graft and injury has finally landed on a horse with a live chance, each and every one, can be, literally, brought back down to earth with either a bang or a whimper, by the antics of cruel fate. 
As spectators, would we want it any other way? Even if our fivers and tenners, the life-changing gamble of big bettors denied not by poor judgement but by ill-starred contrivance, the hopes and dreams of grooms, jockeys, trainers, owners and even breeders, ‘go down to the beaten’? 
Although, going against the general tide of opinion, I continue to be critical of the changes imposed on the Grand National in recent times imposed by the views of outsiders who oppose the sport in all its aspects, with animal welfare merely a media-grab, and especially conditions of entry that mitigate against lower-rated horses perhaps better suited to the race than formerly higher-grade horses out-of-form and perhaps now less disposed to ‘try their very hardest’ that get in the race due to performances of two or three-years past, my love of the race has not abated one iota. 
The best development, though, by far, outweighing all other chances, is allowing greater opportunity for loose horses to bypass fences. In the past the emphasis was to keep loose horses within the boundaries of the racecourse, perhaps due to public safety liability concerns and any resulting insurance claims?
On the perils of horses running loose, I think Aintree have it about right. It would be wonderful, of course, if mounted horse-catchers could be employed but though a good idea in theory, in real-time huntsmen galloping around the inside or outside of the course could easily cause as much turmoil as a loose horse running down the take-off side of the Canal Turn. Now the distance of the race has been reduced, I put forward the speculative idea of a running rail on the bend after the water jump, creating a wide enough ‘lane’ for the jockeys to negotiate without causing a hazard, to, and one always must cross one fingers with such a radical idea, guide loose horses straight to the entrance of the stables and, if they allowed themselves to corralled in this manner, preventing them from heading out onto a second circuit of the race. 
One element of loose horses and the Grand National, indeed National Hunt racing in general, is, given they are independent of human control, how many horses will continue to ‘race’ and jump, some until the finishing post. I realise their blood is up and as a herd animal they are hard-wired to stay with their fleeing ‘playfellows’. Yet the loose horses that remain ‘up with the pace’ give clear indication of enjoying the experience, their ears pricked forward, looking for the next fence, with eyes displaying no fear of a predator. And rarely, though it does happen occasionally, do horses running loose fall. 
I accept in this day and age, when a subsect of people possess the arrogance to believe that nothing in society should offend them and if it does it should be eradicated, that image is reality. I also advocate that the first rule of racing should be that horse welfare is sacrosanct. Yet horse racing, even on the flat, presents a danger to both human and equine participants, as it is in all equestrian sport. The Grand National is no different. No more. No less. Hand on heart, when I place a bet on the race, I always prefer ‘no fatalities’ to returning to the betting shop to collect any winnings.
The Aintree Grand National is as scaled-back, perhaps some might go as far as describing it as ‘neutered, as its history and meaning can allow. The only area of the physical race that can, in principle, be improved upon is the jeopardy of loose horses and short of drastic or fanciful measures being implemented, in that aspect we remain, and shall always remain, in the lap of gods who give the impression of being bi-polar. 

​I am not a fan of the conditions of entry for the Grand National. I have made my position quite clear. I want to see good solid jumping stayers in the race above all others emphasises a need for good solid jumping horses that stay longer than a priest in need of saving a soul to impress Cardinal Brennan. Not formerly classy horses that for a reason beyond my understanding are still rated high enough to get into the race but on all known recent form have as little chance of winning as Foinavon had in1967.
That said, it is what it is.
Of the horses I originally put a pencilled tick against on publication of the weights, I am left with the following: Capodanno, The Big Dog, Lifetime Ambition, Gaillard Du Mesnil, The Big Breakaway, Minella Trump, Corach Rambler, Gin on Lime, Hill Sixteen.
Of those, you can rule out Minella Trump if the ground is soft/heavy and Hill Sixteen if it is not soft/heavy. I suspect Gin on Lime will run in the Topham, though it is my contention she will improve for a distance of ground. Forget the Cross-Country at Cheltenham, Rachel fell off her at the second-fence and gave us no clue to her capability as a jumper of non-standard fences or her ability to stay. If she were to run, I still think, at long odds, on goodish ground, she could out-run her category as a no-hoper.
I am not convinced The Big Dog will jump round and 11st 5Ib over-rates his ability in comparison to the likes of Capodanno, a horse Willie Mullins talked-up as a possible Gold Cup contender. If Capodanno was trained by a man who could make his mind up and stick to it, I would be all over Capodanno. But will he run and will Mark Walsh forsake Any Second Now to ride him?
I wasn’t impressed by Gaillard Du Mesnil at Cheltenham. It is a long-stretch of the imagination to claim it was anywhere near a competitive race and though he eventually got the job done, displaying an abundance of stamina, would he have won if Mahler’s Mission had not fallen when well clear?
This leaves me with Lifetime Ambition, The Big Breakaway and Corach Rambler and the obvious-to-see problem is that two out of the three are British-trained, reason enough in this time of Irish domination to without hesitation rule them out of calculations.
Let’s start with the horse I think will win and was my original choice back in February when the weights were announced. Lifetime Ambition is being trained for the race, no question. There is a ‘story’ attached to him as his trainer Jessie Harrington is currently being treated for breast cancer. So that box is ticked. He has had an old-fashioned build-up to the race. He has won over 3-miles and was 2nd at last year’s Punchestown Festival to Capodanno over 3-miles, beaten a running-on 6-lengths. He was also 2nd to The Big Dog at Navan, receiving 5Ibs on softer ground than at Punchestown. Although he has won on heavy, I would like goodish ground for Lifetime Ambition, though I will back him come what may as his profile suggests ‘National horse’ and he will be guaranteed to be cherry-ripe for the day.
Corach Rambler’s chance is obvious; it’s why he is favourite despite the burden of being British-trained. At 10st 5Ibs he is thrown-in at the weights and as long as he doesn’t get as far back as One For Arthur when he won, he shouldn’t give his supporters too many heart-attacks. To me, he’s the obvious winner. Yet trainers rarely win more than one Grand National. Even Willie Mullins has only won the race once.
I wish The Big Breakaway had not pulled-up at Cheltenham as being a soft-ground horse the conditions could not be blamed. I suspect when hope of being in the flame was extinguished Brendon Powell pulled-up to keep him fresh for Aintree. Ordinarily a non-finish before a run in the Grand National would put me off but if he starts at 33/1 or more, I’ll still, possibly, invest modestly. At the last moment, I rejected Rule The World when he won as ‘novices that have not won a chase never win Grand Nationals’. A decision that chills my soul to this day.
At the risk of being accused of allowing my heart to overrule my head, the two horses to come into my calculations of late are also British-trained. Silently, through a t.v. monitor, I have appealed to Venetia to run Royal Pagaille in the Grand National for the past two-seasons. He is a class act, perhaps he has a few more pounds on his back than I would like, but he is not going to win any other race at Aintree or Punchestown this season and aged 9 he is at his prime for such a searching test. Come on Venetia, by your and Charlie’s standards you have had a quiet season, give yourself a chance of ending it with a roar.
The other horse is Our Power. Deserves to get a run, is trained by a man who seems to have the golden touch and has a ready-made ‘story’ in that his owner Dai Walters is still recovering from helicopter crash that almost claimed his life.
I am not confident that the 2023 Grand National winner will be British-trained, though I think our chances are higher than the ante-post market would suggest. At this moment I remain with Lifetime Ambition, with Capodanno, Royal Pagaille and Our Power to make the first four. Though going with my lifetime record of rejecting horses that go on to win the race – Rule the World is far from the exception – if I were you, I would take a close look at The Big Breakaway, The Big Dog and Gaillard Du Mesnil.
By the way, I reject Any Second Now for age and weight reasons. Galvin because I doubt his resolution. Noble Yeats for weight reasons and lightening rarely strikes twice and if he win he could easily be another Red Rum and there never will be another Red Rum. Fury Road will not stay. Delta Work because he only wins soft races these days. Coko Beach lacks the class. Longhouse Poet didn’t stay last season, so why will he this season. Wouldn’t have Ain’t That A Shame on my mind and hope Rachel goes with the mare. Mr. Incredible, really. He might refuse to start. Might refuse at the first. Might love it. Love it. Love it! Would be nice, though, for Brian Hayes to get the glory for a change, rather than having to bathe reflectively in the success of his wonder-woman ‘other half’.

​Whilst not wishing to endorse one syndicate over another, the Owners’ Group is a shining example of how to get the man/woman in the street involved in British horse-racing. For an annual cost of somewhere in the region of £60 it is possible for bus drivers, care-workers, hotel porters etc, to own a small share, and receive a small share of prize-money, in a Cheltenham Festival or Royal Ascot winner. The working-class man may never be able to own a racehorse outright yet for a small outlay the mystery, intrigue, tragedy and joy of racehorse ownership could lead to a lifelong passion for the sport and a portfolio of small investments in many Owners’ Group horses. It’s got me thinking, anyway.
The increase in prize-money at York, Ascot and Goodwood cannot be quibbled at, even if I quibble that the benefit of six-figure prize funds is directed at the elite of the sport and will do little to aid those at the bottom reaches of the sport’s pyramid. Strength and longevity comes from strong foundations, not from constructing down from the top storey of the building. That said, at least racecourses are addressing the shortfall in British prize-money in relation to horse racing around the world, even if the B.H.A. continues to twiddle its thumbs as if the tree of life is bearing nothing but glorious fruitful dividends.
Horse racing is both a sport and an industry. It is worth billions to the British Treasury, employs in its many guises many thousands of people of all ages and gender and from many countries around the world. It is also a sport and industry that happily mingles all sectors of society together as one horse-worshipping entity. Horse racing is not, as portrayed in the media and culture, an elitist sport but a sport where the working class can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with royalty and the mega-wealthy.
Horse racing in this country also has a history that has grown from an entertainment for the aristocracy, founded, in part, by Queen Anne, to a hobby enjoyed on the High Streets and homes of the country. The sport has a right to exist, a right to survive and a duty to everyone in history who has contributed to where we are now, to thrive long into the future.
We live in straiten times. The manipulated cost-of-living crisis affects us all. No one is truly unaffected by rising costs. This, in effect, has the sport on a war-footing. Attendance at racecourses is, as one would expect, on a downward spiral. Clerks-of-the-courses are having to be imaginative to grab the attention of local people, to encourage interest in a day at the races. Sponsors are hard to find, with even the Derby at Epsom without as yet a sponsor.
Anyone with an inkling of knowledge as to how politicians and unelected technocrats wish to manipulate society in the decades to come will be aware that though working people may have more time on their hands than at any period in history, they will have less resources to go where they please. In twenty-years it may not be possible, for example, to go racing at Fakenham if you live in London or Manchester. Or Redcar if you live in Cambridge. Or Taunton if you live in Rhyl. It’s not science-fiction; if only it were.
The B.H.A. now has the power to implement strategies to take the sport forward. They are no longer hidebound by the tripartite agreement with racecourse owners and the Thoroughbred Group. Instead of tinkering with whip rules, having made a bollocks of it for decades, and worrying over the image of the sport with the outside world, what is needed is a strategic plan to encompass all aspects of the sport. To formulate a plan that allows the sport to fund itself, to encourage more people into the sport at all levels, including small-time breeders, owners and permit-trainers, and to ensure that every racecourse from Newton Abbot to Perth survive and thrive long into the future. Yet does the B.H.A. have the expertise to right the ship and sail it into calmer waters and the adventures that lie beyond? I suggest not. I suggest nothing in its history suggests anything remotely close to dynamic, creative, inventive or enterprising.
Perhaps the answer is for the B.H.A. to bring together a group of horse racing people of wisdom and long-experience of the sport to formulate a plan for the future of British horse racing. I am not suggesting the sort of plan that Beeching dreamed-up that removed romance and convenience from the railways and eventually led to a countryside ravaged by tail-backs, pot-holes metropolitan pollution and the madness of ULEZ and the impossible to achieve fantasy of fifteen-minute cities. 
Individual enterprise is to be applauded. But for the sport to survive and thrive as a whole a coordinated plan is required. And required now. Or at least required to be initiated now. There is no time to lose. I am old; I have enjoyed this sport for the best part of sixty-years. I may have lived through its stellar years, and I want to continue to enjoy the sport through my dotage until death takes me to the next realm of existence. I want others to enjoy the sport, including those yet to be born.
I want to see Fakenham survive. I want Redcar to survive. I want Taunton to survive, just as much as I want York, Ascot and Goodwood to attract the best horses from around the world. Beeching took the countryside railway stations from the people. I do not want to live to see the current British country racecourses feature in a future edition of Chris Pitt’s ‘A Long Time Gone’.

​Richard Pitman is both one of the good men of racing and one of its greats. On his own admission he wasn’t one of the most stylish of riders, yet Fred Winter, a man revered and honoured still to this day, employed him as his stable jockey, and it must have been for more than his honesty and loyalty. Richard Pitman must have been effective as a jockey. 
You can admire Richard Pitman for donating a kidney, if you wish – he inspired me to attempt to do the same, only to be told I needed both my kidneys as one wasn’t as good as the other – or for his charitable work. I admire him mostly, though, for continuing to take the blame for Crisp failing to give the immortal and greatest-ever Grand National winner, Red Rum, 23Ibs in the 1973 renewal of the world’s greatest race.
What is less known about the 1973 Grand National, though on firmer ground Mr.Frisk would break the record many years later, is that not only did Red Rum win in a record time, 9-min, 1.9-seconds, but Crisp also was inside the record, carrying 12-stone. They may have smashed the old record-time but the third and fourth, none other than two of the most popular horses of the time, L’Escagot, carrying 12-stone  (2-time Gold Cup winner, remember) and Spanish Steps, 11-st 13Ib, also finished within the old fastest time and they were 25Ibs adrift.
38-horses faced the starter on 31st March, with 17 finishing. The ground was firm, the sort of ground to be feared today for steeplechasing but just what is needed to destroy long-standing track records.
Legends rode in the 1973 race. Tommy Carberry, progenitor of a great riding dynasty, rode L’Escargot, one of only two-horses to ever beat Red Rum in a Grand National. Bob Champion was sixth on Hurricane Rock. Lord Oaksey seventh on Proud Tarquin. Edward Courage, a permit holder, owned and trained the mighty Spanish Steps. Brian Jenks owned the fifth home Rouge Autumn. Mrs. J. Bowes-Lyon (must have been relation of the late Queen Mother) owned The Pooka that finished twelfth. Robert Sangster owned the fifteenth-finisher, Sunny Lad.
Jonjo O’Neill fell, as was his tradition, on Red Rum’s stable-mate Glenkiln. David Nicholson pulled-up Highland Seal. Jeff King fell on Ashville and the Duke of Alburquerque failed to complete on Nereo. It was a proper traditional, old-fashioned Grand National. The likes of which we will never see again.
Usually, I accept losing as part of life but I wanted to lodge an objection when Dancing Brave’s win in the Arc – I can’t even bring myself to stand-up and take down Pat Eddery’s autobiography to confirm the year, my irk remains so great – was voted the greatest race ever by Racing Post readers. I accept it was a memorable race and perhaps one of Pat Eddery’s greatest-ever rides. Yet better than a race where the first four broke the course record! A race where a horse giving away 23Ibs nearly achieved the genuinely impossible! In youthful culture, wisdom is denied and historical truth left unread. To the young, 1973 is as ancient as 1873.
Crisp was a former 2-mile Champion Chaser. The Cheltenham Gold Cup distance stretched his stamina to breaking point. He was Australian-bred. He came to this country on a quest, an adventure for his owner Sir Chester Manifold. Few considered him a likely finisher. Yet this bold jumper laughed at Aintree’s fearsome reputation, treated its fences as if they were upturned dandy-brushes and led for the vast majority of the 4-mile 4-furlongs, only to be collared close to the line, and only, on his own admission ‘it was a boyish error from a man’, when instead of staying still and holding the big horse together, Richard Pitman took a hand-off the reins and gave his gallant mount a slap with the stick. ‘’The ground we forfeited at that point was greater than the three-quarters of a length he was beaten by Red Rum’.
Of course, without that error, Red Rum would have only won 2-Grand Nationals and though he would still be revered today, he would only be the equal of Abd el Kader, The Lamb, The Colonel, Manifesto, Reynoldstown and Tiger Roll, not their superior and not the legend he will remain for the whole duration of horse racing history. Sometimes, the stars align and things are meant to be. Red Rum, remember, is credited with saving the Grand National. Without that riding error by Richard Pitman – ‘I am proud to have played my part while realising John Francome would not have fallen into the decision, I wrongly made half-way up the 494-yards run-in’ – we might not have enjoyed fifty Grand Nationals since 1973. Instead, we might be looking forward to on April 15th a far from replica of the Grand National staged over ordinary fences on an ordinary racecourse. A woke National. Perhaps even reduced to being staged at a point-to-point course; at Larkhill as someone helpfully suggested when it seemed certain that Aintree would disappear under a developer’s J.C.B.
God bless you, Richard Pitman. Your error was not an error of judgment but a subconscious sacrifice to save your sport and our greatest horse race.

​Since taking out an on-line subscription to the Racing Post – have now retired and can now class myself as even poorer and have taken the dark road to reading from a monitor. Incidentally, I miss not having the paper physically in my hand. Needs must, though. – they seem to have taken offence at me ignoring the incredible data-base I now have at my disposal. Again, incidentally, while on the subject of on-line subscription. Perhaps I should have started with this warning. Unprofessional? Doubtless. 
For your money the Racing Post offer not only subscription to the Racing Post but also the Irish Racing Post, which, I warn you, is identical to the British version. You do, though, get the Weekender and Racing & Football Outlook, which for the bettor and point-to-point enthusiast is a bonus. The newsletters, though, are just a rehash of what you have already read in Racing Post. That said: I continue to love the Racing Post. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Back to the data base.
Having now perused this incredible feature, I have discovered some statistical quirks. Be warned, though as Disraeli famously said, though quoting from Mark Twain’s autobiography, I believe: there are three kinds of lies; lies, damned lies and statistics. Just for balance, the saintly Florence Nightingale wrote: To understand God’s thoughts we must study statistics, for these are the measure of his purpose.
Brian Hughes may be champion jockey and leading the jockeys title race again this season but taking my information from the top 100, statistically percentage-wise he is far from the top of the list. While Hughes has a 20% strike rate, Harry Cobden has 28%, Paddy Brennan 27%, Nico de Boinville 25%, Luca Morgan 21%, John England 21%, Charlotte Jones 21% with Ned Fox also on 21%.
It is strike-rate on favourites, though, where Hughes is bettered the most, surprisingly. I began by listing jockeys with a better strike rate than the 34% strike-rate of our champion jockey but there were too many, so I switched to those jockeys who either equals Cobden’s 50% or better it. Tom Cannon has a 50% strike rate on favourites, as does Richard Patrick, Charlotte Jones and Stephen Mulqueen. Jack Hogan is on 51%. Patrick Wadge on 53%. Bryan Carver on 54%. Harry Kimber and Ciaran Gethins are on 56%. Bryony Frost and Bridget Andrews on 57%. Connor Brace and Emma Smith-Chaston on 58%. Though the winner of the strike-rate on favourites is the 100-1 outsider Mark Goldstein, presently side-lined through injury. There is an outlier with 100% and that is Connor Rabbitt, though one win from one winning favourite cannot be allowed to count.
Now for the statistic that proves either Disraeli or Nightingale’s quote as admissible as evidence as proof of your theory: of the seven jockeys in the first list one in seven is female. Of the 14 jockeys in the second category, 4 are female. Though my record when conducting research is far from dependable, the fact that only one jockey other than Harry Cobden is in both categories is Charlotte Jones, a jockey who in the main only rides for one stable, I put forward her name as a jockey that is being deplorably overlooked when owners and trainers are in search of a good conditional.
Of course, in statistical analysis it could be concluded that when Dan Skelton has a favourite in a big handicap he might want to put up his sister-in-law (56%) rather than his brother (37%), though I suspect this statistical fact falls into the lies, damned lies, etc category. Though Bridget did get the better of Davy Russell in the County Hurdle, a result that resulted, perhaps, in Russell thinking seriously about going back into retirement.
What this quick brush with statistical analysis does suggest is that booking a top jockey on a favourite does not necessarily bring about victory, though it can be argued that jockeys riding in the big handicaps will generally always be the top jockeys and thus if there are sixteen of them, fifteen will be on losers are that will skew the statistics. But it also suggests that the lesser jockeys when given the opportunity of riding favourites in races are perhaps more motivated to get the job done as their career trajectory depends on proving to their employers that they are have the race-craft to be given further opportunities.
It is also evidence that Jones, Frost, Andrews and Smith-Chaston should be availed-of better opportunities as they are already proving that they can get the job done.

​Sam Darling was born in 1852 in Moreton-in-Marsh and died in 1921, I assume in Wiltshire. He didn’t mention his death in ‘Sam Darling’s Reminiscences’, the omission accounted for by him having not yet died.
For a memoir of a successful racehorse trainer, Sam’s book is light on many aspects of his experiences on the racecourse. Mainly, to my intense disappointment, as I read such books to feed my impoverished brain with useful turf facts, half the book is taken up with his holidays abroad, with even the final chapter, ‘Home Details’, reading  as if his publisher said to him ‘embarrassed by your family, Sam, are you?’, and his retirement from Beckhampton, now the home and training yard of Roger Charlton, and building Willonyx House on one of the two farms he owned. And ‘boasting’ of all his successes at farm shows with his sheep and cattle.
I only have the ‘cheaper version’ of the book. Visit Way’s bookshop in Newmarket and you could avail yourself of a far grander edition of the book for the not inconsiderable price of £425. In the cheaper edition there are only 5 illustrations in ‘Photogravure’ and 4 in ‘half-tone’, whilst in the grander edition, original cost 21-shillings (ask your grandfather to explain shillings, though in racing terms 21-shillings equates to a guinea, again, ask your grandfather) there are 8 photogravures and no less than 42 half-tone illustrations. The words contained in the grand edition remain, I suspect, the same as in the cheaper version.
Sam Darling was a man steeped in racing history, with his father and grandfather before him a jockey and trainer, and Sam junior followed in his footsteps, as his own son Fred continued the family line of succession, taking over Beckhampton from his father and being equally successful. The Darlings may hold the world record for the number of winners trained by a racing dynasty. You will have to ask John Randall of the Racing Post for a definitive answer.
In Chapter 1, ‘Early Days’, it is established that Sam is connected to Lord Westbury and he writes about old Sam Darling, a term that I dare say Fred used to refer to Sam, his father. That is the problem with naming the first-born after the Christian name of the father, the second after an uncle and so on. Not as embarrassing as the tradition in some parts of Ireland where one of the sons has as a secondary Christian name the name of his grandmother. I know of one well-known Irish, though domiciled in England, trainer whose second name is Mary.
Sam Darling’s (of the Reminiscences) grandfather rode 4 Chester Cup winners and rode in all one year 76-winners from 176 mounts, ‘and that before there were many railways’. To get to meetings he would ride a hack, his saddle slung round his back. He won the St.Leger in 1833 on Rockingham. The Darlings go way back into racing history, almost into folklore. If only there were a Darling name now to carry on the succession.
Sam (of the Reminiscences) knew the Archer family and on being asked where young Fred should go to begin his career as a jockey, Sam recommended Mathew Dawson in Newmarket. ‘This was highly satisfactory, as history proves’.
There are, I admit, insights and useful historical fact in this book, I just found it irritating that a man so steeped in facing folklore, with an antecedence that trails back to when horse racing was primarily match races for the entertainment of the landed gentry, filled so much of the only book he published with tales of his holidays in Egypt, South Africa and elsewhere. Also, and don’t tell anyone ‘woke’ or they’ll have Sam’s body dug-up to witness a burning of all the known copies of his book, but he uses the ‘N’ word on several occasions when referring to ‘niggers’. Even I, someone appalled by all forms of censorship and someone with no racist thought and who treats all faiths and religions with equal distain, couldn’t help but be a little offended. Different times, different time.
This, as you might have gathered, is far from my favourite racing book, though being over a hundred-years old it adds flavour and value to my library.
Oh, I should add, almost in a similar vein as Sam Darling mentioned it, he won the Epsom Derby with Galtee Moor and Ard Patrick and back in those dark days our good horses were being sold as stallions abroad, including Derby winners. Good to know, that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

​I love the Grand National. Love it! Love it! Love it!
Remember the days of steam trains. The mighty machine that was the Flying Scotsman or any of its mates, thundering along at what for the time was something like warp-speed. Observing on the embankment or as it pulled steaming and sweaty like a Grand National winner applauded into the winners’ enclosure, we didn’t notice the tender that carried the coal that fuelled the mighty beast. That is my metaphor to describe what the Grand National is to horse racing in this country. It is the tender that fuels the sport. It needs constant care and the occasional sympathetic overhaul.
From a marketing and spectator-driven prospective, the Grand National is doing swell. People continue to have an annual bet on the race and offices organise sweepstakes and the race will receive prior to the day a certain amount of media coverage, though not in the same stratosphere as in days gone by. The Grand National fits uneasily into the woke narrative of how live should be lived the non-racing press and multinational t.v. stations are required to project. And, of course, it will receive a pitifully small amount of coverage in the aftermath of the race unless there is an equine fatality to highlight or if a female jockey were to be victorious.
You may say I should not evoke the madness of woke in association with a horse race of such history and sporting magnitude. I would argue that the changes in the fences, the race distance and the conditions of entry were based on a kind of knee-jerk sporting wokeism. The B.H.A. wanted to make safe a race where jeopardy is its main component. They set-out to attract a better-class of runner. And yet!
There are 57-horse still in this season’s Grand National. April 15th. 5-15 off-time. Best birthday present ever! If I back the winner, anyway. Has been known, you know. One of those horses is Captain Kangaroo with form figures of UFPFP. If this horse was trained by anyone other than Willie Mullins would it be allowed to still be in the race? It might be he is still engaged as the owners hope to sell the horse on the days leading up to the race in hope of getting a six-figure sales price from someone in want of just having a runner in the race. Yet Iwilldoit, the winner of a Welsh National, was denied entry as he had not run six-times in a steeplechase.
Captain Cattistock, a dour stayer and safe jumper, will doubtless not get a run, though Battleoverdoyen, a horse light of former years and an unlikely finisher and only in the race as a social runner, is certain of a run. Our Power, a horse with good, solid form around Grade 1 racecourses and a possible winner if he should take part, is also unlikely to get in the race, whereas Irish-trained Roi Mage and Diol Ker, both, in my eyes, inferior to Our Power, are certain to get a run.
What the Grand National needs more than better-quality horses is the right horses competing – solid jumpers, proven stayers, even the classy 2-mile 4-furlong horse. Remember Gay Trip. On the latter subject. Envoi Allen would be the classiest horse still in the race, yet though he has won over 3-miles, a condition of the race, he is in reality a 2-mile 4 horse, that’s where most of his good form lies. I doubt he’ll line-up, though he could. Yet I would argue is he a more imaginable winner than either Our Power of Iwilldoit? I don’t think so.
The conditions of the Grand National should be sympathetically tweaked. Not by the B.H.A. but by individuals with life-long involvement with the sport and in particular the Grand National. I qualify to offer my thoughts on the basis of the former and the latter as I have watched over fifty Grand Nationals. Perhaps over sixty and more if you include all the historical Grand Nationals I have watched on YouTube.
There should be ‘win and you are in’ races during the previous 12-months, no matter the rating of the horse, though I would restrict on age. No six-year-olds, for instance. In this category I would include the Irish, Welsh and Scottish Nationals, the Midlands National, the Eider, the Becher and, perhaps, the Warwick Classic.
Any horse that has achieved a first four-place in any of the previous two-years should be assured of a run. The Grand National is a race for stayers and this is the type of horse that should be running in the race, not the classy sort of horse like Envoi Allen.
The Aintree Foxhunter winner, if achieving the qualifying rating. The Grand National is run over a unique course; a horse proven over the fences should be encouraged to take part and this latest qualification suggestion would allow the possible participation of connections from the ‘amateur’ ranks. Remember Frank Gilman, Dick Saunders and Grittar? The Grand National these days lacks what could be termed the ‘Grittar element’ and is not improved by its omission. 
Also, the idea of penalties for horses weighted below 10st 4Ib should be considered or allowed to run if their rating at the 5-day declaration stage is above the rating of any of the declared 40-runners above them. It would be unfair, as entries stand, on the connections of Eva’s Oskar, the present number 40, though better for the race if this rule allowed Our Power to get in, for example.
There is a Racing Post published book by Chris Pitt, perhaps my favourite author of racing books, called ‘Down to the Beaten’, tales of the Grand National. It does not document the victors but the gallant unbowed, those whose glory was to take part. The stories in its many chapters include characters like Keith Barnfield who rode in the race in 1976. Brod Munro-Wilson who rode in the race in 1980. Val Jackson who rode Bush Guide in 1984. Tom Dascombe who rode a Martin Pipe outsider in 1998.
I mention the above as it is a wonderful book, one of my all-time favourite racing books, but also because it couldn’t be written nowadays as horses like the multiple winner Bush Guide would not get in the race and capable amateurs like Val Jackson would be barred from competing. Yet that sort of combination is exactly what the modern Grand National lacks. The romance of plucky endeavour. Where lies the plucky endeavour of the race on April 15th?

​In the summer, at Ascot, there is a 2-mile handicap named after the legendary former Champion Hurdler and one of the flat’s greatest stayers, Brown Jack. If, for whatever reason, his name should be removed from the title of this race,  I shall go to Ascot and stamp my feet very hard outside the office of the clerk of the course. For anyone unaware of Brown Jack’s place in racing history, I suggest research, or a search for the book by R.C. Lyle on the life and career of the great horse, perhaps the first horse to have the same sort of fame and public adoration that we now associate with more recent equine legends like Desert Orchid, Red Rum or Honeysuckle.
Such was Brown Jack’s fame, he became the first racehorse to have a steam locomotive named in his honour, a class 3 passenger locomotive. He also had a public house named in his honour; a pub you can still eat and drink at in Wroughton, Swindon, close to where he was trained by Ivor Anthony.
Just to dot the I’s and cross the t’s, Brown Jack’s main claim to fame is that he won the Queen Alexandria Stakes at Royal Ascot six-years in a row, along with victories in the Chester Cup, Ebor, Ascot Stakes (same year as he also won the Queen Alexandria) Goodwood and Doncaster Cups. He also won the 1928 Champion Hurdle at Cheltenham. He never won the Ascot Gold Cup as in those days geldings were barred from running in the red riband race and considered as highly regarded as a classic back then.
So what do the following famous racehorses have in common with the legendary Brown Jack: Alycidon, winner of the 1949 Ascot and Goodwood Cups; Ballymoss, winner of the 1957 Irish Derby and English St.Leger; St.Paddy, winner of the 1960 Epsom Derby and Doncaster St.Leger; Meld, the 1955 fillies Triple Crown winner; Nimbus, the 1949 2,000 Guineas and Epsom Derby winner; Tulyar, the 1952 Epsom Derby and St.Leger winner; Pinza, the 1953 Epsom Derby winner (beating the Queen’s Aureole) and the 1957 2,000 Guineas and Epsom Derby winner, Crepello?
While Brown Jack had a steam locomotive named after him, the aforementioned had Deltic electric-powered locomotives named in their honour. Though as far as I am aware not one of them had a public house named after them.
There is an historical social statement in G.W.R. naming their new and revolutionary, at least for Britain, class of train, the start to replacing all steam trains (boo) after famous racehorses of the time, alongside those named in honour of British Army Regiment like the Green Howards, Black Watch, Gordon Highlanders and The King’s Own. It wouldn’t happen nowadays, not even, I suspect, in of the honour the military services. Woke, you know; can’t afford to offend anyone’s sensibilities.
It is why it is important that British horse racing continues to honour the names of famous and great racehorses from the past and into the future. It is why the Brown Jack Handicap at Ascot should be preserved, cherished and possibly upgraded. It should never be seen as a mid-band, quite ordinary handicap. It should be a race jockeys, trainers and owners are proud to have on their c.v.’s. Outside of Eclipse and Derby winners of his time, perhaps horses only revered at the time by a minority of the public, Brown Jack’s name leaped from the pages of the racing press to mainstream, no doubt the first racehorse to gain the genuine affection of the public. When he won the Queen Alexandria for the sixth time, his trainer couldn’t bear to watch the race and only knew the old boy had won by the volume of noise coming from the grandstand as people willed him to win.
I would contend that Brown Jack did more for the sport of horse racing than any, or indeed as a collective, of the horses similarly honoured to have a locomotive named after them. We must continue to honour our great racehorses by naming races, grandstands, bars, etc, as no other sector of British society will do so, though, I admit, there are doubtless residential roads and streets built on the old turf of former racecourses that might bear the name of a racehorse, as it is possible there might be an Eclipse or Golden Miller pub somewhere in the country.
I would ask is Frankel suitably honoured by British horse racing? As the only flat racehorse to challenge, to my mind, Brigadier Gerard as the greatest flat horse of my lifetime, shouldn’t he have a race of similar rank to the Brigadier named after him?
Arkle is honoured both in Britain and Ireland with Grade 1 races named in his honour, not that ‘Himself’ will ever be lost to racing history. Yet Mill House is not honoured in a similar way. Red Rum is poorly honoured by a handicap chase if you consider all that he contributed to the sport.
So, let’s us not forget our equine heroes and never allow a sponsor to submerge the name of a great horse under the wordage of race conditions as has happened to the mighty Golden Miller, and by Cheltenham, the racecourse where his glory was established and immortalised in National Hunt racing history.

​I suspect the title of this piece is incorrect as doubtless a previous occupier of Seven Barrows did switch a Champion Hurdler of the distant past to fences. It would be routine back in the days of black and white and with few hurdle races worth winning.
Nicky Henderson, the present Seven Barrows supremo, is not in favour of switching codes with his Champion hurdlers and as a creature of habit when he sits down with Michael Buckley and Nico over the summer to thrash out the ‘what shall we do with Constitution Hill next season’ he’ll no doubt be in the ‘why change a winning formula’ corner. Michael Buckley, by all accounts, will be in the opposite corner, with Nico, perhaps, having the deciding vote. By then, of course, as Nico has intimated, there will have been a secret schooling session over fences, with the outcome having an overwhelming bearing on whether Constitution Hill starts his next campaign in the Fighting Fifth or a novice chase at Kempton or Newbury.
I am not as convinced as others that Nicky Henderson will adopt the tried and tested formula this time around as Michael Buckley’s stated racing ambition is to see his colours successful in the Cheltenham Gold Cup. Constitution Hill is not only Michael Buckley’s best-ever chance of achieving his lifetime ambition but also, given he has a medical condition that required a hospital stay and a medical procedure shortly before Cheltenham, perhaps his last ever chance. And Constitution Hill is no ordinary Champion Hurdler. After two races, his trainer was suggesting he could be the best he has ever trained. And that is a statement and a half coming from one or racing’s renowned fence-sitters.
The Racing Post’s David Jennings believes it is long odds Constitution Hill will ever be risked over fences. I think it is even money. Constitution Hill has abundant scope and enthusiasm. He is also clever, as he exampled at the last flight at Cheltenham a few weeks ago. Nicky could sell tickets for the end-of-season secret schooling session.
As I opined when there remained the possibility of Honeysuckle opposing Constitution Hill at Cheltenham, when these sort of decision are made consideration should be taken for what is in the best interests of the sport. We live in straitened times. The decisions of our rubbish politicians make all our lives difficult and perilous. The same applies to our sport.
When I was in my formative years, when more wet-behind-the-ears than in my dotage when I remain naïve in so many aspects of human life, in Lambourn there was a precocious young steeplechaser called Mill House, the best horse Fulke Walwyn ever trained. In Ireland, out of my focus as a nine-year-old Bristol schoolboy, there was Arkle, not yet ‘Himself’ but the horse that became the best any of us had ever seen. As a child with a limited understanding, though a fascination, for a sport as far removed from city life as a trip to the moon, Mill House was ‘my team’ and after his belief-affirming ‘demolition’ of the Irish upstart in the Hennessey Gold Cup, unable to achieve a bunk-ff from school, I ran the best part of 3-miles home from school in order to see him repeat the ‘thrashing’ in the Cheltenham Gold Cup.
We know what happened that day and on every occasion they met afterwards. Arkle was dead by the time all the relevant information (form and accrued knowledge) removed the veil of silly protective passion from my eyes. The day Arkle first defeated Mill House I was broken-hearted. I can still feel strands of that disbelief even now. I was growing-up at a time of steeplechasing’s greatest moments and it was only when it was over could I accept the truth. Arkle was supreme and, as my knowledge of the sport increased, I had no choice but to accept Arkle’s place at the top of the pantheon of great racehorses and acclaim his staggering achievements in handicaps as feats of wonder. In time, achievements that will become seen as much myth and legend as the stories of Arthur, Camelot and Sir Galahad.
In the present day, in Ireland there is this potentially great horse Galopin Du Champ. In Lambourn, there is this potentially great horse Constitution Hill. Our sport is at a pivotal moment in his history, as, I would suggest, it was when the immortal Arkle came to the rescue. 
Both Nicky Henderson and Michael Buckley are of a similar age. It might be said of people their age that their best days are behind them and anything achieved in their dotage can only be thought of as last-gasp bonuses. Yet, incredibly, for both of them the best might yet be ahead of them. Their joint decision this summer might have a major bearing on the future health of our sport.
When such decisions are made what is best for the sport should override personal predilection, I believe. If Constitution Hill is trained from next season as a potential Gold Cup horse, we have the tantalising prospect of living again the same tantalising prospect our racing forebears enjoyed when Arkle and Mill House were rematched in the 1963 Cheltenham Gold Cup and for that period of time when it remained possible that Mill House might achieve his revenge.
I wouldn’t put money on Michael Buckley winning the debate come the summer but I hope for the betterment of the sport that Nico sides with the owner. Pat Taaffe had ridden many great horses before he sat on Arkle, as has Nico. The stars are aligning. 
Be brave, Nicky. Be brave.

​Last week in the Racing Post – I now subscribe on-line – Chris Cook wrote an admirable piece, the kind where at the final full-stop you feel a round of applause is deserved, outlining and detailing the countries around the world where in one form or another horseracing takes place. The following is where I unashamedly steal (make use) of Christ Cook’s faultless research.
Countries that stage internationally recognised Group races: Argentine, Australia, Chile, Denmark, France, Germany, Britain, Hong Kong, Ireland, Italy, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Sweden, Turkey, U.A.E., U.S.A.
Countries listed under the International Federation of Horseracing Authority: Algeria, Austria, Bahrain, Belgium, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, Chad, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Greece, Hungary, India, Lebanon, Macau, Malaysia, Mauritius, Mexico, Morocco, Netherlands, Panama, Peru, Philippines, Qatar, Romania, Serbia, Singapore, Slovakia, South Korea, Oman, Pakistan, Spain, Switzerland, Thailand, Tunisia, Uruguay, Venezuela.
Affiliated Member Countries: Mongolia, Turkmenistan.
Non-Member Countries: Barbados, China, Dominican Republic, Finland, Jamaica, Trinidad & Tobago.
Non I.F.H.A. Affiliated Countries: Burkino Faso, Cameroon, Ghana, Kuwait, Lesotho, Libya, Mali, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, Zimbabwe.
Former I.F.H.A. member Countries: Columbia, Iran, Israel, Kenya, Lithuania, Madagascar, Poland, Portugal, Russia, Ukraine.
From the group that comprise those countries forming the International Federation of Horseracing Authorities, at random I chose to conduct a wee bit of research into racing in Algeria, Bulgaria, Chad and Serbia, to satisfy my curiosity as to how professionally organised it might be, how popular with the public and how well-cared for were the horses.
There is only a minimal amount of horseracing in Algeria; not enough to engage my curiosity towards thorough research. In Bulgaria, on the other hand, there is an aspiration to build a pukka racecourse at Bourges on the Black Sea Coast to be called Todorovden. There is already an historic racecourse near Plovdiv in the village of Voyvodinovo and there is a day in Bulgaria designated ‘Horse Easter’ which celebrates all-things horse-related to the country and this includes amongst the festivities a couple of horse races. Horseracing in Bulgaria is overseen and promoted by The Heroes Club, founded in 1982.
In Chad, to my surprise, there are 25 organised race-meetings at N’Djamena, with the main race of the year the Grand Prix of the Republic. Far from professional, Chadian racing is best described as enthusiasm overcoming the harsh realities of life. The leading owner of racehorses in the country was quoted as saying ‘the gains do not cover the expense.’
Serbia has had to overcome war and their horseracing is about recreating  the past. It has bone-fide racecourses at Bogatic, Belgrade and Zobnatica. The Bogatic Hippodrome holds several meetings a year, with the Christmas event usually drawing a crowd of 8,000. The course at Belgrade was constructed in 1912 and is considered Bulgaria’s main racecourse. Whilst Zobnatica came into use in 1921.
While it is heartening to be confronted by a world-wide enthusiasm and interest in horseracing, while it is also enlightening and downright surprising, it concerns me that though more racing around the world benefits the breeding industry, isn’t it on the same lines a further possible threat to horse racing in Britain and Ireland?
Already the up and coming racing nations of Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain etc, export so many good quality horses from Europe, along with Australia, the U.S. and others, to race for prize-money that dwarfs by comparison what can be won in Britain and Ireland, that it might only need two or three other countries with aspirations to go full-on racing-mode to deplete reserves of horses here to the point it tips our racing on a downward spiral to match  the generally poor standard around the globe.
I could be suggesting that a publicity drive in many of these overseas countries to highlight the possibilities of working in the breeding and racing industry in Britain and Ireland, or indeed owning horses, could prove beneficial even if it may be costly. And without people native to Britain and Ireland willing to work in the industry the sport will atrophy anyway. By nature, and experience, I am a pessimist. Old age doth wither both hope and expectation.
Chris Cook’s article, which is a wonderful example of an excellent writer informing his readers of an unconsidered topic far away from finding the next winner, opened my eyes and set my imagination wandering. Perhaps I like to worry over matters out of my remit, and perhaps the article highlighted my parochialism, the wrong belief that horseracing belongs heart and soul to Britain and Ireland. And, exhibiting a latent xenophobia, it pains me to think that exported racehorses are not as well-cared-for in foreign countries as they are, or should be, here. What the article did bring into sharp relief to me, as it should in everyone with a love and concern for the sport, is the longer prize-money in this country remains pathetically low at the lowest end, the greater becomes the jeopardy of British racing slipping further and further down the league table of global importance. At the moment, flat racing survives on reputation. Once, like Gods of myth, we were immortal.