racing with the gods. marcus marsh.

​There was a time when publishers thought there was profit to be made from racehorse trainers, and racing trainers were keen to demonstrate how wrong they were as I doubt if any trainer made much of a profit with their literary exploits. I have no end (there is an end, obviously, it’s just I’m in a rush and can’t spare the time to declare a definite number) of these largely undistinguished efforts at matching the success of their careers with a similarly large number of books winging out of book shops. The latest in my collection, ‘Racing With The Gods’, by Marcus Marsh is the equal of the majority.
Trainers of Marsh’s era had the misfortune of having their careers interrupted by having to leave our shores to fight Hitler, with many of them meeting up in the theatre of war. In peaceful moments they would organise off-the-cuff race meetings, not for prize money but for something to do during lulls in activities. Marcus Marsh had the added misfortune to end up in Stalag Luft where he played his part in both the Wooden Horse and Big Tunnel attempted escapes.
Racehorse trainers of Marsh’s era came to training almost by right of birth. Gordon Richards excepted, of course, few jockeys were granted training licences as they did not have the financial wherewithal and social position to turn their hand to training upon retirement. Though Marsh did not take-over the stable of his father Richard, trainer to the King, he did have the benefit of acquiring the owners of Fred Darling, his uncle, when he retired. Though he had to prove himself, it can be fairly said Marsh started his career several rungs up the training ladder.
He won the 1934 Epsom Derby with Windsor Lad, the best horse he ever trained, at least in his own opinion, winning the St.Leger with the same horse. In 1950 he added the 2,000 Guineas to his role of honour with Palestine and achieved the Epsom Derby/St. Leger double again in 1952 with Tulyar, owned by the Aga Khan, his principal owner.
Marsh inherited the Aga Khan’s string at a time when the long-held principles of the stud farm were being questioned, and Marsh was not slow in declaring his reservations to both the Aga and Aly Khan. Tulyar bucked the descending trend but there were very few highlights during Marsh’s tenure. We think of the Aga Khan’s thoroughbred dynasty as being successful throughout the decades. Yet like all major breeding operations there comes a time when the blue-blood goes a little grey and requires a little pep here and there, stallions from different blood-lines, mares of better quality. But the Aga Khan, or to be more precise the Aly Khan, did not take kindly to kind and well-intentioned advice, terminating Marsh’s contract and then changing their mind and allowing him to keep what he had, though sending the new influx of yearlings elsewhere. As any trainer, even today, can appreciate, the buck always stops with the trainer, and if not the trainer, the jockey.
Marsh’s jockey, through thick and thin, was Charlie Smirke, who also served King and Country throughout the 2nd World War. Incidentally, Smirke’s autobiography ‘Finishing Post’ is worth a read. I shall have to re-read it if only to find out what Smirke thought of Marsh. So highly did Marsh think of Smirke that when the Aga Khan was considering offering a retainer to Lester Piggott, Marsh championed Charlie Smirke for the post.
‘Racing With The Gods’ is an okay read, though Marsh seemed keener to document his place in high society than the highs and lows of his racing career. Marsh knew all the right people, the people with influence, and these are the people who stand out from the page. His wife, or wives – he was twice married – hardly warrant a mention and his two children are only named at the very end of the book. Although I criticise writers when they over egg the pudding with family life, their should be no mystery about the nearest and dearest. It was if his wedding day and the birth of his children were of little consequence to him. To leave the family out of the life-story is to leave the reader with the idea that some sort of shame shadowed heart and home.
Marcus Maskell Marsh was born in 1904, retired from training in 1964 and died in 1983. His autobiography suggested to me that everyday of his adult life he wore a tie and cuff-links.