The Mildmay Course.

​For the majority of its history the mighty Goliaths of the Aintree fences was all there was of Aintree racecourse, apart from the stands, stables, etc. It was not until 1950 that it was proposed to build a new steeplechase course within the boundary of the historic racecourse. For anyone not to have attended an Aintree meeting, the site is huge, with a vast central enclosure, the site of the new course. Lord Mildmay, a name synonymous with the Grand National, very much like Sam Waley-Cohen is today, two sporting amateurs to have come close to winning the great race, was greatly in favour of a steeplechase course modelled after, though smaller, the great black monsters that would remain sentinel to the new course. Lord Mildmay referred to the course he gave his name to ‘as a nursery for future Grand National horses’. Sadly, he was never to see the course completed, meeting his death in a swimming accident shortly afterwards.
You can understand the enthusiasm for a steeplechase course devised to help horses adapt to the Grand National fences later in life. It was a noble deed, only once the course was in operation trainers and owners considered it too severe, too much of a jumping test, especially for novices. In fact, the Liverpool executive had even bolder plans – a second new course, the Sefton, which would include part of the Grand National and Mildmay courses. The ambivalence of trainers to the Mildmay course perhaps dissuaded any attempt to build this second course.
The reason for a want of a new course at Aintree was the expense and disruption caused by closing the Melling Road on race-days which meant it almost impossible to stage any other meetings at Aintree except for the 3-day Grand National meeting.
The new course was officially on December 2nd, 1953, by Lord Sefton, a day made extra memorable for him as he not only won the first race over the new obstacles but his Irish Lizard won the feature race, the Christmas Cracker Chase.
The new course was initially deemed a success, with only two horses falling, though the small number of entrants was a pointer to its future. Small turnouts were a bug-bear the racecourse executives could not defeat. All through the fifties and sixties races suffered from fields of less than ten, with some as few as two. Quintin Gilbey wrote in 1955. ’Built on much the same lines as the Aintree fences, these are much smaller, but there are no better constructed obstacles in the country, and horses cannot afford to take liberties at them. It is therefore surprising that connections of horses likely to be concerned with the Grand National and other chases at the March meeting do not patronise this fixture more liberally.’
A year after the opening of the Mildmay course, the go-ahead executive started up a motor racing track, hosting the British Grand Prix five-times till 1962 when it was dropped from the Grand Prix circuit.
I used to like the Mildmay fences, though I didn’t have to ride over them otherwise my view might have matched the majority. They were different to the ordinary fences around the park courses, presenting challenges unseen anywhere else. Unfortunately, something I was unaware of at the time, horses were falling too regularly and the greater the number of falls the more likely there was to be fatalities. In 1975 the Mildmay fences were replaced by the park fences of today.
The real problem with the Mildmay course is that it incorporated several of the Aintree fences, the two fences before the Chair and the water jump and there were two open ditches in the back straight. When you consider novices were being asked to jump these fences, you can understand that the risks became ever magnified.
The new Mildmay course was also not an instant success as jockeys considered it too sharp and the bend out of the back straight and the bend into the home straight were realigned. Thankfully the adjustments met with everyone’s approval, though it remains a sharp track, almost the complete opposite to the ups and downs of Cheltenham.
Steeplechase fences are by their very construction a danger to horse and rider if not given their rightful respect and horses do on occasion fall and sadly some do not rise afterwards. I doubt if anyone will forget the day One Man died, his fall, though, I believe, was due to a heart attack and had little to do with the fence. I’ll remember the day until by own last breath. I was at home, watching from the comfort of the sofa, yet I still felt the punctured air as a tearful Brian Harding returned to the weighing room, having to leave the best horse he ever rode to the attention of people who had no place in their heart for the mesmeric grey. As with Gordon Richards, we thought we had at last worked him out. Racing went on, of course, as was its duty. It seemed disrespectful, though, didn’t it?