today is becher chase day.

​It bothers me that, at least to either my memory or knowledge, that there is not a race staged at Aintree to honour the name of the founder of the racecourse, William Lynn. Not only did he ‘invent’ the race that came to be known as the Grand National’ but he also gave the world of hare coursing the Waterloo Cup, named after the public house where he was landlord. He gave the sport of National Hunt racing something far more important than Captain Martin Becher whose immortality is constructed around diving into a water-filled ditch to save himself from the hooves of his competitors. Becher’s greater act of bravery on the day was emerging from the ditch to catch his mount, Conrad, to remount and set off in pursuit of further glory, which he failed to achieve by falling once again at the next ditch. 
Captain Becher was the most celebrated cross-country rider of his day, yet the once most fearsome obstacle in the world is so-called for an act of self-preservation. Also, a fact omitted when the story of how the sixth-fence in the Grand National was come to be called ‘Becher’s Brook is that Captain Becher never again rode in the race. Now might be the time to change both the name of the fence, given it is stripped both of its notoriety and its famous brook, and the name of today’s feature race to better fit the history of the racecourse. William Lynn, perhaps.
I do not claim the National fences have become ordinary, though if you look back to the days when the steeplechase fences on the Mildmay course were miniature versions of the big black fences of the National course itself, you might achieve some perspective on why the great race has become a shadow of its former self.
The Mildmay course was altered to become similar to the fences at every other British racecourse as the ‘strangeness’ of the Mildmay fences stopped trainers from sending their better horses to Aintree and in order to increase the status of the 3-day Grand National meeting the decision was taken to remove the birch from the fence-tops. That decision was no doubt sensible; most decisions taken by the Aintree executive since that day have been regressive, to the point where the National – I refuse to use the word ‘Grand’ in its title – has become a) a woke parody of what the race used to be about, and b) a pile-up waiting to happen.
Why b? Reflect on last year’s race, which was, I admit, a fine spectacle, so many horses packed close to one another, jumping in unison, almost. Yet what if one of the leaders had refused or skewed left or right? What if a loose horse was running with the pack and decided to do a Popham Down. Look back at the 1967 race. The reason the pile-up involved all the field, bar one, of course, is because unusually a large majority of the runners who had lined-up were still in the race. The 1967 race might not have been a mirror-image of the 2014 race but it was similar enough to make my fears impactful. 
Also, in lowering the height of the fences and seeking to increase the quality of the horses taking part, as well as removing ‘the fear factor’, the race will only get faster; it is speed that kills. One year we will get good-to-firm ground, at least by the time the race is run, and then the clerk-of-the-course will need to erect ‘Speed Kills’ signs all around the course.
The first ‘Grand Liverpool Steeplechase – it did not become The Grand National until 1847 – was run on Tuesday 26th February 1839. It was for ‘gentleman riders’; four-miles across country. No rider to open a gate or ride through a gateway or more than 100-yards along any road, footpath or driftway. It was a cross-country race. It was a test of horsemanship and while one must accept that times and mores have changed since 1839 and some of the fences back then would have frightened even A.P. McCoy, I would have preferred it if instead of mutilating the Grand National to make it a National to pacify the ignorant woke who are impossible to satisfy as long as horse-racing exists, I would have preferred the race to have gone back to its roots and become a cross-country race with a slight fear-factor.
The Becher, when it was restored to the calendar, was supposed to perform the function of a significant Grand National trial, yet only 12 will face the starter today if the weather allows and only a couple of them have any chance of achieving a high enough rating come April to get the opportunity to run in the race. In its self-seeking efforts to preserve its ‘cash-cow’, the Aintree executive have rendered a dozen races during the season muffled and void as far as being trials for the race formerly known as the greatest horserace in the world.
I remain aghast and bereft at what has been allowed to be done to the race that on first seeing become love at first sight. Worst of all, in ceding control of the race to the woke-anti’s, Aintree have put the whole sport under even greater scrutiny, its future as unsecured as the firing of the first bullet in a war between right and wrong.