BITTAR

Donec regrets Paul Bittar’s resignation and is astonished. Since the 1990s, when Lord Hartington (now the Duke of Devonshire) and Christopher Haines took racing by the scruff of the neck and dragged it into the modern world, Bittar has been the one and only quality act to appear on the scene. He extinguished the flames that were ignited by the 2011 Whip Rules crisis, he welcomed the bookmakers as allies in the struggle for racing’s survival and treated them in a proper manner (a first for the BHA), and racing is already enjoying the benefit of that entente cordiale. He also worked like a beaver to improve racing’s future in terms of government support and new sources of funding.

He was so obviously at the halfway stage in a magnificent programme that it was a great shock to learn that he was going. It was also a great shock to discover that none of racing’s leading citizens seemed to be at all upset, worried, or even slightly puzzled about this development. Well, Donec was all three (upset, worried and extremely puzzled). In the fullness of time we may become privy to the facts surrounding his departure, and one must hope that it doesn’t turn out to be a case of “try-line beckoning, BHA drops ball” or even perhaps of something more disturbing.

STARTING

In our view the BHA’s attempt to improve the process for big-field starts has solved one problem (doing things at the walk is a step in the right direction) and has failed to address two others: the Rolling Maul (an arrangement more suitable for sheep or cattle) is still in use, and no attempt has been made to incorporate that old-fashioned but vital sporting concept the fair and equal start.

However there is every chance that the penny will drop one day: the more often one sees a large field crammed together, the more chance one has to count the number of ranks in which that concentrated mass is arranged; and from that viewpoint the thinking man will be able to calculate the amount that the leaders are favoured and the rear ranks penalised. And when the race begins, that same thinking man will be in a position to calculate how many horses were “out of the race” before the field got to the first obstacle.   Providing our thinking man is of good character, he has only to deliver an affidavit to Mr Jamie Stier, who will no doubt take remedial action on the spot, if not sooner.

CHELTENHAM RACES TRIMMED

The Coral race and three others have had their maximum numbers reduced by two (28 becomes 26 for the Coral race, and 24 becomes 22 for the other three). Why? “To improve bypassing arrangements.”

The BHA doesn’t believe in elaborating its explanations, or in consulting sponsors about changes. A Corals spokesman was surprised by the change and unimpressed by the explanation – with some justification.

“Bypassing arrangements” is BHA-speak for the problem that occurs when an obstacle cannot be jumped because an injured horse or rider cannot be moved out of the way after a fall, or when an obstacle has been seriously damaged. Next time round the field is required to go round the obstacle, and space can be limited, for example between a chase course and a hurdle course.

However, the problem is not caused by the size of the field, nor is it solved by reducing the field by a tiny percentage. The problem is caused by congestion. If a narrow corridor will only accommodate eight horses galloping side by side, the idea that reducing the field from 28 to 26 will provide a solution is clearly unrealistic. The Corals spokesman commented on the possible error in the reasoning behind the BHA’s explanation and suggested that perhaps the reduction was for some different, but undisclosed, reason. Is there perhaps a growing perception in some quarters that the BHA quite often speaks with forked tongue?

WHIP RULES

Back in the news? I wonder why. Possibly because Sir Mark Prescott has returned to the subject, His wit and wisdom has always encouraged those who foregather at his ashram to join in the chorus whenever he issues a pronouncement.

Before controversy spreads once more like a forest fire, let us reflect for a long moment on the fact that the modern racing whip encourages but does not hurt.

If there is a problem, it is not to do with punishment received by horses, but punishment received by jockeys. The code introduced by Mr Stier (crime and punishment is another of his fiefdoms) in the autumn of 2011 nearly brought racing to a standstill, before Mr Bittar stepped in and oversaw a reduction in the severity of the code. That produced a system which has more or less survived to this day, but it is still based on the Stier principle that everything can be reduced to a numbers game: so many furlongs equal so many hits, so many extra hits incur bans of so many days, and so many bans incurred within so many months entitle the unlucky jockey to a sort of hellish jackpot which requires him to  stay away from his profession for so many weeks.

Interestingly enough, as Ruby Walsh recently pointed out, not one of the leading racing nations has followed Britain’s lead along what was meant to be the road to whip salvation. It seems to be the case that the rest of the world favours a combination of guidelines, flexibility and a measure of discretion, deployed by knowledgeable horsemen of good judgement (backed up by a whole arsenal of formidable punishments, if and when appropriate). They find this an infinitely more effective way of regulating the situation than the BHA’s interesting innovation.  Racing has always been a complex sport, that is part of its fascination, and the administrative arm of the BHA must make an effort to live with that complexity, rather than try to drag the sport down to its own intellectual comfort zone.

Talking of which, I notice that the front page of the BHA’s website announces that it “governs” racing. It doesn’t. It is an administrative unit consisting of salaried individuals who are paid to do a job by the various elements who make up the racing community. They are employees. I know that, and you know that, but they don’t – they clearly think that they  govern! It is quite interesting to look around and ask oneself “quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” (who controls the men in suits?)

If British Racing was an ordinary company, shareholders could rock the boat, hold the management to account and keep a grip on their investment. But that doesn’t seem to apply to the BHA. Perhaps that is why a benevolent and casual monthly assessment like this so often finds things to complain about, and so seldom reports any meaningful reaction to criticism.  Perhaps the newly-strengthened BHA Board will look into the matter.

CALIFORNIA CHROME

The internet never ceases to amaze. Yesterday evening (Jan. 29^th) I spent a blissful half hour watching this enchanting horse in many of his races (inc. Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont, Pennsylvania Derby (after a lay-off), Breeders Cup Classic, Hollywood Derby. There is even a fascinating clip of him working over six-furlongs with an interestingly prolonged pull-up (slowly, slowly, but clearly intentional.) Just google youtube: California Chrome and the name of the race….and acres of enjoyment will be offered to the applicant. At present he is heading for a race on Saturday, 7^th Feb., at Santa Anita (the San Antonio Stakes worth half a million dollars). Don’t miss it!

PORRIDGE

At some point in the distant past I recommended porridge with extra thick double Jersey cream and granulated sugar as the food of the gods. Now, about a year later, a terrible truth has been revealed. Several weeks ago I dug into this cornucopia of delights and the taste buds rebelled: they refused to countenance more than two spoonfuls.

I gave them a week to reconsider, then tried again. This time only one spoonful had passed my lips before the buds said “over our dead bodies!” and demanded that I throw the bowl at the wall. I took the hint, accepted full responsibility and exonerated both wall and bowl. It appears that the concoction is deadly – far too rich for regular consumption, even if one is thin as a rake and a regular jogger.

It wasn’t all bad news. After a month of cornflakes (not ideal in winter time) I returned to porridge, sugar and ordinary milk, cold milk. Taste buds were politely receptive, but the tout ensemble was not much warmer than cornflakes. Tepid, in fact. The matter was debated by the full Donec board at three meetings: at the first it was decided that the milk should be warmed, at the second that it must not be boiled; at the third it was unanimously accepted that hot porridge liberally coated in granulated white sugar and resting in warm but not boiled milk provides a warm glow which percolates throughout the digestive organs with each mouthful – whatever the weather.

Naming no names, this matter led to a revelation of the size of the financial problem currently facing multi-national food merchants. At a certain stage in my study of cream I found that “extra thick” cartons would turn out to contain “extremely runny” cream. Eventually I contacted head office and whistleblew: “Some of your suppliers are watering down the extra thick!” They thanked me and sent me small amounts of money in the form of vouchers. But the pattern of intermittent deceit continued, until finally the penny dropped: it wasn’t the suppliers who were cheating, it was head office. Would you believe it?

BOOKS

No news is good news in this context. I offer you an author to avoid. Recently  I tried to read a bit more of my abridged copy of Gibbons “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” – and failed. The abridged text covers 903 pages (the unabridged is nine volumes) and it is unbelievably boring and dry and irritating. He is not entirely useless, however. He will tell you true things about the early development of Christianity which your vicar would prefer you not to know. That can’t be bad.  But don’t linger.

Have you finished Boris’s book on Churchill? And did you close it with mixed feelings, as was  my experience? I’ll give you a clue to my reaction (a month after closing the book). In 1945 the electorate kicked Churchill out of office. Not because they hated him (they adored him), but perhaps because they couldn’t stand the prospect of a continuation of the merry dance on which he had lead them since 1940. That idea caused me to wonder whether that dance was absolutely the only option. Just an idea, based on hindsight, which is a treacherous basis for any assessment. Then I found myself wondering what Winston himself thought about it all, in hindsight.

DONEC’S REALLY QUITE UNPLEASANT DESERT ISLAND

I had thought it might be suitable for Tony (It was the Right Thing to Do) Blair and David (TheTote-Stealer) Cameron. Perhaps they could make room for Andy (Melt-Down) Murray. There he was, at the end of set 2, facing a double cripple (thumb and ankle), and about to win a huge victory; not doing much of anything, just waiting till the cripple fell to the ground and begged for mercy. When he found that there was no begging, no falling, no cripple, but a bounding Djock, sound in every limb, how did he react? So disappointed was he at being robbed of what he considered to be his just reward that he declined to participate further.  When the going gets tough, the tough get going. The burly young Scotsman seems to believe otherwise. My heart bleeds for Miss Mauresmo.

Best Wishes from a Snowscape.

DONEC

Tuesday, 3rd Feb 2015, 10.27  a.m.