NO SILVER BULLET

I take this opportunity to flog a dead horse, because it refuses to give up the ghost. It seems to be impossible to stop otherwise intelligent people from insisting that British racing’s survival and prosperity depends on the sport somehow or other converting into passionate enthusiasts several million people who have for various good reasons remained indifferent to the charms of the Sport of Kings.

The masses can never be persuaded to love racing. Why not? Because it is a subject rather like chess – too big, too complicated and too intellectually demanding for the average person to handle comfortably – simple as that.

A few aspects for your delectation: breeding, owning, training, flat and jumping, the staggering beauty of the thoroughbred in its slower paces, and the amazing speed that it can achieve when invited so to do, and sometimes when not invited so to do.

This brings one to the courage and skill of all who aspire to ride these glorious beasts. Is it the most dangerous sport in the world? I think it may be (which is why all who work with horses need to be a bit special and are a bit special. Even me: I became a bit special for a few years when I was younger, and I remember those years with pride, now that I am old and ordinary. )

I almost forgot: the breaking-in process.  A skill that those special people have, without which wild animals cannot be persuaded to make friends with their masters and become content (happy, even) to do what they are asked to do. It’s magic. A magic that I never got close to acquiring. The human race is destroying Mother Nature hand over fist and remorselessly. In that context the racing community’s partnership with its animals is a glorious exception to  the lunacy of our behaviour.

More? Think turf, dirt and shavings (surfaces, or possibly bedding) oats, bran, nuts and dandelions (just a glance towards the innumerable secrets of the feed house).

Then add a whole other world for those who accept betting and the formbook as part of the tout ensemble. I have only scratched the surface of the sport, but I have no doubt that Racing is far beyond the attention span of the average human brain. This is not a hobby, it is a religion.

Continually and forever, British horse players will congregate in numbers sufficient to make a financial difference only for the Epsom Derby, for the Liverpool Grand National, and for the Cheltenham Festival. These are huge days out, which attract very large numbers for a variety of traditional reasons apart from the racing. However they only happen once a year for the Derby and the National, and only five days a year for the Cheltenham Festival.

The good news is that a solution to racing’s financial problems is perhaps just round the corner. Mr Alex Frost’s Tote has been launched in a manner which suggests that it will make a difference, and the size of difference could be humungus if it is managed properly and with the enthusiasm that has so far been such a feature of those involved.

In 1962 I remember reading the Benson Report which told anyone who was listening that British Racing was not fit for purpose – in financial terms. Fifty-something years later the New Tote is the first serious attempt to change all that.

My immediate reaction was to open an account with the Tote and deposit £20. Now I will wait to see what mouth-watering experiences it will offer me. If several million others do the same and the “bill of fare” proves appetising, the sky’s the limit for the Sport of Kings on the one hand and for a host of new and sensible gamblers on the other.

US TRIPLE CROWN

SPORT 38 (Oct 2014) commented on the American Triple Crown. That year California Chrome won the first two legs, and finished 4^th in the Belmont (the third leg). Ever alert (if somewhat late in the day) Donec decided to analyse this test for 3-year-olds.

It starts with the Kentucky Derby, early in May, over a mile. Exactly a fortnight later comes the Preakness, over just under a mile. The final stage is the Belmont, exactly three weeks later, over a mile and a half. The whole package takes 5 weeks.

So, in the spring of their 3-y-o year, horses are subjected to three highly competitive races in a very short period of time, and this process is supposed to identify the champion three-year-old.

Sensing that the US racing hierarchy needed guidance, Donec wrote to four of the top brass in the sport in America.  We explained that five weeks in the spring is not long enough  to run a meaningful “championship” for young horses, that asking three-year-olds to compete in this ordeal is very horse-unfriendly, and that it provides valid ammunition for anti-racing factions, which we understood were (and still are) active and powerful in America.

Not even one of these princes of the Transatlantic Turf deigned to reply, which wasn’t very polite, was it?

Six years later, Enter Corona Virus and what do we find? We find that this year the Triple Crown has been rearranged as follows:

Belmont  20^th June, Kentucky Derby 5^th September,  Preakness 3^rd October.

The Belmont (distance reduced from 12 furlongs to 9 furlongs) has been run and was won by a horse called TIZ THE LAW.

There follows a two month interval before the Kentucky Derby (September 5^th, 10 furlongs). Just under a month later The Preakness takes place on October 3^rd (1 mile, 1 furlong and 110 yards).

Once it was decided to move the Belmont from third place in the sequence to first, it made sense to reduce its distance. If they added a few furlongs to the Preakness, now the equivalent of Britain’s St Leger (third leg of Britain’s Triple Crown), that would make sense, but let us not ask for too much all at once. Americans take quite a long time to get the hang of things.

We must congratulate them on recognising the fact that American three-year-olds need time in which to develop their talents and achieve their potential – just like the rest of the world’s young thoroughbreds.

At this stage it is good to find something not entirely horrible emerging from the pandemic. One must hope that all goes well with the rest of the Triple Crown, and that American Racing’s top brass do not backslide into the lunacy of the past when the pandemic is over.

STARTING

For ten years or thereabouts, during the Jamie Stier Era as raceday regulator at the BHA, the horrors of big-field starting under NH rules were allowed to flourish unchecked. Mr Stier was a strange man, whose return to Australia (in the spring of 2018) was the best decision he ever made. However his fingerprints remain all over the workings of the BHA, and in particular over the horrors referred to above – hence seven false starts during the first three days of the 2020 Cheltenham Festival.

Consequently Donec found himself scratching his head. What on earth does one do to rid British Racing of a blemish so obvious and so serious that only complete idiots with no sense of right and wrong could possibly contemplate tolerating its survival?

The stumbling block facing the industry is the fact that control of the starting arrangements is now in the hands of Nick Rust and Brant Dunshea, a pair who seem absolutely devoted to the False Start and the Standing Re-Start. This must make Mr Stier very proud of them.

However all is not lost.

Racing Post 26th April 2020. Henrietta Knight did a session of Q&A. Including…

:Question: “If you could change one rule in racing what would it be?”  

 Answer:  “Improve the starts…. I thought the starts at Cheltenham this year were appalling…  The system’s wrong and something has to be done. It makes a mockery of the races. “

Does this mean that the matter will be dealt with asap? No way. So far, ten years of complaint by lesser mortals has been ignored by the BHA, which has treated the matter with indifference and ignorance, apart from occasional statements rich in misinformation, and absolutely no changes in procedure.

Miss Knight’s intervention means that at last somebody with the best possible credentials (I don’t need to remind you that she trained Best Mate to win three Cheltenham Gold Cups) has made the case for change as a matter requiring urgent reform  in language which is clear beyond dispute. The industry can take Donec’s word that the subject will feature large in the new CEO’s in-tray when he/she assumes the position. So, will the problem be addressed? Let’s not count our chickens.

O’BRIENS VARIOUS

After the Irish 2000 Guineas in which Aidan’s SAS attempted to demolish Siskin – and failed (So there is a God, after all)… After that  the world held its breath and waited for the next chapter –  the Irish Derby.

On that occasion Aidan fielded six runners and the betting was ten to one on blood on the carpet before the day was over. Not a bit of it! Never in the history of racing have six hired assassins trodden the light fantastic with more obvious concern for the rights of their opponents. The fact that Aidan trained the first four to finish tells only a microcosm of the story; at no stage of the twelve furlongs did any of his representatives look like breaking ranks, rules, legs, and/or anything else.

Wide-eyed pundits were shocked to the marrow as the most significant implications  settled in the space between their ears.

Clearly Aidan was not a compulsive who needed to be gently nursed away from the error of his ways, however fascinating he might find them.  He was (and still is) perfectly sane, knows what he is doing and can clearly switch it on and off at will. That’s extreme naughtyness, and he should therefore be allowed no slack whatsoever.

By the following morning gentler counsels had prevailed. It is possible that media references to the Great Vincent (who never resorted to Team Tactics) had played a part in Aidan’s redemption bid in the Irish Derby. What would happen if somebody alluded in a whisper to the fact that he now has two sons who are trainers and neither of them seems interested in Teamwork? How would Aidan react?

He might go into the Church.

Well, that could be one Station of the Cross too far. Why don’t we just leave well alone for the time being? Besides, there must be a chance that  the Church wouldn’t accept him.

BEST WISHES,

Donec