Tales from the Turf

by Robin Oakley

  Goodwood’s stands with their floating canopies don’t look like a concrete imposition on the countryside, more an Arabian Nights children’s book fantasy, dream castles which could be wafted away to a never-never land where the Pimms flows forever and punters back nothing but winners …

  Certainly it is quality sport. You won’t see horses running faster than they do in the Goodwood Stewards’ Cup when the sprinters breast a rise and thunder down towards the grandstands. Famous middle-distance horses like Ouija Board and Giants Causeway have burnished their reputations here and racegoers don’t forget battling stayers like Double Trigger and Persian Punch who have slugged it out over the undulations for two miles and more in the Goodwood Cup.

  Other courses have beautiful surroundings, so what makes Goodwood ‘Glorious’? Former managing director Rod Fabricius told me one year, ‘One of the joys of Goodwood is the active participation of the family of the Dukes of Richmond’, amid whose estate the course lies. All the sports practised on the estate, he said, from cricket to motorsport, had followed the passion of one or another family member. They move with the times, but draw the line at tribute bands: ‘Goodwood is first and foremost a racecourse. We are trying to be contemporary but not to lose sight of the heritage.’

  Amid the stately home business, the golf courses, the hotel, the farm shop, the Goodwood Festival of Speed involving two wings and four wheels, the racecourse, occupying just 500 of the estate’s 12,500 acres, has to contribute a profit. The racecourse chairman, the Earl of March, said, ‘We’ve been racing here for 200 years and there’s nothing else to support it except the estate, so it’s got to work.’

  The innovative management of Fabricius and clerk of the course Seamus Buckley, Goodwood stalwarts for as long as most can remember, has been crucial. Racecourse commentaries for the crowd were first introduced here. Goodwood ran the first-ever ‘enterprise meeting’ without Levy Board backing, setting the tone for racecourses being able to open up for business on the days they wanted.

  Crucial to racing quality has been their turf husbandry. One year I walked the course with Rod and Seamus at 6.00am, their sticks prodding the dew-damp turf to test the going. At 700 feet in drying winds, maintaining the course in trim to keep quality horses coming for five days is an art. Fields of horses weighing up to half a ton means plenty of depredation. Thirty tons of topsoil will be brought in to repair the racing surface after Glorious Goodwood. Intriguingly, during the winter season deer graze happily on the track surface. Then as soon as the ground staff put the fertiliser down on the course in March, the animals move off to the woods.

  Walking the track it looks so much wider than on TV. You also see how steeply some of the ground rises, how sharply the camber falls away down at Oaktree Corner where a horse running too wide would be in danger of losing its back legs.

  Many horses are trained these days not on turf but on ‘all weather’ synthetic tracks and are unused to galloping on the firm. Seamus makes sure therefore that there is always some juice in the ground. But that has made a significant difference. The horses of 1802 wouldn’t recognise the racing surface. ‘Once you water, you lose the downland turf. The profile changes. There is no going back.’

  Those old horses would still recognise though the stables built on a grand scale in 1793 by the 3rd Duke. At other racecourses the runners are stabled on site; at Goodwood they are bussed over in horseboxes from a palatial knapped-flintstone yard one and a half miles away. En route they pass the equally palatial kennels where central heating was laid on for the prized hounds many decades before it was available to the grandees living in Goodwood House.

  Looking after the animals is as traditionally British as it gets. And over an equally traditional afternoon tea the Earl of March put his finger on Goodwood’s appeal: ‘It’s the epitome of England in summer. It’s not trying to be pretentious. It’s about meeting friends and quality racing. It’s glamour coming to the country – very English.’

  Goodwood always produces quality racing as well as quality races. It isn’t just the good prize money, though that helps, but also the buzz of expectancy which the course somehow creates and the need for intelligent as well as strong riding. The year 2003 was typical. I noted that it wasn’t the pretty girls in pastels who put the gloss on Goodwood that season, nor even the steel bands which the Observer was crustily demanding be silenced. It certainly hadn’t been the weather. What made it was the character of two wonderful horses who didn’t just have ability but also the will not to be beaten – the veteran Persian Punch and the flying filly Russian Rhythm.

  ‘Keep a diary, honey, and one day it will keep you,’ advised Mae West (perhaps forgetting that only good girls keep a diary – bad girls don’t have the time). If ever there was a horse whose diary I would have wanted to read, Persian Punch was the one. Jockeys who rode him say that the then ten-year-old knew more about racing than they did. After he had become the oldest winner of the 191-year-old Goodwood Cup, Martin Dwyer declared, ‘I think he’s taking the mickey out of me. He knows where the winning post is and towards the end when I was tiring he went “Right, come on, let’s go and win”.’ With Persian Punch jockeys knew they had been in a scrap. He took a lot of stoking up. When Dwyer became Persian Punch’s regular rider, jockeys who had ridden him before advised him to take an oxygen tank out with him.

  That day it was as if Persian Punch deliberately allowed Jardine’s Lookout, another brave battler, to get close to him: he then produced one final heave to let him know who was boss. You could see he positively enjoyed milking the crowd’s emotion afterwards.

  In the winner’s enclosure, delighted owner Jeff Smith said, ‘He’s a war horse. You could see someone in armour on him charging the enemy.’ With the massive Persian Punch you could mount a gun turret between his ears and another atop his quarters and send him into the desert heading a column. He was that comparative rarity, a character Flat horse who stayed around long enough to earn the same affection as the longer-competing stars of jump racing. With Persian Punch there was always a sense of drama too. So often he won by fighting back, as if galvanised by other horses having the effrontery to pass him, and his victories were scored not by a sudden burst of speed but by eyeballing his opponents in a dour struggle for mastery through the last couple of furlongs.

  In the Addleshaw Goddard Stakes at Sandown that year the four-years-younger Cover Up passed Persian Punch but foolishly did so too soon. The old boy rattled back to catch him just before the line and win by a short head. Persian Punch won the Lonsdale Stakes at York in 1998 by the same margin from another grand stayer, Celeric. And it was only by a head that he beat his Goodwood rival Jardines Lookout in the 2001 version of the York race. In the 1998 Henry II Stakes at Sandown he was passed in an epic struggle by Samraan but once more came again to win by a head.

  As a gelding, Persian Punch, who sadly died in a race at Ascot, provoking probably the biggest public display of emotion ever seen on a racecourse, never had a future anyway in breeding. But Russian Rhythm, winner that Goodwood week of the Nassau Stakes, made sure that she would be a highly sought-after mare, not just because she was a fine big, handsome filly with an athletic walk and a high cruising speed in her races. It was the attitude she showed in races like the Nassau victory that made her such a prospect. She showed herself to be brave as well as beautiful.

  In the Nassau, Kieren Fallon tried to keep the Michael Stoute-trained filly, running over two furlongs further than she had tackled before, on the better ground close to the rail. As the two in front of him slowed and two attackers moved past on his outside he lost crucial momentum. But that was where class told. Other jockeys might have panicked: Fallon moved out and crucially waited for his filly to collect herself before launching his drive after the long-gone Richard Hughes on Ana Marie.

  Russian Rhythm, on ground she did not enjoy, stuck her head down and went for it, responding to every urging from her jockey and prevai
ling in the end by a neck. Said Fallon, ‘She has a big heart and is very game.’ It was a gameness rewarded by victory in five of her six races to that point, including three Group Ones.

  It was the same in 2010 when Barry Hills trained his 50th winner on the course and Henry Cecil was running previous winner Midday in the Nassau Stakes.

  Midday, both saucy madam and serious racehorse, could as easily have lined up with the naughty-eyed, hip-swinging chorus girls performing in the members’ enclosure as on the track. In the race she cruised into the lead a furlong out and then slowed. As a rival stormed past she slipped into gear again under Tom Queally, regained the lead and won going away as the ambulance men looked around nervously to see where the resuscitators were needed. That second burst of acceleration, which only the best can produce, was Midday’s way of saying ‘Look, I can do it any way I like’.

  In beating Stacelita and Antara, the filly twice came off a true line but she survived the first-ever televised stewards’ inquiry that followed and kept the race. So she should have done. She was clearly the best in the race and her showboating didn’t deny others their chance. It was fortunate that the race was under English rules. As former Tote chairman Peter Jones noted watching beside me, ‘In France she would probably have lost it.’ Just as well that English interpretations prevailed. Her trainer insisted, ‘They went very slow and she had to sprint, and then she thought she had done enough.’

  I sometimes meet non-racegoers who insist that the very act of racing horses represents cruelty. But horses are competitive animals and you could have no clearer demonstration of that than Midday’s reaction when, having almost pulled herself up, she eyeballed Stacelita coming alongside her. ‘She has so much raw ability that she rallied again,’ said her jockey. It was the same that day with Barry Hills’ Critical Moment. When challenged for the lead early in the straight he reacted, and when Desert Myth came at him in the dying stages he found even more for jockey Michael Hills.

  If that wasn’t enough to celebrate, we had two more winners from jockey Richard Hughes, taking him to a record nine at the meeting, beating the record previously shared by Lester Piggott, Kieren Fallon and Johnny Murtagh. Approachable and articulate, Richard is just the sort of personality racing needs. Race-riding is all about confidence and that day confidence was oozing out of every pore in his body. Yes he was well-placed in having the pick of rides from his father-in-law Richard Hannon in an annus mirabilis for an always successful yard, but on his then current form he could drive home a winner with a donkey draped across his shoulders.

  Richard Hughes is famous for coming from behind in last-gasp finishes. Before the Glorious meeting the Racing Post had interviewed him on how to ride the course – stayers’ contests, mile races and sprints – and it proved to be a masterclass from a real thinker in the saddle. Every young jockey, I suggested, should tear out the page, have it laminated and pack it with their saddle for next year’s Goodwood meetings.

  Break too fast from an outside draw trying to get to the rail, says Richard, and you can use up too much horse too early in the race. In any Goodwood contest over 1m 4f or more, the best place to be is in the first four, so you can get breathers into your horse. Don’t come wide in the Goodwood straight, you will cover too much ground. As for those heart-stopping swoops from behind:

  If you are coming from off the pace you are actually better off coming from right out the back. People complain about me and Jamie Spencer sitting last but if you sit last you can see everything that’s going on. You can go left, right or straight on. If you are two lengths closer you will almost certainly be snookered.

  That day he did it every way, including an all-the-way win on the juvenile Libranno. And the course celebrations after that record ninth victory? There weren’t any. He was off to Lingfield to ride in the 6.25. This is a jockey with the work ethic too.

  Another man who is invariably worth listening to on racing matters is Middleham trainer Mark Johnston, whose Goodwood raiders have a remarkable strike rate. Asked after his fourth success at Glorious Goodwood in 2006 how he seemingly tutored his horses in tenacity (two had scored on their second run at the meeting) and how they always seemed to battle, he replied:

  It’s simple physics. The effort required for half a ton of horse to accelerate is huge. It often looks as though a horse is coming to catch ours, but ours is staying on again. What is really happening is that when a horse accelerates it is bound to slow down again. If the post doesn’t come soon enough it looks as though our horse is going away again when it is only maintaining a level speed. The way to win a race is to cover the distance in the fastest time. The best way to do that is to run at an even pace.

  His stable motto of ‘always trying’ could not be more apt.

  The historic course always seems to provide lively betting markets too but one of my favourite Goodwood stories is of a gamble which came unstuck. I think it was Clive Brittain who told me of the day when Sir Noel Murless and one of his owners had a horse they believed was a certainty for a Goodwood handicap. It was early days, before Murless became one of the leading trainers, and they put an apprentice on the horse to help them obtain a good price. Both owner and trainer invested enough to win themselves a new car. It was a hold-up horse and the only instructions to the young rider were ‘Stay in fourth place until you pass a little red hut about a furlong and a half out. Then you can go on and win as you like. But don’t do anything before you see the red hut.’ Nobody ignored instructions from Noel Murless, but unfortunately for all concerned, since they were last on the course the hut had been painted green. The apprentice did as he was told, kept looking for the red hut, and passed the winning post in fourth with a double handful.

  One of the greatest races I ever saw in my life was at Goodwood: the contest for the Nassau Stakes in 2006 between Ouija Board and Alexander Goldrun. Ouija Board, so brilliantly handled by Ed Dunlop as she stacked up her air miles around the world’s leading tracks, wrung every last drop of emotion from a faithful crowd as she took on Jim Bolger’s well-travelled mare who also boasted a string of Group Ones on her CV.

  Both mares looked glorious in the paddock, coats gleaming, ears pricked, intelligent eyes reflecting the experience of 35 world-class races between them. In the race Frankie Dettori was back on Ouija Board after she had suffered a nightmare run under Christophe Soumillon in the Eclipse. Unusually, Frankie had her in the van from the start because he was determined not to be beaten in a sprint finish by specialist milers. He told us afterwards, ‘She was the class horse in the race. I know she stays twelve furlongs and we took it to them. I am just glad that it worked out and I didn’t mess up.’

  Lord Derby’s mare though was not the only class horse in the race. Frankie opened up a gap when he committed fully three furlongs from home. But at that point Alexander Goldrun, ridden by Kevin Manning, pulled out from last place and flew after the leader, her white blaze prominent as she ate up the ground. Two furlongs out, the hope of Ireland was in front and looking likely to stay there. But with Dettori and Manning throwing everything into it, both mares stuck their heads down and battled furiously to the line. Both had pace, neither lacked courage. The classic duel had the crowd on tiptoe and strong men spent of emotion afterwards.

  Ouija Board, applauded past the stands on her way to the start, was given three cheers when she came back. But so was Alexander Goldrun. As Jim Bolger said with that contemplative, quiet smile of his, ‘I’ve never heard such applause for a runner-up.’ Racing folk will be wearing out their replay buttons on this one for years to come.

  Monday nights at Windsor

  If ever I feel my zest for racing flagging, a day at Windsor soon sorts things out, especially on Monday evenings in the summer. Londoners can catch the train down to Windsor and Eton Riverside, amble along the towpath with the castle looming above and board a French Brothers boat down the Thames to the course. On race nights there is a service every fifteen
minutes. A drink from the onboard bar, swans and geese floating alongside and the Racing Post on your lap make for the perfect contemplative journey. True, the landing stage says ‘Deep Water’ as you arrive, but bet wisely on Richard Hannon’s horses and you can stay out of that. ‘If you become a millionaire tonight,’ said the captain last time I was on board, ‘then remember who brought you’ – but no one has handed him enough to retire on yet.

  Inside the track, jockeys thread their way from weighing room to parade ring between families picnicking on lush green grass. Jazz bands stroll between the champagne and Pimms bars and, rarity of rarities on most racecourses, you can even find somewhere to sit down, a true mercy for those of us with occasionally dodgy backs. Most of the girls dress up, although without an Ascot fascinator in sight, and most of the men don’t bother with a tie.

  The fast food outlets are the freshest you will find and they even show some style. One time I was there in a football-focussed week in 2010 the wine bar was advertising its Gavi di Gavi as having ‘a finish better than Balotelli’s’. The lively Windsor management, treading a fine line between enticing newcomers and not upsetting the traditionalists, are great believers in theme nights. You might find yourself there on a South African night or a cider night or a sausage night. ‘Ladies Nights are so popular we’d have one every night if we could,’ sales director Matthew Foxton-Duffy told me.

  That night in 2010 was a good one for Italy with jockey Andrea Atzeni knocking off a double on Mezzotint for his compatriot Marco Botti and Vasily for fellow Newmarket trainer Robert Eddery. Mezzotint was owned by former QPR Football Club chairman Gianni Paladini, who positively bounced around the winners’ enclosure, declaring emotionally, ‘Last week we got bumped and beaten a neck. This is one of the best feelings in my life. I just can’t describe it. Everyone needs something like this in life.’