Thursday, October 26, 2017

Riding the rollercoaster

I didn’t write anything about Delatite’s very exciting win at Sedgefield on 3 October, partly because it was the first day of Book 1 of the October Sale and the middle of a long sales run of churning out reports day after day, and partly because I felt, quite reasonably at the time, that it was the first successful step on what might be a long career ahead.

Apart from being slow to come to hand and once impersonating a kangaroo to attempt to jump out of his stable from a standstill, Delatite has never really given us a moment’s concern, and there aren't many five-year-olds you can say that about.

Delatite on the Al Bahathri last week with Ivona
This week, however, that all changed. It’s a week I’ll long remember for the worst of reasons when in many ways it should have been a happy one. As I watched the racing at Ascot on Champions’ Day my mind was already more on what might happen at Pontefract on Monday and I can’t remember feeling more excited about a race.

Delatite had been showing such a turn of foot, both in the way he won his bumper by nine lengths and in his increasingly impressive work at home, that John had been emboldened to try for a maiden on the Flat and we both felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t be disgraced. By the time I got home from Ascot, however, John told me we wouldn’t be going to Pontefract as the horse appeared to have a foot abscess and was lame. I remember being bitterly disappointed that he would miss a few weeks’ work and would probably end up running during the next round of foal and mare sales when I would once again be unable to be there. I’d happily settle for that situation now given the events of the last few days.

After several days of strong antibiotic injections to try to reduce what NEH vet Stuart Williamson correctly felt was a leg infection rather than a foot problem, Delatite’s condition worsened by such a degree that on Tuesday evening Stuart decided he had to go into the hospital for further examination. Despite there being no outward sign of how the infection could have started, X-rays revealed that it had got into his hind fetlock joint and the suspensory ligament, a troubling assessment which meant that he would require surgery to save him, with no real guarantee of a positive outcome.

I spent much of Tuesday night awake fretting about whether or not be would be able to be stabilised sufficiently for it be safe for him to undergo general anaesthetic but he had rallied a bit by Wednesday morning and into surgery he went. Thankfully, he came through that and, 24 hours on, remains under observation in a leg cast in the ICU looking half the horse he was as he cantered around the heath on Saturday morning.

I’m fortunate of course that he’s even made it this far. I’ve had many reasons to be grateful that we live on the doorstep of one of the world’s best equine vet clinics and this is another occasion that the quiet professionalism of the excellent team at NEH has been a source of comfort. Delatite is by no means out of the woods, however, as all sorts of complications could still arise from what he’s been through, not least the fact that his good back leg is taking a lot of the strain while his other leg is in the cast, although he is at least shifting his weight across a bit.

I felt quite positive until I went to see him again this afternoon, less woozy now than he was after anaesthetic yesterday but with a look in his eye that was a mix of bewilderment and pain. It probably sounds stupid to people who don't spend much time with horses but when you see a horse every day you know their expressions as you would a member of your own family and the expression on the face of the usually kind and sweet Delatite was one I hope I never see again. There is of course only one way for him to get better and that’s by going through this awful recovery, and while I pray he continues to recover I also hope that the discomfort he must be feeling will be short-lived.

There have been happy moments this week, and Sussex Girl winning her second race in less than a week was certainly a highlight. It has in fact been a particularly pleasing second half of the season for this stable. The horses are currently running at about a 40% winning strike-rate, which is incredible, and from my own perspective I’ve been hugely fortunate to see my colours carried to victory five times this season – the first four by the mighty Hope Is High, who is now on her winter holiday, and most recently by Delatite.

As much as I love Hope, who has now won five races and has never been unplaced for us, it was Delatite’s win that meant the most and will remain one of the best racing days for me, even though I couldn’t be there. I bred Delatite from the first racehorse I ever rode when I arrived in Newmarket. Dear old Desiree has been a bit of a hopeless broodmare until this horse came along, but like her son she has a lovely nature and has been a very good mother to her foals.

It’s unclear what the future holds for Delatite. If he can survive beyond the weekend, and another week or so in NEH, then hopes for him having some kind of comfortable life in retirement will improve. At this stage it seems unlikely he can ever return to being a racehorse but only time will tell. The only thing I do know is that I’d give back every single win and happy day of the year for this never to have happened to him.

Tuesday, August 01, 2017

At the going down of the sun

It is always worth keeping a sense of perspective, or trying to at least. Last night I watched part of the service of remembrance from Ypres to mark the 100th anniversary of the Battle of Passchendaele. Despite the fact that my husband thinks I have a heart of flint, I had tears rolling silently down my cheeks listening to stories passed on to the relatives of survivors. Stories of complete and utter horror, that many of us, in our cosy, easy lives these days, couldn’t even begin to imagine.

The wonderful Hope Is High, as honest as her trainer
And I was thinking about those sacrifices made mostly by men young enough to be my sons as I drove home from the races today, telling myself to get a grip for feeling so miserable after what was essentially the best run of Hope Is High’s career. She was second, beaten a head, after stumbling coming out of the stalls, losing at least six lengths and causing Silvestre de Sousa to lose an iron temporarily. Silvestre’s a brilliant jockey – as is evident from yet another four-timer on the day from him even without our red-hot favourite – and he did his best to rebalance the filly and work their way into the race until they had a fighting chance. And fight they did, all the way down the straight, a head to the deficit at the post, and ahead of the winner The Detainee two strides later. Ah well, that’s racing. It’s a small disappointment on an otherwise nice, sunny day, and both horse and jockey have walked away none the worse, which is the only thing that matters.

This wasn’t what put me in a bad mood. That started when a foul-mouthed racegoer leaned over the rail, clearly disgruntled at backing a losing favourite, telling Silvestre he should have “f***ing hit it”. I felt like hitting him but managed to keep my cool until John’s phone rang as the ‘horses away’ announcement was made. It was from a withheld number and it was quickly easy to ascertain that John was on the receiving end of an earbashing from someone, who it transpired called him a number of names and implied that he had cheated.

The mood darkened further still when the lady serving the tea in the owners and trainers’ area adopted a ‘computer says no’ attitude and refused to give John a cup of tea as he didn’t have a voucher (he didn't have one as he drove the horse to the races and so came in through the stable entrance instead of the main gate as I had). We both had metal badges but this wasn’t good enough for the rude person who clearly needs not to be doing a job which means interacting with members of the public.

As a quick aside, this is now the third incident within a month or so at racecourses owned by ARC where we or owners connected to this stable have encountered rudeness from staff in areas specifically designated for owners. Racecourse staff shouldn't be rude on any part of any course because everyone who is there is either with a horse and thus is helping to provide the entertainment, or is a paying customer and is entitled to be treated courteously on what is often an expensive day out. The first two incidents came at Windsor, and I wasn’t surprised by Richard Hughes’ column in the Post on Saturday, which criticised Windsor for its treatment of owners. I used to love going racing at Windsor because I grew up there so it was the first racecourse I ever attended and it still feels like going home. I’ll try to avoid going home now if I possibly can. I don't really want to add Yarmouth to the blacklist as I always love going there, even though it’s one of the shabbiest tracks in the country. But it’s convenient for us, the track is fair, there’s fish and chips or cockles and whelks with a whiff of sea air, plus the biggest pick ‘n’ mix stall I’ve ever seen. Who could ask for more? Well, a cup of tea would be nice, I suppose.

I can get over all that but I can’t allow anyone ever to call John a cheat. I’d like the cretin who phoned him to call back so we could arrange for him to spend a day shadowing John. That day would involve being up just before 5am to ride out one lot with Lucinda before Jana, Ivona and Abbie arrive. The dedicated Lucinda then goes off to work for Juddmonte while John rides usually another four lots, along with feeding and dealing with the never-ending amount of admin before either going racing (always driving the box), or spending the afternoon writing one of his various columns for TDN, Winning Post or Al Adiyat, or perhaps doing a shift on ATR. If he’s not at the races, he’ll always be at evening stables, feeding again, perhaps fixing fences, etc. During all of this he rarely loses the smile and friendly manner that so many people in this town and in the wider world of racing love about him. 

His smile might slip if he realises I’ve cooked him something suspiciously spicy for supper, but if it’s good old meat and potatoes, he’s happy until he falls asleep, usually in his armchair around 9pm.
Underneath the smile, though, just like any other trainer, John has an unrelenting desire to win. It’s not a win-at-all-costs attitude that would ever see him overlook the welfare of a horse just to keep the strike-rate up, but he needs winners for his own sense of pride in the job that he’s doing, for his owners, their horses, and the people who work with him in this yard.

Anyone who thinks that John would stop today’s 5/4 favourite winning by cheating has no idea what it means to him every time another number 1 goes up on the board next to his name. Nobody remembers all the places you chalk up – and Hope has never been out of the places for John – it’s the winners that matter. Losing out on one today mattered to John, but being called a cheat hurt him even more than that.

Even winning would only have brought an extra £1,700 to this year’s tally – Yarmouth's meeting being embarrassingly impoverished next to the riches on offer this week at Glorious Goodwood – but it would also have brought an enormous amount of satisfaction and joy. For being beaten that head, we ‘brought home’ £547 instead, though once we take into account entry fees, jockey fees, box hire, diesel for the lorry and my car, and Jana’s expenses for the day, more than £400 of that is already accounted for. And if we hadn’t run Hope, whose form figures at Yarmouth are 2-4-1-2, thus guaranteeing she’s always a good betting proposition there, only seven runners would have lined up for the race, a figure that the bookmakers demanding yet more and more fixtures hate to see.

So we played our part, brought our horse along, were rewarded with abuse and rudeness, and left with a feeling that if ARC doesn't start to pull its finger out and commit to honouring the minimum £6,000 prize-money levels as called for by the BHA through the extra funding being made available next year, then it’s really not worth supporting their tracks. Well, maybe our beloved Brighton, but the staff are never rude there, and it’s Roy Rocket’s favourite so we have no choice.

Of course, in the wider world, none of this really matters at all. The sun is sliding down, it will rise tomorrow and I will feel less grumpy. The boys lost at Passchendaele enjoyed far too few sunrises in their short lives, and that’s something which brings true sorrow, even to this flint heart.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

From Florence to Delatite

Florence Annie and Billy Barnes in their 1942 engagement photo
Ten years ago, the Easter weekend was spent in and out of hospital visiting my grandmother Florence Annie Barnes after she’d had a stroke.

She was in and out of consciousness for the last few days of her life so I’m not sure really how aware she was that her son, daughter and eight grandchildren were there at different times over that weekend but I’ve always just hoped that she somehow knew.

She was a very small person who had a very big influence on my life ­– one that continues in everything that I hold dear as we approach the tenth anniversary of her death. I used her full name above because when she was alive I was the only person who could get away with calling her Florence Annie. She hated her real name and all her friends knew her as Nan or Nancy. I like to think that as her eldest grandchild I had special privileges but, in truth, she loved us all the same and, in my biased eyes that still cloud with tears when I think about her, she was the perfect loving and indulgent grandparent, with an amusingly feisty edge at times.

I’ve been thinking of her quite a bit this week, not just because Easter is approaching, but because today at Towcester we run Delatite, a living, breathing, furry, 16-hand reminder of her legacy.

When Florence died she left some money to each of her grandchildren. I’m sure that my three sisters spent theirs more wisely but mine was foolishly frittered away on the decision to send Desiree to stud. I started riding Desiree when I first met John and became so attached to her that when she retired from racing I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving us for good.

In truth she wasn’t really good enough to be a broodmare, though I live in hope that Delatite, her third foal, may prove me wrong. It almost certainly won't be today. It’s his second run in a bumper and even though it’s a small field, almost all of our opponents boast quite good recent form. He wasn’t disgraced on his debut on Boxing Day, however, and he appears to have come on a bit since then so we’ll see. But we travel very much in hope rather than expectation.

The real Delatite
Incidentally, the photograph to the left is the view looking across to Mount Buller from Bob's Cottage at the Ritchie family's lovely farm Delatite in Victoria, Australia. It's one of my favourite places in the world and was the inspiration for this horse's name.

Whatever happens today or in the future for Delatite, his full-brother Dear Alix and half-brother Dereham, they and their mother have already given me more fun and pleasure than any other hobby I could imagine. I say hobby because even though I take the business of breeding very seriously when I am writing about it for work, my personal involvement is a mere toe in the water compared to the major breeders around the world.

It’s taught me plenty, however, not least the art of patience. Any morning I’ve managed to sneak away from my desk to see Desiree and her various youngsters over the years in Norfolk have been hours that I’ve cherished.

Desiree’s breeding record is not good, though she still has some chances to come and I remain convinced that Delatite will be her first winner, even if it’s not today. She’s still very much a part of the family and is living in retirement as a companion at Hilborough Stud with Chris and Nicky Murray who have looked after her so well throughout her career as a broodmare.

She’s still young enough to be brought out of retirement should any of her offspring suddenly do something extraordinary, a scenario that wafts across my mind every now and then.  And that’s the other great thing about breeding horses – the chance to dream. Of course reality is likely to come crashing down around our ears eventually but no-one can take away those quiet moments of joy as you watch a young foal gambol across a field and wonder to yourself if he might just be the one.

Thursday, September 08, 2016

Now cracks a noble heart

Ex Con wins for the fifth time, with the All Points West P'ship
There are no worse days in racing than when you have to say goodbye for the last time to a much-loved horse. Today has been one of those days.

Even sitting down to write this has made the tears return but I can’t finish the day without paying tribute to our old friend Extreme Conviction who left this world peacefully at noon. 

He’s actually been gone from this stable for more than three years but he’s never been far away as he retired to become an extremely valued member of the British Racing School’s team of horses, a fact which fortunately meant we were able to visit him regularly and hear constant news of his progress from our friends there.

Ex Con, ridden by Anthony, with Alcalde and John
Known by one and all as ‘Ex Con’, the giant son of Danehill Dancer had been an expensive yearling and initially joined Jeremy Noseda’s stable after John Warren bought him for €110,000 at the Goffs Orby Sale.

However, he proved to be a rather backward sort and two years later Ex Con ended up as an unraced three-year-old in the July Sale at Tattersalls, where John was able to buy him for the All Points West Partnership for 8,000gns. His owners Ken, Tim, Jason, Kevan and Richard were all big jumping fans and the big, rangey gelding appeared to fit the bill as a future National Hunt horse.

In the March of his five-year-old season he won a bumper at Stratford under Will Kennedy, and went on to win four more races over hurdles, three with Will in the saddle and once with Rhys Flint. Obliging in every sense of the word, the dear old boy even managed to spark huge celebrations by winning on Ken’s 50th birthday.

With his biggest fan Gemma
Ex Con’s racing career wasn’t without issues. A tendon injury forced a prolonged break towards the end and he ultimately had a breathing problem plus the occasional bout of lymphangitis, which, combined, hastened his retirement in the spring of 2013. 

The Racing School takes on a number of retired racehorses each year and it was decided that Ex Con fit the bill perfectly to join their team. Not only was he a really easy ride – witness the fact that among this story you will find a photo of Anthony, then aged nine, riding him on Newmarket Heath – but he was also a very good jumper, making him a valuable asset for the jump jockeys coming to the school to complete their licence training.

Over the years, Ex Con became as adored by the team of staff and students there as he was while he was at our yard. He was stabled for most of his time at BRS next to a rather better credentialed jumper in the Grade 1 winner Our Vic, but I know he was every bit as cherished as his more illustrious neighbour. Simply, it would be impossible to find a kinder horse than Ex Con and this naturally made him a favourite of the students, a number of whom had never even sat on a horse when they arrived at the school.

Behaving like a true gent in a BRS lesson
Through the last few years, Ex Con continued to suffer intermittent bouts of lymphangitis, a condition which caused his off-hind leg to swell up on occasion, sometimes to a very painful degree. A lymphatic drainage expert eased the situation last year with the addition of a special boot and compression bandages but in recent weeks the problem returned with a vengeance and was causing him considerable discomfort. 

The BRS team, led by Julie Lingham, who devoted hours and hours of her own time to looking after Ex Con, did an excellent job in managing his problem and keeping him sound and happy to continue his role at the school.
Adored by his trainer, as he was by us all

Within the last week, however, it became apparent that we were fighting a losing battle and sadly, on veterinary advice, we all decided that it was no longer fair to ask him to carry on. It’s not a decision that can ever be taken lightly and, even though I knew deep down it was the best thing for the horse, I’ve spent the last few days questioning it and praying for a miracle. 

There was of course no miracle but I’m grateful to have had the chance to say goodbye properly, and to know that every avenue was explored in trying to save him. Many racehorses don’t make it to the age of 12, but for me, this was still far too young for him to have left us. We were so lucky to have him with us for as long as we did. 

Rest peacefully, Ex Con. I only wish you knew how much you were loved by so many.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

In praise of red mares: from Annie Power to Indira

Cheltenham week is always one of my favourite times of the year but I can't ever remember enjoying the Festival more than I did this year.

Annie Power greets her adoring fans
There's a kind of ritual involved now. The racing calendar means our lives are pretty much governed by certain key meetings each year and with Cheltenham the details are reassuringly and deeply etched.

It starts at Lou and Charlie Eddis's house on the Friday before the Festival kicks off, their annual dinner and tipping contest, which was initially our old Pacemaker crew and now includes a few extras, being one of the social highlights of the year.

The Monday of Festival week is more exciting than Christmas Eve for fans of jump racing, and the annual gathering of my dysfunctional Festival family, made up of various miscreants from from the racing press room, takes place at Durcott House where we gather ahead of the traditional Cheltenham eve curry. This year's housemates were Ed Prosser (main organiser and breakfast chef), Tom Peacock, George Primarolo, Martin Kelly and Hayley Moore. Julian Muscat joined us for one night, just to ensure there was at least one evening when we all stayed up far later than we wanted to and drank the house dry of red wine, and George's wife Sally swapped Beverley Racecourse, which she runs very efficiently, for Cheltenham on the final day.

Celebrating St Patrick's Day with Zoe Vicarage
The week got off to a bad start for me when my car started flashing lots of warning lights on the way into the racecourse on Tuesday morning. Fortunately we made it into the car park and the AA towed it away to be magically fixed for a small fortune. Such inconveniences were quickly overlooked, however, when Annie Power waltzed her way to victory in the Champion Hurdle several hours later. Remembering the roar as she was brought in to the winner's enclosure still sends a shiver down my spine. She seemed to love the adulation, too, as she stood still with her ears pricked towards the gallery while the cheers rang out.

I've been at Cheltenham for all sorts of special occasions - Istrabraq's third Champion Hurdle, Best Mate's third Gold Cup, the battles of Denman and Kauto Star - but I'm pretty sure none of them received such a rapturous reception as Annie. I went home thinking we wouldn't see anything as special as that for the rest of the week but was proved wrong only 24 hours later. Even Nicky Henderson admitted that he never dared to hope that Sprinter Sacre could come back as good as he once was but hearts and voices soared collectively as the great beast cruised past the young upstart Un De Sceaux coming down the hill with two fences left to jump. After that it was just a case of praying that he got home in one piece, which he did, to a reception pretty much on a par with Annie Power's.

The fabulous team of Sprinter Sacre and Nico de Boinville
For me, they were the two stand-out moments, but there were plenty more, and if I had to nominate three young stars of the game, they would be Thistlecrack, Nico de Boinville and Joseph O'Brien.

Thistlecrack, whose extraordinarily effortless victory in the Ryanair World Hurdle brought up a treble of Grade 1 wins for the wonderful Kayf Tara, isn't actually that young but he is still a relatively new name to us all, having been minded so well through his early years by Colin Tizzard. The trainer praised the horse's owners John and Heather Snook for their patience and they wouldn't have been empty words because there is almost certainly nothing jumps trainers – and many of their flat counterparts – want more than owners with great reserves of patience. Great reserves of cash come in handy too, of course, but owners who have patience and are prepared to go out to buy an untried youngster and let a trainer take his or her time with that horse can be rewarded with success for a fraction of the price that some of the form horses command. Thistlecrack wasn't a real cheapie – he still cost €43,000 as a three-year-old store at the Tattersalls Ireland Derby Sale – but I'm guessing that's around a tenth of the price that some of his equals have changed hands for when being imported from France.

Joseph O'Brien faces the press after his first Cheltenham win
On the subject of Nico and Joseph, if they will forgive the familiarity, it is especially nice to see two very talented young men act without a shred of arrogance or entitlement in their moments of triumph, but instead deflect the praise to the equine talents who have helped to elevate them.

Having had a random encounter with Nico de Boinville at the Swedish Grand National meeting some years back when he was riding in the Fegentri series, I've followed his career with interest and could not have been happier to see him win last year's Gold Cup with Coneygree. He's long been hailed as the work rider of Sprinter Sacre and other good horses at Nicky Henderson's, and credit must go to the trainer for putting his trust in the young jockey to fill the saddle vacated by Barry Geraghty when Sprinter returned to the track. His loyalty has been duly rewarded by a jockey who has as cool a head as anyone far senior to him in the weighing-room, and one which I hope will feature in many more big-race victories in years to come.

Indira gave us cause for celebration on Saturday evening
There will be many people who throw silver-spoon accusations at Joseph O'Brien, and he is the first person to admit that he had access to a phenomenal range of top-class horses during his riding days. Plenty of jockeys would have been found wanting when put under that much pressure at such a young age but, in my amateur opinion of jockeyship, Jospeh rarely put a foot wrong and, like Nico, rode with an assuredness way beyond his years. I'm sorry we won't see him race-riding again but I'll look forward to following the next stage in his career and wish him plenty of luck along the way.

John Cobb's comments in today's Racing Post about how much harder it has become for smaller owners and trainers to compete at Cheltenham of course have resonance in this yard. John has had two runners at the Festival over the years, with dear old Diamond Joshua finishing third in the G1 Triumph Hurdle back in 2012. We live in hope of having a horse to take to the big meetings, but it is getting harder to compete, for horses and owners, on the flat and over jumps.

Ethics Girl and her long-awaited first foal by Anodin
We are extremely fortunate to have the horses and owners that are already here in the stable and the joy of having a winner is multiplied many times over when it happens to be for a syndicate of really nice and patient people. The Severn Crossing Partnership, which races Indira and includes her breeders Louise Parry and Peter Steele-Mortimer, had plenty of fun with her at three, when she won twice and seemed never to be out of the places, but the price of that consistency in handicaps is that it can take a long time for a horse of a certain level to win again. Hope and fun have always been the watchwords for this syndicate, however, and there was plenty of excitement when Indira returned to the winner's enclosure on Saturday night, having been backed by most of us at double-figure odds.

Desiree's Sir Percy colt, who will be named Dereham
That lovely winner wasn't the only joyous occasion of the week on the home front, however, as our old stable star Ethics Girl, who I am lucky enough to now own in partnership with Lawrence Wadey and Bruce Sherwin, produced her first foal on Thursday at Haras de la Cauvinière. He's a fine colt by Anodin and if he's anywhere near as game, hardy and sound as his mother then he has a very good chance of being a proper racehorse.

A wonderful week was capped off by a Sunday morning visit to another colt foal, Desiree's son of Sir Percy, who is bonny and bold and looks very much like his father. I'm not sure how amused John will be when I ask him to make a Derby entry for him, but there's no point breeding horses if you can't dream a little.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Green Desert remembered

As mentioned in yesterday's EBN, I was one of the lucky ones to visit Green Desert in his final years. While some people are excited by a chance encounter with a pop star or actor, I know I'll never grow tired of meeting famous racehorses, particularly those who continue to have such an influence through the current stars of the track. 

Without Green Desert, who died on Wednesday, there would be no Golden Horn, Muhaarar or Shalaa, to name but three of his grandsons who have made such an impact on this season alone.  The morning I spent gawping at him in his vast paddock at Nunnery will long burn bright in my mind's eye. I knew then that he wouldn't be with us for much longer, and it is to the immense credit of the team at Shadwell that he lived on for another two years to the age of 32. Below is the piece in full that was written for the Racing Post shortly after that visit. He may be gone, but we will conitnue to hear plenty about Green Desert for generations of racehorses to come.


POEMS about horses are guaranteed to bring a tear to the eye and there’s none lovelier than Philip Larkin’s At Grass, which depicts two retired racehorses out in their paddock long after the echoes of their final race call have died.

‘Almanacked their names live; they have slipped their names, and stand at ease.’

Green Desert patrols his paddock, September 2013
Larkin’s evocative words were brought to mind recently when, on a visit to Shadwell’s Nunnery Stud, an enjoyable hour was spent wandering the stallion paddocks with Ron Lott and Rachael Gowland. With no disrespect to Sheikh Hamdan’s active stallions, arguably the biggest treat was saved until last as we made our way to the bottom of the hill to pay homage to the grand old man of Shadwell, Green Desert. Now 30, the son of Danzig still has a glint in his eye which unmistakably says, ‘look but don’t touch’, and though he’s diminutive when viewed straight after the strapping Nayef, his reputation will stand tall for generations to come.

It’s no mean feat for a thoroughbred stallion still to be breathing at 30, and Green Desert was only stood down from active duty two years ago. There isn’t space here to do justice to his stallion career. In what it’s fair to call a current golden era for British sires – his own son Oasis Dream being high up in the pecking order along with stud mate Dansili, Dubawi, Pivotal, New Approach and, hopefully, Frankel to come – the pensioner still shades them all as the most influential stallion on these shores.

His reputation is earned chiefly through his stallion sons – Oasis Dream, Invincible Spirit and Cape Cross all occupy top 20 positions in Europe, and Byron has been represented by top-flight winners in the UK and America this year. In New Zealand, Volksraad was champion sire for six consecutive seasons, while Desert Sun will be best remembered for his influence in Australasia as the sire of Sunline and broodmare sire of Black Caviar.

Green Desert didn’t let the side down on one of the rare occasions that Hasili was allowed to visit anyone other than another of Danzig’s great sons, Danehill. Their liaison resulted in the dual Grade 1 winner Heat Haze, now the dam of one of the most eye-catching juveniles of the season, the recent 15-length maiden winner Radiator. Hopefully her turn to heap further glory on an already over-achieving family will come in next week’s Shadwell Fillies’ Mile.        
The dark, stocky Green Desert, his coat still dappled even in his dotage, is more though than just a name on numerous catalogue pages. For many years after prized colts have left the care of racing yards, they are tended to by some of the unsung heroes of the breeding business, the stallion men. There are a few women, too, such as Yorton Farm’s admirable Lucy Dawson, but largely the role remains a male preserve.

Green Desert, age 30, September 2013
Despite the fact that Ron Lott’s eyes mist slightly when he talks about his beloved and clearly much-missed Unfuwain, he’s no softie. His years at Nunnery Stud stretch back to the days of its ownership by Sir John Musker and for nearly three decades, while other big-name stallions have come and gone, Green Desert has been a constant in his life. Ron speaks of the veteran with the wary admiration a matador might have for a bull. Dealing with stallions every day is not for the faint-hearted and respect must be earned on both sides.

“I hate the thought of anything happening to him and I’ll miss him when he’s gone because of everything he’s achieved,” says Ron.

Won’t we all, almanacked though his name may be.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Nothing to report but lots to say

My job dictates that I spend quite a bit of time talking to breeders who have enjoyed great success on the track and writing about their mares and families.

Oscar at Cheveral House
My own so-far-unsuccessful sideline as a small hobby breeder has given me very little to write about but I enjoy the reflected glory of 'my other mare' (John's mare) Minnie's Mystery, whose first three offspring have so far won 20 races between them, including Roy Rocket, who has won three for this stable this season.

Anyone who has read today's feature on John in the Racing Post, written by the excellent Nick Godfrey, will no doubt be surprised to hear that John would rather train Roy than Golden Horn but I know what he means when he says that. Of course we'd love to have a horse of the calibre of Golden Horn in this yard but recording a win, no matter how small, with a horse whose mating you've planned and whom you've known since the very first second he drew breath remains one of life's great thrills. Not that I'd know, of course, but I have lived vicariously through John's successes and consider that naughty monkey Roy to be my boy just as much as he is John's.

Of my own boys, there has been a fair bit of news of late. Nothing in the way of actually getting anywhere near a racecourse but the flame of hope has not yet been extinguished in my heart. Oscar's rehoming with Jade (who has looked after him so well over eight months) came to an end on Tuesday when I picked him up from Northamptonshire after she decided he was not going to go as far as she'd like him to in the world of eventing. So, in a rather sad echo of Oscar's one and only outing to the races, which ended in injury, we returned to Southwell (or very nearby) where he has joined Kate Turner's Cheveral House rehoming centre.

Kate is much more than just Hayley's mum. She's an extremely competent horsewoman and riding instructor, who clearly gave her daughter an excellent grounding in her early days, and she instantly put me at my ease when she so clearly warmed to Oscar and assured me she would do everything she could to find the right rider for him in due course. Most important was her assertion that she would not be in a rush to do anything with him. She plans to let him find his way and settle into his new home (which it sounds like he's already doing, turned out in a field of long grass with Hayley's old pony) before seeing what he's best suited to in his new career.

Delatite as a foal at a couple of weeks old
I remain convinced that a horse who moves as well as Oscar does certainly has the aptitude to do something else and I'm looking forward to hearing updates on his progress at Cheveral House, which, even on my short visit, was so clearly a haven of calm that it's hard to imagine horses not thriving there.

So that's Oscar. Next in line, Jack, was so small he didn't ever make it to the races. He now lives with an even smaller Shetland pony called Joey and is owned by our neighbour Natalie Dunn. An otherwise laidback character, Jack's one foible is a severe dislike of having his back feet touched so Natalie and I have been in discussion this week as to recent naughtiness with his new farrier. Step forward our excellent farrier Darren Rose, who does such a great job of keeping my flat-footed and soft-soled Panto sound, and has valiantly offered to tackle young Jack again.

Delatite's full-brother Alix, at roughly the same age in March
A completely different kettle of fish physically is the three-year-old Delatite. He's the little brother by age only as he's a big, strong horse and is just being broken in by John now. A little spooky through greenness rather than anything else, Del managed to cope well with being long-reined on the Severals this morning and I'm itching to see him with a rider on his back in due course.

The only filly Desiree has managed to produce so far is two-year-old Florence, by Archipenko. She may well join her brother at the yard before too long but so far has not left the farm. She's at Hilborough Stud with her mum and younger brother, who, like Delatite, is by Schiaparelli.

Delatite at two, leading a pack which includes yearling Florence at the back
Desiree and 'Alix', as we know him at home, have a fairly major outing looming as they are entered to appear at the TBA National Hunt Foal Show next Sunday at Bangor-on-Dee Racecourse. How they'll cope with this excitement I'm not sure.

Des isn't actually being judged but she'll be plaited and preened, while Alix has been a natural poser ever since he was born so is likely to be less fazed by the attention than his mother. I'm hoping he's been bred to be a winner on the racecourse – and as the biggest and strongest of Desiree's foals so far he certainly looks the part – but if he can catch the eyes of the judges and win a rosette in the meantime I'll be more than delighted.

So that's it, really. Nothing much to report in the way of success for my family just yet but there's always plenty to say - and the thing that hooks all breeders and keeps them enchanted year after year is that there's always hope.

Meeting Oscar for the first time
With Oscar I've had to admit defeat regarding his racing career but my hope for any horse who passes through this yard is that they go on to have a happy life in retirement after racing, whether it's as a competition horse, a happy hacker or even as a companion. I know that the team at Cheveral House will be doing all they can to find him a good long-term home and if for some reason that doesn't come about he can always come back to us here. The day I first set eyes on him as a newborn foal at Batsford Stud remains one of the happiest of my life, and though he may not have succeeded as a racehorse, he'll always be very special.