
A bit different this week because I’m going to recall some of the days I’ve spent at various race-tracks around the north.
There’s something a bit different about a day’s racing with mates – always, of course, a bit more memorable when you’ve had a good day with your selections.
Over the years I’ve been to Cheltenham, Longchamps, Leopardstown, Carlisle, York, Newcastle, Haydock and Cartmel, with good memories of them all.
We went to Paris for the Arc in October 1989 and were able to attend the meeting there on the Saturday. It was great because we had seats in the front of the top tier grandstand, with not a lot of other spectators for company.
I remember Cash Asmussen had a field day with four winners and before the end we were joining the French in shouting home “Allez Cash, Allez Cash.”
Come the Sunday, Arc day, we arrived bright and early at the course and reckoned those same seats would do us perfectly well. No chance! It was packed and we had to make do with a ground-floor view, enhanced by Carroll House under Michael Kinane giving Michael Jarvis and the UK a fine winner.
A stag week-end in Dublin enabled us to take in some racing at Leopardstown and although the meeting wasn’t particularly memorable the time spent in the city certainly was.
We did try and find a point-to-point meeting on the Sunday but ended up watching Bray Wanderers and Athlone Town in one of the fiercest matches I’ve ever seen.
At York I saw Reference Point win the Dante Stakes in 1987 and I thought he was hugely impressive. So much so that I had the biggest bet of my life (quite an amount which I’ve never been anywhere near staking before or after) on Henry Cecil’s charge to land the Derby under Steve Cauthen.
I watched the race in the betting shop and when he crossed the line one and a half lengths clear even the girls behind the counter were cheering!
The other thing about York was that I went with a couple of mates to look round York Minster. It wasn’t long after the fire but was open to the public.
It was a terrific experience and didn’t we get locked in, so engrossed were we in the place. This was before mobile phones and it was only after sustained knocking on one of the doors that someone heard us and opened up. We were, of course, rather sheepish about it.
At Haydock I had the pleasure of shaking hands with one of my football heroes, Francis Lee, who was a successful trainer at the time.
He was last out of the paddock and I asked for his autograph which he kindly obliged and after signing I asked him if his horse had any chance he replied “I think it will win!”.
That was good enough for me and after getting him at 11/4 he romped home an easy winner. Thank you Franny!
But my other attempt at an autograph didn’t go quite so well. It was at Cartmel and I was beside the paddock with a pal when A P McCoy strode towards us to mount up. I dashed over to catch him, had a brief word and asked him for his autograph.
He readily obliged but unfortunately the pen I handed him didn’t work! I hadn’t the cheek after that to ask if he fancied his mount!