by Robin Oakley
They got to the start without incident but because of his injury Barry could not fight his wilful mount and he said afterwards that he reckoned this allowed the Dikler to ‘go to sleep’ and relax on the first circuit, though others put that down to his horsemanship.
Pendil, ridden by Richard Pitman, hit the front two out and looked to be about to justify his short price. At the last he was a good three lengths clear of his pursuers. But as the crowd cheered him up the finishing hill in anticipation of emptying the bookies’ satchels, Pendil began to falter. Ron Barry, driving his mount with every ounce of his considerable strength, began reeling him in. About 50 yards from the line he got The Dikler’s white nose in front and kept it there. Poor Richard Pitman, later a much-admired TV commentator, suffered the worst day of his riding life, only to have another in that year’s Grand National when the top weight Crisp too was collared on the line by Red Rum.
Much has been written about Desert Orchid’s Gold Cup victory in 1989 and I am not alone in having it as a special memory. When readers of the Racing Post were asked to vote on the 100 greatest races years later, this was the one that finished on top. Not, the paper pointed out, because it was won by a hugely popular horse, but because it was a great contest too.
The conditions on 16 March 1989 were foul. It was a day of heavy rain, sleet and snow. Only after a midday inspection was the ground ruled fit to race. Many worried that the spectacular grey Desert Orchid, who never seemed to like the Cheltenham track anyway, would be pulled out. Trainer David Elsworth was made of sterner stuff. He declared him to run, saying, ‘The ground is horrible and conditions are all against him, but he is the best horse.’ ‘Elzee’ even increased his bet as Desert Orchid drifted to 3-1.
Team Dessie went for boldness in the race too, rider Simon Sherwood taking him out into the lead, his easy jumping helping to conserve his energy. On the second circuit he was joined by Elsworth’s other runner Cavvie’s Clown, second the previous year, and Fulke Walwyn’s talented Ten Plus, who passed Desert Orchid at the fourteenth of the 22 obstacles. Tragically, three out, Ten Plus fell, fatally injured. Approaching the second last the tough, mud-loving Yahoo came through on the inside to take the lead. But Desert Orchid was ready for battle and set out after him.
By the last they were almost level and somehow Desert Orchid and a jockey who admits he was ‘knackered’ summoned up what was, in the dire conditions, the equivalent of a burst. Simon Sherwood said afterwards, ‘I have never sat on a horse that showed such courage. By hook or by crook he was going to win.’ With Desert Orchid drifting left to eyeball Yahoo, the mud-spattered pair’s surge took them clear to win by one and a half lengths, eight lengths clear of Charter Party, the previous year’s winner. Horse and jockey were applauded every step to the winner’s enclosure.
Sherwood had a remarkable understanding with Desert Orchid. He lost only one of the ten races he rode on him, and titled his autobiography Nine Out of Ten. Ironically the horse who won when Dessie fell in the tenth of them was Yahoo. As for Desert Orchid, the winner of four King George VI Chases and a Whitbread and of 27 of his 50 races over fences was the most popular jumper for decades. His exhilarating jumping and front-running gave him equine charisma, and though he retired in 1992 he continued to be cheered to the echo when he appeared in racecourse parades.
One of my favourite spectacles at the Festival is the Queen Mother Champion Chase, when the best two-mile jumpers take each other on over the minimum distance. In the millennium year of 2000 Edredon Bleu and Direct Route gave us one of the most thrilling finishes I have ever seen. Few races for the two-mile crown fail to excite. The speed at which the horses jump the downhill fences is terrifying, magnifying the results of any error. Usually the race is fought out between well-established stars who have clashed with little quarter given or received in races like the Tingle Creek Chase at Sandown. Owners, trainers and jockeys often tell you that this is the race they dream of winning and Tony McCoy wanted this prize above all else. On Edredon Bleu in 2000 he secured it.
Edredon Bleu, in the Aston Villa stripes of Jim Lewis made famous by Best Mate, had run second to Call Equiname in the previous year’s race. But the quick conditions this time were ideal for Henrietta Knight’s charge, of whom McCoy said, ‘I didn’t worry coming down the hill at Cheltenham flat out at 38 miles an hour – it never occurred to me that this fella might not take off.’ Direct Route, trained by Howard Johnson and ridden by Norman Williamson, had been put under pressure by Edredon Bleu’s jumping earlier on but as the two began to shake off Flagship Uberalles at the last, Williamson came upsides. Fifty yards later Direct Route was a head in front. Both riders and horses really went for it, heads down, locked together up the hill in the ultimate nostril-to-nostril duel. With 70 yards left, the knot in Williamson’s reins came undone. But nothing made any difference, says McCoy, whose television replay button gets more use than any in the country. Neither horse ever changed its stride pattern and at the line McCoy and Edredon Bleu had it by a short head.
Deputising for his regular paddock companion Best Mate, Edredon Bleu went on to win the 2003 King George over three miles. But for me that Champion Chase was his finest hour.
It was the Cheltenham Festival too which provided for me the classiest ride I have ever seen. Lester Piggott’s short head victory in the Derby on Roberto, Paul Carberry’s success on Monbeg Dude in the 2012 Welsh Grand National and Frankie Dettori’s efforts on Grandera in the 2002 Irish Champion Stakes all come into the reckoning for such an accolade, but Tony McCoy’s extraordinary victory on Wichita Lineman in the William Hill Chase at the 2009 Cheltenham Festival tops my personal list.
McCoy and Wichita Lineman were made for each other. AP likes tough, genuine horses who are prepared to give their all for a rider and he described Wichita Lineman as being like one of those boxers who would never go down however hard you hit him. He wasn’t very big, he wasn’t particularly fast, he wasn’t the perfect build for jumping fences, but he was a trier.
At the 2009 Cheltenham Festival trainer Jonjo O’Neill didn’t aim J.P. McManus’s novice chaser at one of the youngsters’ races; instead he chose to take on older, more experienced horses with him in the William Hill Handicap Chase, reckoning that he was well enough handicapped to win it. AP wasn’t quite so convinced, fearing that the small Wichita Lineman might find Cheltenham a bit intimidating in his first handicap with 23 others lined up against him.
He kicked off in a nice position, on the inside about halfway down the field, but even passing the stands for the first time the horse wasn’t finding it easy and his jockey had to nudge him along. While some of his more experienced rivals seemed to be gliding effortlessly over the obstacles Wichita Lineman was obviously finding jumping the fences a real effort. At the second last fence on the first circuit, Lacdoudal jumped slightly across Wichita Lineman, almost pushing him into the side of the fence, and McCoy’s mount pecked on landing. The mistake affected the horse’s confidence and he jumped the next fence slowly and deliberately.
Setting out on the second circuit the pair were only in fifteenth place and Wichita Lineman made another mistake at the last fence before turning down the hill. At that point Tony McCoy, hoping to set off after the leaders, gave him a couple of smacks with the whip. With three to jump, Wichita Lineman was some fifteen lengths off the pace with at least ten horses in front of him. From the stands his prospects looked somewhere between hopeless and bleak. But McCoy saw things differently. When he pulled out to get Wichita Lineman running he felt the horse pick up and reckoned they might still be in with a chance.
There was another mistake at the third last. That would have had most jockeys abandoning the struggle and waiting for another day, but not McCoy. When he pulled Wichita Lineman to the outside his mount picked up again – and then came the boldest move of all. Anxious to save a little in the tank for the gut-busting climb up the final hill, McCoy at that point let his mount drift in again beh
ind horses. That was probably crucial.
They jumped the second last well and coming round the home turn were in sixth place with one to jump. As soon as they straightened up McCoy took his mount to the outside again so Wichita Lineman would have a good view of the last fence. Daryl Jacob had kicked clear on Maljimar and for a moment McCoy wondered if he was too far gone for them to reach him. As he later described:
I wasn’t sure we could catch him but I concentrated on getting him running up the hill, about clawing back the five or six lengths the other horse had on us. It looked like a tough ask but I knew Wichita Lineman would give everything he had. We didn’t start gaining on Maljimar until about 100 yards from the winning post but when we did, we closed quickly.
First AP had to pass Choc Thornton on Nenuphar Collonges to take second place. Once they had managed that, seemingly taking an age, Wichita Lineman could see his target and could see too that he could catch the leader. McCoy asked for everything and drove with all his strength. Nobody could sum it up better than he did: ‘Stride, stride, stride, one, two, three. Gotcha! There’s the winning post. Yes!’ Only at that moment, he says, did he become aware of the din from the Cheltenham crowd cheering home the favourite.
Even McCoy, rather more given to ruthless self-criticism than to the faintest of toots on his own trumpet, declared, ‘It was probably one of the better rides that I have given any horse. In fact I’d say in my own little head I thought it was probably the best ride I have ever given a horse.’ From the ecstatic reception for horse and rider, there were few there that day who didn’t agree and the professionals took the same view. At the ensuing Lester awards for outstanding performances in the saddle Tony McCoy collected the prize for the jumps ride of the year. Tragically Wichita Lineman wasn’t around to join the celebrations. A month after Cheltenham, at the very first fence in the Irish Grand National he clipped the top and fell. Just as the horse was getting up another horse tried to jump over him and broke his back. McCoy walked away in tears.
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When in recent years I wrote my book on the Cheltenham Festival, my research led me to happy historical discoveries like the group of horsemen who used to patronise the King’s Arms in Prestbury, close to the course, in the 1850s and 1860s. George Stevens, Black Tom Olliver and Thomas Pickernell had between them ridden eleven Grand National winners, their fellow drinker William Holman trained three of them and landlord William Archer rode another. Pickernell used to ride under the name of Mr Thomas because his family were clerics and didn’t approve; in later years he was known to take a stiff drink before competing at Aintree, to the extent that he once inquired of a fellow jockey which way the horses should be facing. Later I came across characters like George Duller, the specialist hurdles rider known as ‘The Croucher’, who was virtually impossible to dislodge from a horse. He flew his own plane and later became a racing driver.
I had not realised until I began my researches that the Champion Hurdle was not run until 1927. The Gold Cup was first run three years before that but until the Second World War it was seen by many owners and trainers more as a prep race for the Grand National than a contest worth winning in its own right.
One of my early racing heroes – although of course I never saw him – was Golden Miller, five times winner of the Gold Cup and once of the Grand National, despite the fact that he had a marked aversion to the Aintree obstacles. It is at least arguable that Golden Miller’s fourth Gold Cup victory, against Thomond in 1935, was one of the greatest races ever seen. Billy Speck, who rode Thomond, died after breaking his back in a Cheltenham seller at the next meeting: it is a measure of the popularity racing enjoyed in those days that his funeral procession in the town was two miles long. His saddle, whip and colours were buried with him.
My favourite Cheltenham period was the golden age of hurdling from 1968 to 1981. Through those fourteen years the Champion Hurdler’s crown was won in some enthralling contests by just seven outstanding horses: Persian War, Bula, Comedy of Errors, Lanzarote, Night Nurse, Monksfield and Sea Pigeon. Of those only Lanzarote failed to win the title more than once.
The Cheltenham crowds loved the battered, courageous Persian War for his honesty and courage. Time after time he was patched up from injury to come back and triumph at a course he made his own.
Having won in 1968 and 1969, Persian War had not won a race since the previous Easter when he ran in the 1970 Champion Hurdle. He still managed to beat off Major Rose and win again: afterwards the horse had an operation on a ‘soft palate’ condition, which revealed that he had a broken wolf tooth that must have been causing him severe pain for months.
In 1971 he beat his old rival Major Rose once again, but the then unbeaten Bula came with a wet sail under Paul Kelleway at the last and left Persian War four lengths behind. It was Bula’s thirteenth consecutive victory, and Fred Winter’s star scored again in the next Champion Hurdle by eight lengths, despite a three month lay-off with a leg injury.
In 1973 it was the turn of Comedy of Errors, trained by Fred Rimell. Peter Easterby’s Easby Abbey made the running and still led at the last, where he was joined by the held-up Captain Christy. But the Rimells’ stable jockey Bill Smith had Comedy of Errors really motoring at that point and he swept past them like a motor launch overtaking dinghies. In 1974 though, Comedy of Errors was beaten by Winter’s Lanzarote.
In 1975 Comedy of Errors cruised up to Lanzarote when he wanted, swung wide for better ground round the bend and stormed up the stands-side rail to win convincingly. It was the first time a deposed Champion Hurdler had taken back his crown, but he was only to hold it for a year.
In 1976 it was Peter Easterby’s Night Nurse, only a five-year-old, who made all the running under Paddy Broderick to win the Champion Hurdle. Night Nurse was a brave horse who made the running not because he was a tearaway but because he was comfortable out in front, a natural jumper. He skimmed his hurdles and got away fast from the obstacles.
The next year, on very heavy ground, Night Nurse faced not only his regular and consistent rival Bird’s Nest but two more outstanding hurdlers who were to become adored by the Festival crowd: Sea Pigeon and Monksfield. Despite the appalling conditions, Ron Barry opted to make the pace as usual on Night Nurse, hoping that way to find the best ground. At the hurdle at the bottom of the hill, Monksfield hit it hard; Night Nurse jumped cleanly and was off up the rise to the winning post to record an authoritative win by two lengths. Dramatist was third and Sea Pigeon fourth. Monksfield rallied but could not get to the leader.
The tough little ‘Monkey’, trained in Ireland by Des McDonagh, had already performed in 52 races over four years by the time he came to the 1978 Champion Hurdle. That season Monksfield, who had a taste for Granny Smith apples and kept other stable inmates awake with his snoring, was two months off the course in the autumn with a leg infection. Maybe the unaccustomed rest helped bring him to a peak.
This time Night Nurse was in trouble, not skating over his hurdles with the usual facility. On Monksfield, Tommy Kinane, aware of the need to draw the finish from speedsters like Sea Pigeon, committed for home early. Approaching the last, Frank Berry, who was deputising on Sea Pigeon for the injured Jonjo O’Neill, brought his mount up to challenge. It was too soon, and Monksfield, who always responded when the gauntlet was thrown down, drew away again up the hill to win by two lengths.
The same two dominated the finish the next year. This time Jonjo O’Neill was back on Sea Pigeon and Dessie Hughes was riding Monksfield. But Jonjo too got it wrong. He attacked Monksfield on the final bend and jumped the last in the lead, confident that he was going to win. Both took the last obstacle perfectly, but halfway up the run-in Sea Pigeon began to ‘empty’ on the sticky going. Monksfield clawed his way back. Sea Pigeon’s stride shortened and, in clinging mud, Monksfield, his head lowered almost to his knees as he thrust forward, passed him 50 yards out to win by three-quarters of a length. ‘It’s a pity pigeons c
an’t swim,’ observed Easterby.
If racegoers thrill to the front-runners who set sail for home and defy the others to catch them, they thrill even more to the ‘hold-up’ horse who swoops like a predator with a well-timed burst of speed at the death, and in 1980 Sea Pigeon, who had once finished seventh in the Derby, produced just that kind of finish.
Sea Pigeon had had an interrupted preparation after an injury and was only 90 per cent fit. At the top of the hill, his jockey related afterwards, he was wheezing and gasping. So Jonjo switched him off, gave him time to get his second wind, and jumped the last this time a length down on Monksfield. They landed level and Sea Pigeon produced such a surge of power that they were clear halfway up the run-in, sooner than the jockey had intended. They went on to win by seven lengths to the roars of an ecstatic crowd.
The Cheltenham crowd loved the classy, quirky Sea Pigeon and they loved Jonjo, whose cherubic grin and twinkling eyes were accompanied by a steely determination in the saddle. Sadly, when Sea Pigeon came back to defend his crown in 1981 it was without his usual partner. Jonjo’s leg had been shattered in 36 places in a fall at Bangor and his efforts to get back in time to ride Sea Pigeon exacerbated the injury, requiring a further operation. This time it was John Francome who provided a silk-smooth ride, delivering Sea Pigeon halfway up the run-in to pip Pollardstown and Daring Run. ‘Pure class,’ said Francome, who also declared that he had never ridden a jumper with such acceleration.
Sea Pigeon and Night Nurse, who won 70 races between them, are buried side by side at the Easterby yard of Habton Grange with a plaque that reads ‘Legends in their Lifetime’. As they were.
The same can be said of two trainers with an incredible record at Cheltenham: Nicky Henderson and the now retired Martin Pipe. Writing my Cheltenham book gave me the chance to enjoy extended talks with both of them about some of their Festival winners.