Too Much Hyperbole

If you believe most of which you read in the press, there is only one horse running at Royal Ascot this year, the Australian superstar sprinter Black Caviar.

Whilst the appearance of an equine superstar, prepared to travel half way round the world, is undoubtedly welcome, the amount of column inches and broadcaster minutes assigned to the story is very much in the realms of hyperbole.

Interestingly, jockey Ryan Moore has said as much in his Betfair column today, as a consequence he is coming from of stick in the social media and racing forums.  Now, this is something you’re not hear me say every day but I do agree with Ryan Moore on this occasion and I think the criticism is undeserved, as he said “let the horse do the talking.”

The amount of coverage given to Black Caviar is ridiculous and in danger of becoming counterproductive, as it could well put people off.

Yes coverage of the great mare running at Royal Ascot is good for the sport, however this coverage needs to be measured and is currently in danger of running out of control.

I am very much looking forward to see her run in the Diamond Jubilee Stakes on Saturday but it needs to be remembered there are 29 other top class races over the week and they are increasingly becoming in danger of being ignored.

Indeed it seems to have been forgotten that the racecourse rated officially number one in the world, Frankel, is running in the opening contest of the meeting.  It could well be argued the opening Queen Anne stakes is the racing equivalent of a premature ejaculation, as with Frankel running the opening race of the meeting, there  is a danger of the meeting climaxing too soon.  I suppose the consolation of Black Caviar running on the Saturday is it gives us something very special to look forward to later in the meeting.

As I said, I think it is marvellous we attract these overseas runners but please, fellow hacks, try and keep some sense of perspective. 

Of course Ascot are delighted with all the publicity and it is no surprise that Saturday is already sold out,  let us all hope the capacity crowd will not be disappointed - I don’t think they will. For what it’s worth the only thing I can see beating Black Caviar is the great British weather and the ground being too soft.

Even though I have a preference for National Hunt racing, Royal Ascot is one of my favourite meetings of the year, it is certainly the one flat racing festival which has wall to wall, quality racing.

The meeting which encompasses Group One contests, with the best horses from around the world, alongside fiendishly impossible handicaps, is such there is something for everyone.

Granted many in the crowds are there simply to be seen, there are still many who simply come to watch top class horse racing.

From a working perspective is probably the hardest week of the year as it means seven am starts and if I am home for nine in the evening I’m happy.

Being at the plankton level of the racing journalism food chain I don’t get access to or anywhere near the parade ring and I have to take my chances with the huge crowds, which does make paddock inspection somewhat difficult - but I like a challenge.

I am fortunate that I am able to watch the racing from the balcony outside the main press room, which does afford the fantastic view of the action.

There is always a large contingent of overseas press at the Royal Meeting and I have a very strong suspicion this year, especially on the Saturday, there will be a large number of antipodean accents to be heard in the media centre - I wonder why?

There will be full coverage of the meeting for all five days on the web-site ORS Racing as well as Twitter feeds (time permitting) at @orsracing. 

Here’s to a great weeks racing and may the best horses win.

More Diversity Required

Whilst enjoying a sunny evenings racing at Towcester on Monday I happened to notice a group of Afro-Caribbean lads watching the horses going round the parade ring.

Since then it has been bugging me as to why I happened to have noticed them in particular. After all they were acting no differently than any other group of young lads you see at racecourses every day, indeed they were a lot quieter than many groups of young lads I’ve seen at courses.

Then yesterday evening I had that Eureka moment. It suddenly came to me why these young lads stuck in my mind.

The simple and arguably painful truth is racing crowds are predominantly white and it is actually very unusual to see a group of non-whites at a racecourse.

It is of course a sensitive subject and I am trying, possibly unsuccessfully, to find the correct phraseology to use without causing offence to someone or another. Yet in a supposedly multicultural society racing crowds are almost totally white.

Government statistics tell us that Leicester has an “immigrant population” of around 40% yet on my frequent visits to Leicester races that demographic is certainly not reflected in those attending the racing.

I suppose one factor is in Muslim communities gambling is not allowed and racings inexorable association with gambling may well play a part in explaining non-attendance from those particular communities. Then again Dubai is a Muslim state and the locals still turn out for the racing, even though there is no betting.

London is a multicultural melting pot but visit any of the London courses and you would not see that reflected in the attendees.

I wonder if Racing For Change have carried out any investigations into the demographics of the racing audience?

Why aren’t racing attendees more reflective of society in general?

It has to be said the racing media fares little better, it is very much dominated by white males and it is a very robust macho environment where the few ladies of the press need to be able to give as good as they get – and they invariably do. However this is another area where white skins predominate, the only notable exception being Ken Pitterson, who incidentally happens to be one of the best paddock judges in the business.

The make-up of crowds at courses has changed over the years. I’ve been going racing for over thirty years and when I first used to go it was unusual to see women at the races. Nowadays that has changed completely, indeed I have been to a few meetings where there have been more women than men in the crowds.

A great deal of this is down to the racecourses who have gone out of their way to attract more female racegoers and all credit to them – although with the proliferation of Ladies Days, many courses have gone from one such meeting a year to several, one wonders if they have gone too far the other way.

It seems very wrong that a group of Afro-Caribbean lads at a racecourse should stand out because they are the exception.

There another great untapped potential audience out there and Racing PLC needs to find a way of engaging with them.

Unsung Heroes

I was going to write exclusively about the Grand National in this week’s blog but, frankly, the subject has been done to death and I have, many times over the last year, stated my views on the race.

Nothing that happened this last weekend has made me change my views, indeed it has merely served to strengthen my opinion.

It gives me no pleasure to say this but this year’s renewal, apart from the near dead heat, panned out more or less as I expected. I had even predicted Synchronised’s fate to one or two friend before the contest.

The only other comment I would make is “Racing PLC” really does need to sort out it’s PR, circling the wagons, making crass statements about people not having to watch the race if they don’t like it and simply concentrating on portraying Animal Aid and their ilk as extremists is all counterproductive.

Yes, Animal Aid are idiotic extremists and should be exposed as such, but racing seems to use that approach as its main defence and it is not good enough. It should also be acknowledged that Animal Aid has a far superior PR setup than racing.

Anyway on to the main theme of this week’s epistle and I want to pay tribute to some of racings unsung heroes, the paramedics.

We all know the risks to horses and riders in our sport, especially in National Hunt racing. I think I read somewhere that a jump jockey can expect to fall every one in ten rides.

Most of the time they are quickly on their feet and bouncing back, occasionally the falls are more serious.

In recent weeks we have seen horrific falls for Philipa Tutty, Noel Fehily and Nathan Cook and it is the paramedics who look after and assess them.

When I was younger all ambulance crews did was “scoop and deliver”, now they are highly trained and, frankly, in emergency situations they are better equipped to deal with the situation that most doctors.

Theirs is a role which often goes unnoticed, yet when Nathan Cook had his terrible fall at Ffos Las, if you didn’t see it, he was unseated whilst leading only to have the eventual winner trample on his head as he was on the ground.

The paramedics were there almost immediately and were still treating him on the ground almost half an hour later, when an air ambulance arrived. The air ambulance crew then also treated and assessed him for some considerable time before eventually flying him to hospital.

There is no doubt their quick intervention meant he received prompt treatment but they also ensured he was quickly immobilised preventing any further injury.

Luckily Cook only suffered concussion and he was released from hospital later that day and he expects to be back at work later this week.

There are plenty of television programs like Helicopter Heroes and Emergency Bikers which show paramedics at work but, by their very nature, they only show part of the story.

Yesterday evening I had the fortune or, maybe – depending on how you look at it, the misfortune of experiencing their work first hand and I have nothing but praise for them.

It was 18:45, dinner was in the oven and I was about to serve it up, and I was sitting at my computer when I got this terrible pain in my chest, which then spread up my neck.

Thinking nothing of it I tried to “walk it off” – even getting dinner out of the oven ready to serve.

As I sat down to eat dinner the pain was not easing and I realised it was possibly a case of “Houston, we have a problem.”

Impressively, within four minutes there was a paramedic car parked on the drive.

The paramedic walked into the front room carrying more kit than a Nepalese Sherpa on an Everest climb and within a few minutes there was enough equipment set up to rival an intensive care unit.

All the time he was reassuring, whilst at the same time he was trying to get me to “relax” which was much easier said than done coming from my position.

Before I knew it he was attacking my chest with a razor and I was soon attached to a heart monitor which, thankfully, showed I wasn’t imminently about to shuffle of this mortal coil, which was actually quite a relief.

Despite the “good” heart trace he still insisted I chew the most foul tasting aspirin ever made.     

More tests followed and he was soon joined by two more paramedics, all of whom were thorough but, all the time reassuring.

By now the pain had gone and I actually felt a bit of a time waster but they still wanted me to go to hospital to be checked out.

Even when I was on board the ambulance it wasn’t just a case of taking me to hospital. They probably spent another 20 minutes doing more tests and traces and even sprayed some stuff under my tongue which was, at least, much better tasting than the aspirin.

By this time I was relaxed and even cracking jokes with the duo, in between apologising for having them called out and them telling me off for apologising.

That I was relaxed was wholly down to the paramedics and their manner and approach, they certainly showed to me they are the ones to have around when you need help.

Something, I’m sure, many of our jockeys (and of course stable staff who take falls on the gallops) well appreciate.

(By dint of the fact I am writing this some 21 hours later it’s obvious I’m still here. After a thorough “going over” at the hospital they believe the pain was the result of the infection I’ve had for the past six weeks. I was back home, finally eating some dinner, just before two this morning)   

Looking Forward To Chepstow

For the first time since I have legally been allowed to bet (and let me tell you that is more years than I care to remember) I shall not be having a bet on the Grand National this year, indeed I would be pushed to name more than half a dozen of this year’s runners without looking them up.

In the immediate aftermath of last year’s National my reservations about the race began to come into sharper focus.

I had thought, even hoped, with time my concerns would mellow but they haven’t.

Whilst last year’s race added a few nails to the coffin the final straw was the BHA review into the race and the prosed solutions.

The review was a typical fudge by committee even more that I believe the changes could even make the situation worse.

In their infinite wisdom the committee decided to make a couple of the fences easier. That, in my mind, is wrong. Making them “easier” will mean they will be treated with less respect, they will be approached faster and this will result in more falls, especially coupled with refusal to reduce the safety limit in the contest.

The one mitigating factor in this renewal is the long awaited rain will result in softer ground and, hopefully, the filed approaching the fences at a safer pace.

However too much rain and we have the danger of another Red Marauder contest, which in its own way was unedifying.

I really hope I am proved wrong and this turns out to be a National which makes the news for all the right reasons.

It is difficult to “walk away” from the National, after all it forms my earliest racing memory, watching Nicholas Silver win the 1961 contest, watching it on a fuzzy black and white television.

That was the second time the BBC had televised the race and it is, perhaps, a symmetry that the last Grand National I watched would turn out to be the second last the BBC will broadcast.

When I told one of my racing friends I had given up on the National he summed it up perfectly when he said:-

“The National is a funny race, I can easily see why people might fall out of love with it. For me it's a bit like a teenage crush. You don't want to admit when it's over and you never quite get over it.”

So I’ll be spending Saturday at Chepstow although my attempts to avoid the National may well be thwarted as there is a massive 1 hour 5 minute gap between races three and four so racegoers can watch the Grand National – I may go into town and do some shopping. 

Be Careful What You Wish For

The chatter in the racing world today has been around the offer of Sheikh Fahad to inject £700,000 to the Sussex Stakes prize money if Frankel and Black Caviar both race.

Frankel on Champions Day 2011

Needless to say the usual suspects have been salivating at the prospect and the hyperbole has already begun – without either set of connections confirming the race as a target.

I’m minded of the old adage “be careful what you wish for” for the offer could be more trouble than it is worth.

First of all there is the £1,000,000 purse should both horses turn up. Meanwhile racing has a funding crisis prize money is in a downward spiral and a new funding mechanism needs to be sorted out.

Yet, against this backdrop, one million pounds of prize money is offered if two horses turn up for one particular race.

I accept the extra money is coming from, for want of a better word, a benefactor but it still does not look right and it, potentially, sends out the wrong message.

If I heard an owner pointing out how poor prize money was I would ask him to reconcile his complaint against the money on offer for this one race.

To me it is akin to a family struggling to make ends meet, with maxed out credit cards, receiving a substantial sum of money from a generous uncle and blowing it on a luxury holiday.      

Now I admit I am a fully paid up capitalist and to me socialism is an anathema. I fully accept an individual is entitled to spend their money how they see fit but in the current economic climate even I wince at such a huge amount of money being spent just so two horses can race, even more so when you consider the other concerns I have.

Let us assume the money is not an issue there are plenty of other concerns.

Now Goodwood is a lovely racecourse, there is no better place to spend a sunny summers afternoon enjoying  flat meeting. However Goodwood is one of those courses that could be considered idiosyncratic with it being set on the chalky South Downs.

Now I’m no expert on Australian racing and I am quite happy to be corrected but I strongly suspect there are no courses in Oz configured in the same was as Goodwood. I strongly suspect Black Caviar has never run on an undulating track.

If Black Caviar were my horse why would I want to run her at Goodwood? For such an important race I would not want her running at a course where she will be at a disadvantage compared to her rival.

If there is to be a UK meeting then it should be at a flatter track like Ascot or York, this would be fairer on both contenders.

Then there is the danger the race will not live up to what will be almost unbearable hyperbole in the build up to the race and we all know the hype can backfire.

Remember the Frankel vs Canford Cliffs hype at last years Glorious Goodwood?  
What a damp squib that turned out to be.

All the “showdown” would prove is who was the better horse on the day, nothing more than that.

 You can go 1.01 that the connections of the losing horse will have their excuses ready the moment their charge crosses the line.

Is it also fair that one of the contenders has to travel half way round the world to compete?

If the showdown has to take place would it not be fairer held at a neutral venue where both horses have to travel and to that end staging the race in South Africa would probably be best.

- - - - -

Richard Hughes has also been a talking point at the moment, following his failed attempt to avoid having his Indian ban reciprocated.

Whether the penalty handed out to Hughes in India is deemed to be to severe is, frankly, irrelevant.

He chose to ride in India, he accepted he would have to ride under their rules and regulations, he then chose to show scant regard for their rules (on more than one occasion). He was not forced to ride in India.

Whether the reciprocity arrangement is formal or informal, there is one and the ban should apply here.

For the BHA to refuse the request from the Indian authorities, it would have looked arrogant and patronising to a "smaller" authority.

Hughes legal team can attempt all the mealy mouthed worming they want but at the end of the day Hughes committed the offence so he pays the price - ergo I have no sympathy for him at all.

If Hughes did not want to be in this position the answer was in his hands in the first place.

Whilst Hughes may be a good rider he does seem to have an ego issue - two bust-ups in India and his petulant (and actually meaningless and empty gestured) dummy spitting when he received a ban under the whip rules here shows a particularly nasty character trait.

It Was Not The Same

Those of us who watch racing from the privileged position of the press room sometimes forget how fortunate we are.

Notwithstanding the thrill of being present at the race meeting there is also the additional access which comes with having the coveted press badge.

Access to the key players, a chance to get up close to the magnificent horses.

The chance to see the special bond that exists between the handlers and their horses.

It is something to so easily take for granted and something I appreciated all the more last week.

For me Cheltenham is the highlight of the racing year, it is a meeting I love attending. Yes it can be crowded, especially on the Friday but the atmosphere is something really special, something intangible.

The racing is invariably of a high standard, there is no such thing as a non-trier at The Festival and the feeling, the “I was there” feeling when something special happens is something money cannot buy.

I was there when Big Bucks won his third World Hurdle, I was there when Master Minded destroyed the field, I was there when Denman won his Gold Cup and when Kauto Star regained his title – so many memories.

This year was different – due to illness I couldn’t make it to Gloucestershire and I had to settle for watching the Festival from the “comfort” of my armchair.

Let me tell you it was not the same.

It was an enlightening experience, more so following the confirmation today that Channel Four will have exclusive terrestrial television rights to the festival from 2013.

Let’s deal with the irritations first and they have to be focused on the advertisements. I appreciate Channel Four is a commercial broadcaster and paradoxically it is the deregulation of bookmakers advertising which has provided the income to allow Channel Four to bid for the exclusive terrestrial rights.

However the advertisements are a major distraction – in particular the Paddy Power adverts which seemed to top and tail almost every commercial break.

These are meant to be humorous advertisements, that in itself is debatable, but when exactly the same advertisement is shown at the beginning and end of every commercial break it quickly becomes a major irritation.

The sort of irritation which will put off the casual, once a year, viewer when Channel Four picks up the crown jewels.

Then we had the advertisements where the Channel Four pictures continued to be shown as a picture in picture – does this imply an endorsement by Channel Four?

The answer is probably not but it could easily be perceived to be that way.

Finally there was the bookmaker advertisement, shown throughout the week, whereby one of the Channel Four team were endorsing a bookmaker whilst he was appearing in the program during which the advertisement was screened.

Surely that cannot be right?

Notwithstanding the advertising, a necessary evil, the program itself was just about OK.

Sure enough individual presenters can evoke different reactions in different people and it is wrong to judge a program on personal preferences for individual presenters.

What I did find particularly impressive was some of the background features.

The Kauto Star story with Simon Holt chatting to Paul Nicholls, shown over all four days, was excellent.

I really enjoyed the interview with Trevor Hemmings but the icing on the cake was the chat with racings “odd couple” Hen Knight and Terry Biddlecombe.

Presented a tribute to Best Mate the interview also showed something of the relationship between the most unlikely couple, not only in racing but anywhere.

It was a lovely insert into the program without being overly sentimental.

Turning to the racing coverage itself there was coverage of the horses in the parade ring but there could have been more. Although it should be noted in a couple of races they did not have time to get through all the runners.

The paddock commentary wasn’t exactly informative,  more a rehash of form figures. I would prefer the paddock analysis to come from seasoned paddock observers.

Coverage of the races was my biggest complaint though.

There were too many crowd shots as the runners circled at the start. Indeed, the start of a couple of races was missed as the cameras were showing irrelevant scene setters.

Channel Four relied on Simon Holt for their commentary but I think it is too much to ask one commentator to call all the races at a meeting this size.

Indeed I’m sure even Simon himself, usually the most reliable of callers, will admit the Cross Country was not his finest ever call.

It would be better if Simon was added to the on-course commentary team and Channel Four then took the course feed.

If they are to take the course commentary they should also take the Racetech course pictures as well. Arty shots are all well and good but there was too much focus on the “big names” rather than showing the race develop.

By all means have the arty shots, the close ups, but save them for the replays, not the race itself.

 I don’t want a close up of Big Bucks – I want to see the race developing.

When the race is over we then have to endure the immediate post race interview.

What purpose does it serve?

If I was the owner I would not want my rider debriefing the media before he had debriefed me.

What do the broadcasters expect from these interviews?

Of the 20 races shown by Channel Four the only immediate post race interview with a rider I found insightful was the one with AP McCoy after winning the Gold Cup. That’s a pretty poor percentage.

What the coverage did not do, indeed in fairness it cannot do, is give a real feeling of what the atmosphere is like at Cheltenham.

Earlier on I was critical of Simon’s call of the Cross Country race, to redress the balance his call of the Gold Cup was sublime and it was the nearest Channel Four came all week to properly convey that special Cheltenham atmosphere.

Moving on Channel Four should seize the  chance to revamp its coverage of the sport.

For what it’s worth my “dream team” of presenters would be as follows.

Presenters:

Clare Balding and Nick Luck, the two best in the business by a country mile. Appreciating they cannot cover every week I would have a “reserve” team of Richard Hoiles, Stewart Machin, Lydia Hislop and Alastair Down

Form Experts:

Personally I think form experts are a waste of time, if people want form then they can by a Racing Post and read the Spotlights (other form sources are available)

Paddock Commentators:

Much more coverage of runners in the paddock is required and, as importantly, analysis of how the runners look whilst parading. For me David Cleary and Ken Pitterson are the two best paddock observers in the business.

Betting Ring:

There is no need for a betting reporter, yet alone two. All that is required a sidebar or screen scroll which can graphically display betting and betting moves.

Commentators:

Just use the on-course commentary, having separate commentators just for TV is an unnecessary expense.

Christmas Will Not Be The Same This Year

Surprisingly, even though it is half a century ago, I can still remember my childhood days when the year revolved around Christmas – the long build-up, the excitement, the anticipation.

The sleepless night, especially Christmas Eve, then Christmas morning and what you had waited so long for, the pile of new presents awaiting you on Christmas morning.

Innocent excitement, happy memories.

But of course nothing lasts forever and reality replaces the fantasy.

Priorities and expectations change – after all it would be deeply concerning if, as a middle aged man, ones year revolved around the arrival of a jolly fat man, with an overly strong attachment for young children, bearing sacks of gifts.

Of course, being creatures of habit, us humans like to have some cycle to our life. Some people I know are eagerly awaiting next weekend and the start of the new F1 season.

I once knew somebody whose whole year was focused on getting hold of and drinking a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau on the vary day it is released.

For those of us whose obsession tends to focus on horse racing it tends to be particular races, the Grand National or The Derby for example.

For me it’s the festivals.

My summer treat is Royal Ascot, top quality flat racing and, to be controversial, I adore the sense of occasion, the formality and the dressing up and, yes, I admit I like looking at attractive fillies as well (although looking at the less attractive fillies who think they are attractive can be equally amusing).

I adore Longchamp in October, two days of top class racing, six group one races on the Sunday, culminating in the Arc. Add in French chic and a setting in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and we are talking near racing heaven – but only near.

However, having a preference for National Hunt racing, there is only one Festival that really counts and that’s the one at Prestbury Park, Cheltenham in the middle of March every year.

For me it is Christmas, Diwali, Eid and Hanukkah all rolled into one.

Four glorious days racing. 27 races, all of which have their own story.

It’s not just the racing though. It is the atmosphere, a unique atmosphere. Yes the drink, especially the Guinness, flows but there doesn’t seem to be the same edge as at other meetings. Most are there to see the racing, the racing is central to the occasion, not an incidental.

The majority of those at the course are actually there because they want to see the racing, as opposed to some of the summer “festivals” where racegoers wouldn’t recognise a horse if it turned round and looked them in the eyes.

For many it is the culmination of the NH season, indeed it could be argued it should be the end of the NH season but that’s another discussion.

I think you get the message now, I love Cheltenham, I love the build-up, the intrigue as to what will run, what will be fit, what will not.

I love the final days leading up to it as the final running plans begin to emerge. As we have the, seemingly now mandatory, scare or controversy.

Like the child me in the build-up to Christmas I find myself getting increasingly excited as the festival approaches. I can’t remember when I last had a good sleep on Cheltenham Eve.

I love arriving at the course at around 9:00 on the Tuesday morning, just as the finishing touches are being applied. It is a privilege to be allowed inside the course before the public but to walk around in almost surreal isolation is something special, especially when you know what is going to ensue a few hours later.

It is just special.

Sadly, for me, Cheltenham 2012 is only going to be a dream.

I remember one Christmas as a child when I was not well, one of the usual childhood illnesses, but I ended up being confined to bed over Christmas – it was still Christmas but it wasn’t the same.

Last weekend I went racing at Huntingdon and the weather was horrible, rain, sleet, snow and wind – an absolutely foul afternoon.

That evening I felt ill but just put it down to an afternoon in the cold.

One sleepless night later I felt like death warmed up, I had the ‘flu, yet in a perverse way I was pleased. I thought “at least having it now I will shake it off in time for Cheltenham.”

That was the theory as the week progressed I wasn’t getting better as quickly as I hoped. They say it takes longer to recover as you get older and that is true, in so many ways!!

By the end of the week I was beginning to have doubts about getting, at least, to the opening days of the Festival.

I thought back to that Christmas when I wasn’t well where despite feeling ill I still tried to convince my Mother I was fine and could get up for the big day.

Here I was fifty-odd years later convincing myself I will be fit for Cheltenham.

Indeed going to bed Friday night I was actually beginning to feel quite good in myself, there was hope.

Then Saturday morning it all went wrong again, I’ll spare you the gory detail but it had gone to my chest and I ended up having to get the medics to help.

It was then the inevitable began to dawn on me – I could end up missing all of Cheltenham.

Like that child all those years ago I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t be a problem, I could cope.

Sadly with age does come some wisdom as I also remember what working the Festival is really like.

The days are very long, having to battle through the crowds is physically demanding and it actually is very hard work. Even when fully fit I finish each day exhausted and the whole week absolutely shattered – if I’m like that when going into the week fit, is it really sensible to even attempt it when nowhere near fit as I am now?

My heart says "keep on trying" even if it is just for one day, my head says "don't be so stupid".

The head is going to win - it's time to accept reality, accept I'm not as young and as fit as I used to be, accept if I do try and go to Cheltenham I will only make things worse.

I am going to have to settle with watching Cheltenham 2012 on television. Yes I will see the racing but it will be nowhere near the same.

It is like a child waiting for Christmas Day only to wake up to find, at the end of the bed, not a huge pile of presents but a photograph of a pile of presents – it’s not the same.

It’s enough to make you want to cry.