Having carefully consulted the dress code, I was all ready for my visit to the Headquarters of racing on the Rowley Mile at Newmarket. 'As a gentleman' I chose to wear formal smart trousers and smart formal shoes, and avoided the 'rarely seen' jeans and trainers. The rebel in me was put off by the weather, so did not breach the ban on swimwear or bare chests. I was forced to leave my 'Brexit You know it Makes Sense' tee-shirt at home for fear of falling foul of the 'common sense rules' on clothes with slogans.
The vastness of Newmarket is the first thing that strikes you on arrival. Despite all the recent rain, the gallops which make up the heath were still springy under feet. It is easy to understand why so many trainers are based here.
In recent years the prestige of the season opener, the Craven meeting, has dropped somewhat. The centrepiece are the trials for the first classics of the season, the 1000 and 2000 Guineas, but trainers have increasingly bypassed these races and chosen to go straight for the big races.
The Jockey Club have tried to redress this by introducing more valuable sales races and handicaps, allowing gallops before racing which are visible to the public and are even commentated on, and returning the meeting to its original 3 day format. It's a shame that Channel 4 have still not reinstated their coverage, but this maybe an opportunity for ITV to prove their commitment to the sport next year.
Looking round the paddock before the first race most of the big owners were there - including Sheikh Hamdan and his large entourage of young princes, and the new kid on the block Sheik Fahad Al Thani from Qatar. Security was solid, if discreet, with muscular ex-Army types talking into their sleeves and scanning the horizon for threats secret-service style. Rumours that they are armed with more than just radio technology are obviously completely unfounded.
Sadly one well known owner, Sir Alex Ferguson, was missing, perhaps still recovering from his losing bet on the Masters.
The Craven Stakes, after which the meeting is known, took place in horrendous conditions. Just before the off there was the most enormous clap of thunder, coinciding with lightning striking the big screen and putting it, and the commentary service, out of action.
It was dark, hailing and raining. The start was missed by most of the crowd.
A man with binoculars shouted "I think they're off. No they're not. Oh yes here they come. Frankie's in front. It's 4. Baker."
Checking my drenched racecard I was able to establish that the Craven had been won by the tallest jockey in the world, George Baker. How he can ride at 9 stone when he is 6 feet tall is beyond me, and it is good to see him being rewarded for his daily super human self-denial. The replay shown between races an hour later with the restoration of power revealed that Baker's mount, Stormy Antarctic, beat the favourite, Foundation, rather easily. Foundation is the horse partly owned by Sir Alex, so his absence may have enabled trainer, John Gosden, and jockey, Frankie Dettori, to escape the traditional hair dryer treatment after an unexpected defeat.
A combination of the weather, the track conditions and the comparatively unfashionable nature of his trainer, Ed Walker, may have led bookmakers to underestimate the merits of the well named Stormy Antarctic's victory. If the going is still soft for the 2000 Guineas in 16 days time, then the 20/1 available represents a good value each way bet.
Ryan Moore has clearly replaced Lester Piggott as the punters' friend but we had to wait till the last for his first win of the day. The by now 'well refreshed' crowd in the Adnams Cask Bar were clearly on, but were also forced to queue in teeming rain to collect their money from some rather unhappy (haha), and very wet (snigger), bookies.
One happy man went out with half a pint of strong beer and returned even happier five minutes later waving his winnings and still holding what was by now a pint of rather less strong beer.
Spring has sprung. Happy days.
Newmarket - marks (out of 10)
Welcome/friendliness 8
Atmosphere 8
Betting ring (size, competitiveness) 9
Racecard (cost, quality) 7
Queues for the bar 9
Standard of racing 9
Viewing 7
Total (out of 70) 57
Punting success - lost (but get it back on Stormy Antarctic in The Guineas!)
Is there a name for it? That maudling feeling I experience - whether I've won or lost - on the Sunday morning after the Grand National. The jumps season is effectively over. It's at least 6 months before those heroes, and following this year's Champion Hurdle, heroines are seen again.
Still this year's race provided a heart warming story to cheer us through the summer months. Most importantly all the horses and jockeys were safe and sound. The rain drenched ground probably helped in this respect, although it also did for my tip The Druids Nephew. He could not 'jump out of it' (basically he got stuck in the mud) and ended up being pulled up.
The winning horse, Rule The World, was cheered home by quite a few women, because apparently his name is the title of a Take That song. Remarkably it was the horse's first ever win in a steeplechase, ridden by a 19 year old jockey having his first ride in the National. Who needs to spend hours studying the form and watching the videos when being a woman of a certain age and having a crush on Robbie Williams provides the key to profits?
Whilst I could not have selected Rule the World even with unlimited devoted expert research, I was almost able to join in the cheers because the trainer is Mouse Morris. Son of Lord Killanin, the Irishman nobleman and President of the International Olympic Committee, Mouse has always been an entertaining character. Now in his mid-sixties he still sports an impressive (albeit now grey) mullet, and chainsmokes the gaspers. His training base is in Fethard, a small town in County Tipperary where I once spent a memorable evening with a bunch of local racing fans in the Chinese pub in the centre of the town.
Mouse had a shattering experience last year, when his son Tiffer was killed by carbon monoxide poisoning whilst travelling in Argentina. Most observers also thought Mouse's training career was in decline so the win must have been a real tonic.
I had watched the National at Lingfield, where they managed to put on a good show* for the largish crowd. They started with shire horse racing. All a bit gimmicky for me as they 'sprint' for 4 furlongs. One jockey, Luke Morris, even managed to fall off which in hindsight is perhaps not all that surprising as he looked very small on these massively impressive steeds.
As usual the handicaps on the Lingfield card were tricky. It is easy to see why the bookmakers sponsor them; indeed calling the 13 runner second race the Bookies' Benefit Stakes would have been an apt title.
The maidens though offer opportunities. Unraced horses from top yards tend to start at short prices. There was money all morning for Musdam in the 4.50. Trained by Sir Michael Stoute, and ridden by Ryan Moore, it was always likely to be over bet. I fancied John Gosden's Dommersen, which had the advantage of the experience of a previous run. I could not believe the 5/1 price it opened at on course and steamed in (err I mean backed it accordingly). Remarkably - for me anyway - there was then a massive gamble on Dommersen which saw its price shrink into 5/4. I like to think it was sparked by my early wager but sadly I suspect not.
Ridden by Frankie Dettori - I knew it was him because he had his name on his socks - Dommersen held on to win, and there was no doubt that the advantage of a previous run made the critical difference. Musdam will win, but needs more time and experience.
Lingfield offers the opportunity to see these great jockeys up close, walking through the spectators on the way to and from the paddock and winners enclosure. Frankie is the most popular, and seemed very happy to stop and chat, sign and be 'selfied' (not by me obviously). The taciturn Ryan Moore gets less attention, but it is still a thrill for me to watch the man who is now widely regarded as the best jockey in the world at one of our local tracks. And even though the morning gamble on Musdam went west, he did the business by winning two of the 'impossible' handicaps.
Brighton's second best ever sportsman, Steve Ovett, was given the freedom of the city. I hope Ryan, undoubtedly Brighton's greatest ever sportsman, is given a similar honour one day.
And the post National blues were lifting by Sunday afternoon -after all it's the Craven meeting on Wednesday.
*I did though wonder why they put the stalls in front of the big screen, partially obscuring the National for much of the crowd - (see pic below)
Whilst I accept that Frankie Dettori is one of the few racing figures who appeals to the wider public, I confess I have always found his jack-in-the-box antics and flying dismount stuff a bit wearing.
Still each to his own and even an old cynic such as me was moved by his performance in the Arc yesterday. I thought Frankie cocked up the only time Golden Horn got beaten, with his pacemaker actually aiding Arabian Queen, the filly that ended the Derby winner's unbeaten run.
Yesterday Frankie made up for it in spades. Drawn in the car park he conducted a brilliant manoeuvre to ensure Golden Horn was in the perfect position after 3 furlongs, ironically this time benefitting from Treve's pacemaker.
With his broad appeal beyond racing and his comeback from the dark days of a ban for taking cocaine, there is certainly an entertaining back story to Frankie's successes this year.
I have just checked the betting for BBC Sports Personality of the Year (SPOTY), and Jennifer Ennis-Hill (10/11 favourite), Chris Froome, Lewis Hamilton and Andy Murray (joint 8/1 second favourites) head the market. All worthy candidates with significant achievements.
The problem with SPOTY is that the winner often seems to miss the 'personality' bit of the award - Nigel Mansell, Steve Davis anyone?
Frankie fits the personality bill and you can still back him at 100/1 this morning. Might be worth a small each way punt.
One thing I can certainly guarantee is that the winner will not be a rugby player.
The vastness of Newmarket is the first thing that strikes you on arrival. Despite all the recent rain, the gallops which make up the heath were still springy under feet. It is easy to understand why so many trainers are based here.
