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I’m someone else who was drawn into racing by watching the Grand National on TV as a child, though in my case it was the mid 1980s. There was something so exciting and magical about it. My expectations may have been unrealistic as I remember my aunt backing Hallo Dandy when he won, and my young self thought perhaps she would be able to live in a palace after that! Hearing names such as Corbiere, Greasepaint, Mr Snugfit, Classified and West Tip never fails to send a nostalgic shiver down my spine.
The two horses who helped take my interest to the next level were Monanore and Little Polveir. They were both regulars in the Grand National in the late 80s, and they were my favourites – I liked their names! I stayed loyal to them, and Monanore came a brave 3rd in the 1988 race. Little Polveir was going so well that year too when he unseated at the 26th while leading. Of course, the following year he redeemed himself and won, and this was the moment I became hooked. I then started watching other Jumps racing on TV, and became interested in the Flat too. The media attention that Desert Orchid was attracting back then almost certainly helped things along as well.
My granddad was a bookie for a while, but he died before my interest began. I have no other family connections to racing, but I like to think I inherited the racing gene from him.
I too was drawn to Little Polveir because of the name.
The more I know the less I understand.
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It's the "Millwall FC" of Point broadcasts: "No One Likes Us - We Don't Care"Ah yes, West Tip!
Back in the days we had a baker come to the door.
Back in my teens I told this baker West Tip was going to win the Grand National that weekend.
Got the usual reply “Grand National is a lottery”.
So I bored him to death why West Tip was going to win. How he was going so well the previous year before falling at second becher’s, handicap mark, brilliant young jockey etc.
Got a rollicking from my mum for keeping this poor man on the doorstep for such a long time.
Anyway…
We ended up having free bread and cake for a week!Value Is EverythingNice story about Hallo Dandy, Marlingford.
Personally didn’t back him, but I did paint him in watercolour with Neil Doughty up.
Copied from a racing calendar.
Pretty good, although I do say so myself.
Still hangs on my Lounge wall today.Value Is EverythingWhen I was young (around 11 years old) I used to read the papers that came through the door. They were free back then. I used to try and solve some of the clues in the crossword, have a go at the word searches. The Rubiks Cube was becoming popular. World Of Sport used to be on and I watched it all the time. Horse racing was part of it, I think it was called the ITV 7.
I didn’t understand what most of it meant at first but I liked watching the races. I used to pick the horse I liked the look of and would see if it won. My big early memory was the 1979 Grand National. I liked the look of Rubstic with his white face and nose band and white socks so chose him. Watching the race gave me a buzz and it was exciting seeing my pick Rubstic win.
The more I watched it and the more I looked at the racecards, I started to learn the lingo and what the numbers next to the horses meant. Like the crosswords and the word searches and the Rubiks Cube, to me it was like trying to solve a puzzle. It’s been my favourite sport ever since. The gambling part came much later, I think West Tip in his first or second National was my first bet.
The reason I got into racing was because I had very expensive tastes and my pocket money was a measly six pence a week.
I used to cock my ear for the paper boy in the morning who was quite a few years older than me. The Daily Mail was a lovely fresh smell of block print in those days, and it was very much like a drug to me. I would whiff the paper like young lads whiff glue today. The cornflakes back then were loaded with malt – Kelloggs naturally and almost everything had a magical aroma.
I found I had a gift that was far too precious to be wasted 😭
Why they sent me to a prison school was something I couldn’t fathom and was another reason I needed money to escape to Africa. I’d found a bird I just needed the readies.
I wanted us to elope and get unofficially married and live not in Gretna Green but abroad with Africans. My hope was that the Masai tribe would accept us with open arms in Kenya. I knew a lot about cows !Sadly Gamble electronic tag now limits his movement …. That and the Broadmoor facility fence
Like others, certainly interested before the age of ten.
My Dad took us to Huntingdon in the sixties, and to other racetracks if we were near one while on holiday.
We didn’t go in the stands then, but could roam about and explore in the inner wide expanse most racecourses could offer.
Of course, a little bet was put on for us to add more interest to the day, but the day out was more than a raceday, it was a picnic, time for ball games, some great family time together.
The Grand National was the big day each year. In the seventies, my Dad started doing the ITV seven. He asked me and my brother to pick out two horses in each race, and along with his choices formed multiple races choices to a 1p EW stake.
The bet sometimes came to a whopping £2.64 if we chose quite different horses.
He did get all seven up one weekend which came to over £600.I am sure by a number of accounts, it was by being brought to the racecourse fuelled the interest which still exists today.
Made me laugh when I saw the BHA initiative to get more people interested in racing, so they targeted students, who have no money?!Earliest memories of horse racing.
Of course the Grand National.
Think it was a front running horse called Tipperwood who led the Scottish National, but was beaten by Young Ash Leaf around the home turn.
Watching a dog jump in the water at the water jump (may have been Newton Abbott), and came out covered in newts.
Picking an 8/1 winner called Damastown at Newmarket in the late sixties, maybe early seventies!
Watching black and white midweek ITV racing with John Rickman, and remember John Tyrell reading out the results, the ITV patent and sounding like he had one tooth in his mouth.
Pendil, who seemed to be on a lot and not against big fields. But oh the tones of O’Sullivan who didn’t used to say much early on, and did not need to.
Andy Turnell, who seemed to ride short rein like Pigott with his bum stuck up in the air.
Bula, Sea Pigeon, Birds Nest, Lanzarote, Comedy of Errors, Brigadier Gerard, Snow Knight, to name but a few.Odd things in my very early years. Watching amongst other sports on Grandstand both at home and at my grandparents. I knew the name Arkle without knowing the context. A few members of my family not related to each other were talking about racing when they visited though most were disinclined.
Out shopping with parents in a hardware store in town when I was almost five there was a commentary on their radio. My dad said he had the winner. this turned out to be Anglo winning the 1966 National. For the 1967 race I recall there being a lot of TV about Josh Gifford having a great chance but I recall I had been taken out shopping so was not aware of the pile up drama until it featured on the news.
A couple of things in 1968 stand out. For the National, some local friends of my mother said they were ‘doing’ Gregory Peck’s horse. Peck had garnered a local following when shooting some scenes in our South Wales valleys backwater. Unimpressed by this I latched on to Red Alligator, had beginner’s luck and loved the day. (To demonstrate how much it mattered after this, the early departure of Fearless Fred in ’69 made it a real downer of a day and I was calling Biddlecombe the worst names I knew at that age.) The Derby was shown when I was off school. I was 7 and picked No. 7, Connaught ridden by Sandy Barclay. Just outpaced By Sir Ivor, which was my uncle’s name. I have good recall of the day because I remember the coverage cut off to join David Coleman who was previewing the European Cup Final where Man United would be playing Benfica that evening.I suppose the 68 GN was the catalyst but I also remember reading the Sunday Express columns and Ivor Herbert was reporting on L’Escargot as a good prospect a year or two before he won the Gold Cup.
I didn’t attend any meetings till my twenties. Few work colleagues have ever been interested in racing, still fewer friends. It has been with the odd exception a solo escape. Not a great punter I keep stakes small but thankfully no Sybil Fawlty type has been able to close this avenue of pleasure.
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