Farewell to Frankel

A final emotional farewell to an extraordinary racehorse

It's not like we've never been here before. Equine heroes come and go, mostly go. But this is still proving a hard goodbye to say.

We've been horseracing fans for a lifetime, and on the track for a decade and a bit. The taste of elation and heartbreak is known well to us. The delight of the 'find', a new equine hero, the thrill of following them through the ups and downs, then facing that inevitable day when they retire. Or worse,  are taken from you altogether.  We teter on the verge of becoming jaded after so many goodbyes, planned and unplanned. It was a pleasant surprise to see that the old foe Destiny had at least one more horse tucked up her sleeve for us whose unrivalled ability, beauty and courage would touch us so deeply.

This year has been beset with events of a personal nature which we have had to attend to. As much as we love it, horseracing is a luxury that sometimes must take a back seat. We have seen far far less of our 4 legged friends this season than we would have liked. But we knew we could not miss Frankel at Royal Ascot, nor could we allow his farewell to happen and not be there to savour one last look. It was the right decision. 

I don't know if he is the greatest racehorse of all time. My guess is that we cannot know this. Father would say that it was Secretariat or Northern Dancer. His Father would say Man O War. The Irish still say Arkle, but then surely we really cannot compare Jumping stars to Flat stars. Nor should we.  I feel safe in saying that although I may have loved other racehorses better, I'm pretty sure that I have not personally seen a flat racehorse who was the equal of  Frankel. And I'm also sure that we will never know exactly how good he really was because nothing could compare with him close enough to really challenge him. There may well be those who came before who could have had a jolly good time trying to beat him. It matters not one dot to me though. It's impossible to even try to measure or define what Frankel has given to racing.

Frankel really personifies 'The Sport of Kings'. Prince Khalid Abdullah registered the name to secure it and waited for a horse to be foaled who he could bestow the name Frankel on, and had the vision to know it was this one and to send him to Warren Place. It became clear that Sir Henry Cecil had at last met his equine equal. Of all the champions which he had overseen the careers of, this colt was by far the best.

I have poured over the books on the champions and watched crackly videos of Ribot, Mill Reef, Nijinsky, Dancing Brave and The Brigadier. I've left flowers on the grave of Nashwan. And I have loved them all. But only from afar, through the mists of time, dusty pages and blurry videos. I wanted one of my own, a really really great one. I got them, more than one, beyond the wildest dreams.

How lucky are we? I know that in years to come those who were not there will wish that they had been and envy us. A little Henry V? Sure, well why the Hell not?

Words cannot capture what sublime joy it has been to watch him. And we can always be grateful that we did. We've had our really really great one, and our own kind of St Crispin's Day.

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

William Shakespeare ~

A sea of cameras directed at Frankel. A rare sight for owners in the parade ring tostep out to take photos of
someone else's horse - but Frankel was not just any horse.

Members of the crowd showed support by wearing his colours,
even in their hair!