Farewell to a very special horse - Kauto Star

Kauto and Ruby after that 5th King George

This time of year is always a tug on the heartstrings as flat horses go to the sales and jumping horses get retired when they return to training and things do not look right. It's hard to make that decision, always hard. But never more so when it's a real Champion we are talking about.

Long ago and what seems like a lifetime away we started following a horse named Kauto Star. He was one of the 'talking horses' who arrived at Manor Farm Stables from France. Even though pedigrees in jump horses never mean as much as those of flat horses I always look. In his there was a name that stood out. But for an odd reason. Still, odd reasons often dominate which horses we follow and which we do not. And more often than not it's the odd reasons and weird coincidences which bring the most astonishing adventures our way.

Kauto Star's sire was one Village Star who was most famous in our memory as being the horse who prevented (with the help of jockey Cash Admussen) one of our all time favourites Mtoto, from winning the Arc. Village Star and Cash kept Mtoto hemmed in, and when he and Michael Roberts got out they literally flew for the finish and just failed to catch Tony Binn and John Reid who had got first run. Over the years Village Star had begun to have a few decent jumpers and we noted this one down for various reasons, not least of that his French trainer Serge Foucher had said he was the best he'd ever had and nicknamed him 'L'Extraterrestrial'. Despite these good omens we still could not have known just how brilliant he would turn out to be.

In the last years of Persian Punch we had a share in a horse at David Elsworth's yard and had the luck to visit Punch on many occasions with Desert Orchid retired in the yard. He had such presence, even when he was very old and extremely furry. We had not seen him race having only begun to go racing in the late 90's. He was such a legend to us and when we met him 'in the fur' we literally bowed to his greatness. We wanted one of our own, no doubt about it.

We followed Kauto around and genuinely fell in love with him, still oblivious to how great he might be. He had real personality, was funny, always so boisterous at the races and loving of attention. When we visited the yard if we looked at Denman first Kauto would lean out of his box and shake his head up and down demanding we come and greet him. At the races he looked at the crowd, as if he really did know he was there for us.

The great ones always know, and looking back I am pretty sure he knew before we did just how great that he would be.

Horses bring people together. Our best friends came our way courtesy of a smallish bay gelding named See More Business and over the years we have shared many 'accidental' horses which we all agreed upon as 'keepers'. Kauto was one.

We never doubted him. Like Denman seemed a dead cert to get that Gold Cup Kauto was the horse to wrest it back. He was always like no other. The two together were perfect, like chalk and cheese.

Kauto being as great as he was did not detract from anything about Desert Orchid though and we refuse to compare the two. There is no point, one was grey, one is bay. Dessie was his own person, always in control. He carried weights and did great feats no racehorse does today. The days of Golden Miller, Arkle, Flying Bolt, Mill House and Dessie will come no more. We have different criteria by which we measure a great today, and the past is safe from erosion.

We are just so grateful that Kauto came and we had our own champion. Everyone should have at least one. (And we have been blessed with more than one!) Although, it is hard to imagine that the future could possibly hold another to join their ranks.

When Donna Blake Travelling Head Lass to Paul Nicholls drove Denman and Kauto to Cheltenham she posted that it was an honour to drive the 'Golden Boys'. The name stuck, as indeed they were.

Thank you so very very much to Anthony Bromley for finding him, to Clive Smith for having enough money to bring him to our shores, and to Paul Nicholls and his team who managed his 'horse of a lifetime' absolutely brilliantly from the very beginning right to the end. To all who helped to shape and make this wonderful fabled creature, Clifford Baker, Sonja Cook, Nicholas James Child, Rose Loxon, Ruby Walsh, Mick Fitzgerald, AP McCoy, Sam Thomas and his French jockeys, and all of the team at Ditcheat.

It's been a class act which will be very very hard to equal. Ever.

What is left now are all the tributes, the papers will be full of them tomorrow and I'm off to buy them all to stick in the scrapbook! 


Footnote: No idea where these photos have come from, other than the one of us at Ditcheat, but will try to rectify and credit when we have taken a moment to pause and reflect.

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!

The Spirit of Champions Day Past

Persian Punch - the spirit of Champions Day past
see footnote for credits

October is always an emotional month for us. It signals the end of the flat season, and the start proper of the national hunt season. We balance precariously, one hoof in each. As we are a mere 2 legged creature this is not always easy. Many distractions. Too much information. Goodbyes and hellos. Many of our friends only do one or the other code, not both. But we would find it too painful just as winter is coming to have to say goodbye to all of those who kept us company through the summer, without knowing that our winter friends were there to see us through the cold dark wet days.

You find out pretty quick in life that one thing that is certain is change. Autumn signals the time when equine friends go out to grass, to the sales or to the breeding shed. It is hard to say farewell to these horses who have shared the sunshine months with us and once you know that sometimes they never do come back it is impossible. 

October never comes that does not remind us of our biggest friend who gave us the most glorious October ever - Persian Punch. It seems yesterday and yet it was long ago and in a place and a race which no longer exists.

Champions Day on the Newmarket Rowley Mile, October 18th, 2003 when the 10 year old Persian Punch beat the favourite and won his third Jockey Club Cup bringing the house down. 

Punch ran in the Jockey Club Cup on Champions Day upon 5 occasions, winning three times, placed 3rd once, and was unplaced once.  He had been around for a few years and amassed quite a following for a flat horse who ran in group races but never won a Group 1 race. That was the vital thing about him, he was not technically a Champion. But he was most definitely a star. And he lit up flat racing like no other horse for a long while. (Note, it is for another post, but the grey Futher Flight won the Jockey Club Cup FIVE times! He too deserves to be remembered).

Towards the end of his career people went racing just to catch a glimpse of Persian Punch. They crowded round the parade ring to see his big form dragging his tiny Lad Dickie Brown. People cheered him on loudly and lost all thought od decorum if he won. You may see this on a jump track from Market Rasen to Newton Abbot, but emotion is a rare and awe inspiring event on any flat track anywhere. Few horses have been accorded this honour, certainly not those who are not Group 1 winners.

Newmarket Rowley Mile is a beautiful track. Looking down the rolling greeness of it fills you with joy. Especially if the sun is shining and it was the day Punch won his last race and his third Jockey Club Cup there. I've never been so overjoyed on a racetrack. In those days before life had dashed our innocence we thought it could last forever.

Punch looked beaten by Pat Eddery on Millenary but then he rallied and right on the line he thrust his huge head forward. Just enough.  We thought he had lost, then they called a photo finish and Punch and jockey Martin Dwyer knew. While trainers David Elsworth and John Dunlop waited together for the verdict Punch and Martin took a turn and walked back up the course in front of the crowd. When the result of the photo finish was announced the noise was so deafening that you could not hear what was being said. But we all knew. Punch was never beaten in a photo finish. The cheering that day was especially heartening because Millenary had been favourite to win the race. Sometimes, very rarely, it is not just about the betting.

I loved Newmarket. We visited often, the heart would quicken as we drew near and sadden as we drove away down Six Mile Bottom back to the dreaded motorway towards home. On that day, soaked in sunshine and victory we rushed to the long walk in to follow Punch into the Winner's Enclosure and no one stopped us. We knew he was Jeff Smith's horse, but he and David Elsworth gallantly shared him with all of us.  He and Dickie did a victory lap of the parade ring and everyone clapped and cheered until palms hurt and voices became hoarse. We cried tears of joy even though we adored little Millenary too. We could not have known that this would be the last we would ever see of our Punch, that he would die in battle the following Spring or that in October 2005 we would be back at Newmarket to unveil the bronze of him which fans asked the course to have in his memory. At the October 2004 running we were there collecting names and funds for The Persian Punch Memorial so that fans could play a part in obtaining Philip Blacker to create a bronze of him at the course. We knew it was going to be emotional and many of us were in tears several times during the day. The race had been renamed The Persian Punch Jockey Club Cup for the day. Minutes before the race his fans stood on the stairs overlooking the Winning Post and held hands while the course showed a film of that last victory of Punch's. The crowd cheered one last time for our big friend and then in a poetic end to the race Millenary had his own sweet victory in the race which Punch had denied him. On the day that we unveiled the statue to him Cover Up another of those who had raced against Punch and lost out in a photo finish to him won his Jockey Club Cup. We cheered wildly sure that Punchy was cheering his old adversary on too.

Champions Day is gone to Ascot now, The historic Jockey Club Cup was given a new vague name, the 'long distance something or another'. And at the end of this season John Dunlop is retiring too.

This race was safe in the hooves of our equine heroes during our life in racing, they gave their all to honour it. How can such a wonderful race, so richly remembered be given such a stupid meaningless name?

Change is inevitable. And it usually hurts as much as it heals. Progress has a price. 

Champions day at Ascot coincides with the beginning of racing at Cheltenham. Of which we are members. Last year when wonder horse Frankel won The Champion Stakes we were at national hunt headquarters. This year it is Frankel's swansong and we will be at Ascot, which is sold out. It's a good thing, the selling out. It indicates that Frankel is a Hero and people will come just to see him. And that even if they don't come just for the horse they come to acknowledge the greatness of his trainer, Sir Henry Cecil.  Quite right too. It's a return to the days when Persian Punch was our biggest friend and we were content to just see him in the fur, win or lose. Frankel is bound to win, and we hope that he does. It is time that racing people today have their own truly great racehorse to retire unbeaten. The likes of St Simon and Eclipse are getting lonely down that long dark corridor of history.

We have the Arc to get out of the way first though. Sadly the flying filly Dane Dream last year's winner, will not be there. And on the subject of change, Frankie Dettori rides for Coolmore. The most prestigious ride is his, on Camelot, whilst young Joseph rides St Nicholas Abbey because he cannot do the weight for Camelot. Never thought we would see Frankie back on a Coolmore bound equine, after he won The St Leger on Scorpion and his employers Godolphin did not enjoy being beaten by their own jockey on somone else's horse.

Never say never.

Footnote:

Collage One
Paintings of Punch 1. No Surrender by David Dent  2. True Grit by Caroline Cook
Photos: Winning photo by Steve Cargill for Newmarket Racecourse
Back of Martin Dwyer in victory salute by Getty
All others by Famous Racehorses

Collage Two
Memorial Raceday racecard picture from a painting by Jacqueline Stanhope
Photos of bronze from Philip Blacker