Paul Hayward | Horse Racing Free Tips

Team-Building at the Core of Menuisier’s Sussex Haven

The first thing you pick up on at David Menuisier's yard in Pulborough, West Sussex, is a feeling of calm or harmony. Veterans of training ground visits will recall stepping into authoritarian mini states, ruled by fear, or at the very least by hierarchy.

A lifetime in sport teaches you one thing above all: teamwork, which sounds abstract, but really isn't, is the most vital component in success. Collective effort is born not of motivational mantras stuck on walls but the way people actually treat each other. This isn't a discussion about culture wars or hyper-sensitivity in modern workplaces – more, a study of the unifying value of manners and consideration.

Togetherness is hard to build and easy to destroy. The other day an ex-footballer told me a story about a club he played for promising a bonus pot at the end of the season, but then not handing it over, even though the side had met its half of the bargain. The club pointed to a “discretionary” clause in the agreement and kept the money. The following season, the players enacted what we now call “quiet quitting.” Coincidentally – or maybe not – they were relegated.

Menuisier trains at the great West Sussex yard of Coombelands, in Pulborough, from where the immortal Dancing Brave set forth for Guy Harwood. A genial, thoughtful Frenchman who learned his trade from Criquette Head and John Dunlop, Menuisier is a modern leader. Harwood was a maestro who is still thriving, in the posh car market. In his era, many of the top trainers were officer class (Major Dick Hern, Captain Ryan Price et al) – patricians, who cared deeply about their employees, but will have had little time for emotional introspection.

The team dynamic in football, cricket and rugby is equally applicable to racing, where trainers, work riders, vets, farriers, admin staff and visiting jockeys come together in all weathers to form a single fighting force

At Coombelands last week (look out for the full TDN interview with Menuisier), we fell into a conversation you hear in all professional sports. Sir Alex Ferguson made players excel at Manchester United not by shouting but working them out as people, then calculating how he could get what he needed from them. He could shout too, when he felt the need, but psychological manipulation was his ace card. Ferguson saw human nature through X-ray eyes.

The team dynamic in football, cricket and rugby is equally applicable to racing, where trainers, work riders, vets, farriers, admin staff and visiting jockeys come together in all weathers to form a single fighting force.

John Dunlop, who trained along the road in Arundel, was patrician but also enlightened. And Menuisier carried something he learned from Dunlop to Harwood's picturesque HQ.

“The main thing I've tried to take from him [Dunlop] was the composure,” Menuisier says. “This man was exactly the same on a good day as a bad day. That's one thing I was always really jealous of when I worked for him because it's so hard to do.

“Call it wisdom, or whatever. I think you need to get a few knocks first to build yourself an extra skin.

“I think that's what I've done in my first 10 years as a trainer.

Criquette Head always told me 'it takes 10 years to make a trainer.' She's probably right. Only now can I find that place of wisdom where you do accept you'll have good days and bad days. It's very important for your sanity and everyone around you. If you lose it every time you have an issue it will have an impact on your family life, it will have an impact on your staff, and it will have an impact on your horses.”

A Flat racing yard in January when horses are only trotting in the icy air is unrecognisable from March, when serious work begins, or the build-up to Group 1 races, when the stable stars are hours away from their reckonings. Creative tension is healthy. Adrenaline is fuel. Accountability is essential. In a highly functioning team – in any sport – each must take responsibility for his or her actions, and for the consequences.

An elite Premier League manager confides that you can tell a side is fraying when players start “doing their own thing” on the pitch. They disengage. Self-interest seeps in. The self-interest curse in racing politics is a diversion best not taken here. For now we can just enjoy Menuisier laying out the case for civility and equanimity in a trade that sends some people mad with stress.

“I want peace,” he says. “I wasn't always like this. I said to my senior staff – if I don't scream my head off around the yard I don't expect you guys to do that. I want to be treating everybody with respect because we're one team here.

“If any member of the team doesn't work for that team, it can't work. Speaking to people on an even keel is a sign of respect, and you expect that from other people. And you can work together. If you scream at them you put yourself not as a bully but as somehow superior to them.

“I'm not saying everybody's equal. You can't be equal because you have to make the decisions, but it's so much easier to make decisions when you have a good atmosphere than a bad one.”

In an impolite, polarised, tribal age, these simple thoughts on how to treat people are a balm.

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Racing’s Unique Claim to Sporting Immortality

Only in racing are the best sent off to stud to produce new – or preferably better – versions of themselves. Roger Federer, say, will have fielded countless offers for his retirement years – but not that one.

To watch magisterial Thoroughbreds race is privilege enough. But we then get to see fresh manifestations of them arrive as foals. Champions retire but their progeny take over and keep the family story going.

For many of us the end of Frankel's racing career was hard to bear. Yours truly felt a bit better about it after a visit to Juddmonte to give him a pat and write about his new life as a stallion. His change of role was such big news that BBC Radio 5 Live broadcast a 90-minute programme on how it might turn out.

When I made the pilgrimage to Juddmonte, he was showing early promise. Now, he is the big daddy of sires. It's Frankel's world: we all just live in it.

The last week or so has affirmed once more his extraordinary potency. First, his grandson (via Cracksman) Ace Impact won the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe with an exhilarating burst of power. Chasing him home were two sons of Frankel, Westover and Onesto. A couple of hours later his daughter Kelina won the Group 1 Prix de Fôret. Longchamp's podium on Arc day was the Frankel show.

Then, four days later, a Frankel colt out of Bizzarria became (at current exchange rates) the most expensive yearling sold this year in Europe, falling to MV Magnier for 2 million guineas from Tattersalls October Book 1. Coolmore were splashing on a son of the fastest sire in history to reach 50 Group winners: a stallion with 10 Group 1 winners already in 2023.

To the bloodstock industry it's a numbers game. Yet each Frankel colt or filly represents him in a way more profound than the income generated or their status on a pedigree chart – important though they are.

On racetracks and in betting shops, most punters won't care who was the sire or dam of the quadruped carrying their bet, except as a piece of data (“will he get the trip?”). Readers of this publication will know that pedigrees are a richly fascinating second dimension for the sport: a realm of hit and miss, serendipitous pairings, and, when it works, eternal life for sire and dam.

There was a problem with sending Frankel to stud. It was virtually impossible for him to sire a superior son or daughter. The same might be said of Sea The Stars, and others. But Frankel had something extra: a perfect record of 14 wins and an exuberant, Hollywood racing style, topped off with a will – or make that a need – to win. And he raced on as a four-year-old, proof of his resilience.

The package felt unsurpassable. Even with the world's best mares to buddy up with, all Frankel could do was fertilise versions of himself that were good but less good than he had been. There were other frontiers for him. His own racing range from three-to-four years old was eight-to-10 furlongs. Perhaps he could spawn a champion mile-and-a-half-horse, or even a stayer? Well, this year he has laid claim to an Ascot Gold Cup winner (Courage Mon Ami) and, as grandsire, the best middle-distance horse in Europe, Ace Impact.

The successful second life bestowed on arguably the greatest horse to have
raced in Britain is immensely pleasing.

By Galileo, 12 times the champion sire in Europe, Frankel is creating a dynasty almost as striking as his 10 Group 1 wins on the track from 2010-2012, that golden age.

Twelve per cent of his runners have won Group races. In 2023 he has dispatched from his boudoir the 2,000 Guineas winner Chaldean and Soul Sister, who won the Oaks. Last year his nine Group 1 winners made him the world's leading stallion by that measure. Westover, Nashwa, Homeless Songs, Alpinista and Inspiral were all his. His sons already at stud include Cracksman, Without Parole, Elarqam and Logician, who stands as a National Hunt stallion, as if to tick yet another box.

The successful second life bestowed on arguably the greatest horse to have raced in Britain is immensely pleasing. So many of his offspring present his urge to race and dominate – and to quicken. So many of them have natural enthusiasm – and gears. Now, he's a mellow soul led to daily dalliances. Never again will we see his sumptuous flowing stride. But he lives on as a racehorse. The entertainment he lavished on us renews itself.

You can't help feeling that racegoers who have no interest in pedigrees and think of breeding as a remote industrial satellite of betting are missing out.

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A Continuous Quest for New Frontiers

The Corinthian quest is finding life tough. These days romance is run off its legs by finance. Victory for Continuous in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, though, 15 days after his St Leger win, would make history of the most reassuring kind.

Each week frontiers in sport are crossed: stats shredded, records set, barriers smashed. With every new 'first' the surviving 'nevers' gain mystique. Racing still has a few. No horse has won the St Leger and the Arc in the same season. It was hard enough already with a three-week gap. This year Continuous could be squeezing it into a fortnight.

Enhancing the intrigue is the knowledge that Continuous's owners are not sentimental strategists. Stirring the public's imagination isn't the first job of an Aidan O'Brien horse in Coolmore colours. If it happens, all well and good. The priorities though are winning, prize-money and stud values.

Yet every now and then we see an illustrious O'Brien Thoroughbred chase something grander than commercial worth. Continuous is on that path. Before him, O'Brien's Camelot was appointed to become the first Triple Crown winner since Nijinsky in 1970. A three-quarter length defeat to the 25-1 shot Encke in the Leger was the resting place for that noble dream.

Avoidance is a modern reflex. In heavyweight boxing risk-aversion has addled the sport's marquee division. Real Madrid can't decline a Clasico fixture with Barcelona. But in racing horses can be confined to comfort zones. Derby winners may be chauffeured off to covering sheds to avert the possibility of defeat. In National Hunt racing last week the announcement that Constitution Hill would stick to hurdling this season was not well-received by armchair proponents of boldness. Their horse, their choice, is the riposte.

Victory in Paris would add lustre too to the St Leger in an age when the case for stamina as a glamorous attribute feels harder and harder to win

Yet 'the lads,' as O'Brien calls the Coolmore team, are sometimes true to Saul Bellow's line: “A man's life is not a business.” Their reaction to Camelot's defeat at Doncaster was not to give up on the Triple Crown. Only six months ago it was the target set for Auguste Rodin, who crashed out at stage one, in the 2,000 Guineas, but progressed nevertheless to stardom.

O'Brien's last four St Leger winners all tried their luck straight away at Longchamp. Kew Gardens (seventh), Capri (17th), Leading Light (12th) and Scorpion (10th) proceeded to Paris. None made it seem a good idea; but Continuous, you sense, would travel to France with more authority and a bigger chance.

“He's a hardy horse and he could back up,” O'Brien said after the seventh St Leger win of his training career. Continuous has speed to go with his stamina and the mark of an autumn horse. He began 2023 underwhelmingly with three defeats but now acts like the boss. Within days of his Doncaster win he had shortened from 12-1 to 8-1 for the Arc.

So, let's line up the historians by Longchamp's winning post? Maybe, but at their own risk of having an idle day. Ballymoss won the 1957 Leger and the 1958 Arc but had a year in between to think about it. The demands of a 1m 6f Classic for three-year-olds are distinct from an all-age European championship over a mile and a half. It's not an obvious progression, especially with the proliferation of big autumn targets, which were less numerous in Nijinsky's time.

By any measure the Arc is a gruelling race to win. And at the end of a hard campaign we enter the realm of the unknowable, unseeable vulnerabilities veiled by form. Eight horses have won the Arc twice but none has scored a treble. When Enable tried, many reasons could be found for thinking her brilliance would carry her. When she failed, it seemed strangely obvious that it was a mission too far. There is a reason why frontiers stay uncrossed. It's because they're beyond equine endurance, even with the best pedigrees, trainers and jockeys to call on, though Nijinsky's pomp was finally ended in 1970 not by fatigue so much as a narrow tactical defeat in the Arc.

O'Brien has harvested English and Irish Classics but could be said to have something of an itch, by his standards, at Longchamp. Most trainers would retire content with two Arc wins (Dylan Thomas in 2007 and Found in 2016). You might have a small bet however on O'Brien being desperate to bring his Arc record closer to his extraordinary tally of English and Irish Classic wins.

A €120,000 supplementary fee four days before the Arc would buy him another ticket to ride, with a Japanese-bred horse by Heart's Cry. And victory in Paris would add lustre too to the St Leger in an age when the case for stamina as a glamorous attribute feels harder and harder to win.

It is the way of modern sport that people talk less these days of “making history,” except as a sardine tossed to the media, or with one eye on the financial rewards. But when racehorses make history, we sure as hell honour it. We remember the trailblazers more keenly – and with gratitude. They answer the heart's cry.

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Dettori Riding High on the Long Goodbye

Frankie Dettori's retirement this winter has acquired a caveat: 'in theory.' So, in theory, the most famous jockey since Lester Piggott will ride in his last English Classic, the St Leger, at Doncaster this weekend.

More garlands, perhaps more tears shed. But Dettori's valedictory lap of world racing at 52-years-old is becoming a little complicated. With every big prize won, and each sparkling performance in the saddle, the fait accompli of his departure feels less secure.

To us, the grateful audience, the response to Dettori's radiant affirmation of his talent is straightforward: stay, don't go, U-turn, don't deprive us of the comfort of having the finest jockey perched astride our bets. In entertainment industry lore you go out at the top, leaving them wanting more. Yet there is always the risk of mistiming it. Not that any of us should be telling Dettori what to do. The dilemma, though, is relatable, for people in all professions. When have you reached 'enough'?

The cost to departing stars is high. Limelight, validation, the adrenaline-fix of winning, structure, discipline, purpose and…yes, the money. There is a Group 1 pot of riches that Dettori will have to forego if he wakes on Christmas day an ex-jockey. In these autumn months he will ride work on young horses that burn with promise. Someone else could be holding those reins next spring. Another grinning rider might be rolling in that money.

Dettori's quandary has echoes across the world of sport. The finite nature of any great career is better managed than denied. It hurts to call time. Many experience it as a bereavement. A superstar's halcyon days can become a clutter of photos and trophies that suffuse a home with a sense of loss. Some never properly adapt.

The finite nature of any great career is better managed than denied.

The memory of Roger Federer weeping courtside at London's O2 Arena last year after his final tennis match was a watery illustration of how painful and bewildering an ending can be. Federer cried so hard that Rafael Nadal found himself sobbing in sympathy. The Manchester United full-back Gary Neville walked off the pitch one day in February 2011 and retired there and then, after 602 appearances for his club. His body had betrayed him. Others cling on, refusing to believe the evidence of their decline or concealing it with bravado.

In many sports life is bisected in the mid-Thirties. Dettori is way beyond that point. Piggott was 59 when he finally retired, after a sensational comeback five years previously. Dettori's riding career spans 37 years, with plenty of undulations. However boyish his public face, he is a veteran in every sense. His current form however renders his age almost an abstraction.

Liberated, perhaps, by knowing the curtain is descending, he is riding with boldness, freedom and precision. His prime is not receding so much as finding fresh expression. His winning ride on Mostahdaf in the Juddmonte International at York on August 23 for example was not the act of a man raging against the dying of the light.

His recent joke about carrying on if a juicy retainer came his way may have been mischievous. But it was reasonable to wonder whether we were hearing the first crack in his plan to abdicate to a new life in London's Mayfair, where high society would love him, but the screens would show big races being won by horses he could have ridden. Here too he would be gambling. Racing offers no guarantees, even to household names, that this year's joy will stretch to next season.

An emotional farewell for Roger Federer in London | Getty

Dettori's retirement will flatten us, for a while. We will slide though the gears of elegy, gratitude, nostalgia and a tinge of fear about whether anyone can replace him adequately on racing's billboard.

We know the farewell tour is due to take in Champions Day at Ascot, then marquee days overseas. We know too that he has three options: stick with his retirement plan, reverse it, or step down and come back later, after a change of pace. Piggott retired but returned at 54. Twelve days after renewing his licence he won the 1990 Breeders' Cup Mile on Royal Academy. “No moment in my career ever tasted sweeter,” Piggott said then. The difference is that there will be more facets to Dettori's post-riding life than there were to Lester Piggott's.

There are things we cannot see – the sacrifices made by the Dettori family, which he may want to repay; the toll of weight-management; the travelling and stress, the urge to try new things. Wanting to retire is easier than being forced to. We can only guess how much of Dettori's exuberance this summer is rooted in a sense of impending liberation.

With every sunset comes a fear of the dark. Nobody in racing beyond his rivals in the weighing room wants to say goodbye to Frankie Dettori (even they will feel conflicted, because he brings the crowds in). This feels like a very public dilemma. In reality, it's intensely personal.

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