From The Real To The Magical: The Power Of The Thoroughbred 

Racing is famously described as living in its own little bubble. (People often say this crossly, with exasperation.) And it is, in many ways, a world of its own. It is so specialised and so absorbing and so difficult to understand for those outside it. It even has its own language – arcane technical terms and ancient slangs which few people beyond Newmarket and Lambourn understand.

Yet racing people are also human people. They do live in the real world. They watch the news. They feel the terrifying clashes of the geopolitical tectonic plates.

A friend rang up this week, a breeder and a writer, and she told me how she had gone out on the Heath and felt such simple gladness to see the Flat horses on Warren Hill after their winter rest. 'But,' she said, 'I bumped into a trainer and we did not speak of the horses. We talked for half an hour about Ukraine. Because it is so heartbreaking and we felt guilty entertaining even the merest hint of pleasure.'

Racing people are human people and this is a very human reaction to a catastrophic situation. How can we, in peaceful Blighty, laugh and smile when Ukrainian children are hiding from bombs in basements and underground stations?

This question cuts hard at the moment, because this is one of the most joyous times of the racing year. The glory of Cheltenham is shimmering on the horizon – those four glittering, heart-lifting days which National Hunt fans wait for like a child waits for Christmas. And then, the moment all of that is over, the promise of the Flat strides onto centre stage. It will be time to think of the Guineas, when a new star will shine on the Rowley Mile, and the whole panoply of the Classic series spreads out in the imagination of those who love Thoroughbreds.

For the people who work with these wonderful athletes, this time of year has other kinds of joy in it. Spring is in the air, and the horses are casting off their wintriness and starting to bloom. They will soon feel the warmth of the sun on their backs and unfurl, in body and mind, like daffodils turning their heads to the light. For the humans who look after them, working in a yard will no longer be a fumble of frozen fingers and a balancing act on icy surfaces. It is the hopeful season, in every sense of the word.

But the world. The pandemic has been bad enough, with its uncertainties and its odd tribalisms and its constraints and its griefs. Now there is a war, with its mournful note of human suffering and its sinister threat of nuclear action. How can anyone take joy in such a superficial thing as a horse race when that is happening?

As I struggle to find an answer to that question, I think of my dad. He started off as a steeplechase jockey, an amateur rider who faced the big birch fences for the love of it, and by the time I came along, in the late sixties, he was starting to train. The 1970s of my childhood were dark days indeed. The spectre of the Cold War hung over everything. Britain was a basket case, humiliatingly bailed out by the IMF, plagued with strikes, disfigured by unemployment. The Troubles were at their horrible height, and it was an ordinary part of life that bombs would go off in the cities and towns, in pubs and barracks. (It seems extraordinary, writing this now; extraordinary that people got used to this. Nobody thought it would ever end, and then, one day, with the Good Friday Agreement, it did.)

And yet there was Dad, riding his horses and singing his songs; dreaming of the Grand National and of the accumulator that would change his life. (It never did.) He was not a callous or a frippery man; he felt things deeply. But he would not let worldly horrors taint his love of his horses, the freedom he felt when he was up on the downs, the delight he took in his racing compadres.

Maybe, I think now, it was the horses that saved him.

Because here is the thing I truly believe about racing: it is different from other sports, because of the horses. Racing is another world because horses are another species. They know nothing of our human complexities. They don't watch the news. They have no politics. They don't get into shouting matches on social media. I think that the people who love them and care for them and cheer them on feel this, on a conscious or subconscious level.

There is something so pure about those racing Thoroughbreds. They are a very special breed, with a high intelligence. They are powerful and athletic and fast. They thrill, but they also inspire – with their courage, their honesty, their willingness. I often think that racing horses have many of the qualities I look for in humans: authenticity, generosity of spirit, grace. Horses, a very wise man once wrote, don't lie.

Because of this, I think they offer tired, fretful humans an escape, into another plane of being. And we all need a rest, sometimes, especially when the sorrows come not in single spies, but in battalions.

I want to answer my friend's question with a ringing yes, like Molly Bloom at the end of Ulysses. I want to say yes, and yes, and yes, and yes: we can feel pleasure, without guilt in it. I want to say that we lovers of the horse should feel pleasure, in these dark days. Because the point of life is that it can hold all the emotions. The anguish and despair are real, and there is no point trying to banish them with a bit of positive thinking and a pint of gin. But they can be balanced by the high emotions of life: that sheer, exuberant delight when a great horse comes storming up the hill at Prestbury Park to the collective roar of seventy thousand voices. That spine-tingling, otherworldly feeling that the racing tribe felt when it saw Frankel, appearing to break the laws of physics, as the commentator yelled, disbelief rising in his voice, 'But at the bushes, Frankel is fifteen lengths clear.' 

When America was mired in the Great Depression, a little horse with the heart of a lion came along and gave the benighted citizens something to hope for. Seabiscuit didn't look like much, and he seemed to prefer sleeping to racing, and he didn't come from a grand yard. The snooty bluebloods in the East sneered at what they regarded as little more than a scrawny cow pony, until he came out and silenced them in his famous match race against the huge, gleaming War Admiral. (The amazing thing is that, in his retirement, Seabiscuit did indeed ride out to check on the cows.)

The Little Horse That Could famously sold out the cheap seats; the infield, where people without much money could go to watch the racing, was rammed when he appeared. He seemed to chime a resonant note with all those people who were struggling: he too had been counted down and out, and yet he somehow rose, to defy the doubters. He was probably the first true People's Horse. For a glorious, giddy, breathless moment, ordinary Americans could forget their troubles and dream of something fine.

You could say the same for Secretariat, who came along in the tumultuous, divisive times of the seventies. Soaring inflation and a country bitterly divided over the Vietnam War gave the American public a lot to deal with. Secretariat, fondly known as Big Red, seemed to unite everyone: young and old, rich and poor, left and right.

The horses, with their beauty and their courage, take people away from the sorrowful and the humdrum and the frightening. But it is more than that. There are always the great human stories. At Cheltenham this year, perhaps the story of the meeting is that of the Hamiltons.

When you arrive at Prestbury Park, the infield is not crowded with the ordinary people who came to cheer on Seabiscuit. It is filled with shiny helicopters, as the millionaires and billionaires fly in to watch their expensive stars. In the car park by the stables, fleets of vast, gleaming horse boxes are lined up, like slumbering giants. Many of them come from Ireland, transporting the conquering army of Willie Mullins. He'll have around fifty horses sailing across the Irish Sea. Ann and Ian Hamilton will have one runner, and they'll bring him to the races themselves.

They are farmers, up at dawn to see to the cows and the sheep, living and dying by the weather, devoted to a lifetime of relentless work. They have six racehorses. I read that they almost didn't come to Cheltenham this year because it would be a three-day trip, and they wondered who would look after the livestock while they were away. Anything further away from the vast operations of a Nicholls or a Mullins could hardly be imagined.

And yet there they are, rolling the dice. They've got a beauty in Tommy's Oscar, and he's a proper horse, and they adore him, and he has every right to take his place on the biggest stage of all. You never want to underestimate Ann Hamilton. The 69-year-old might only train six horses, but she's got a 43% strike-rate this season, which the big trainers can only dream about. Tommy's Oscar will almost certainly not take the crown of the majestic Honeysuckle, the reigning queen of racing, but he'll give each-way punters a shout for their money. To me, the very fact that he takes his place in the line-up is a victory. The Hamiltons have already won, because they have proved that you can outrun the odds with belief, and hard work, and a dream.

The other beautiful, hopeful story is that of Paisley Park. There was a time when this grand fella drove all before him. When he was in his pomp, the others might as well not turn up, he was so invincible. Then he had a physical setback and when he returned he was a bit in and out. He remained adored, because he's a lovely horse in his own right, and also because his owner is blind, and comes to the races with a crew of good friends, who tell him what is unfolding out on the track. Andrew Gemmell's smile could illuminate the whole of Cleeve Hill, and I'm not sure I ever saw an owner who got so much joy from his racing.

But the feeling was that dear old Paisley was past his prime, that he might even have fallen out of love with the game. On his last run, he whipped round at the start, so he was facing the wrong way as the field set off. By the time Aidan Coleman got him sorted out, he was twenty lengths behind the rest. Ruby Walsh, who has forgotten more about winning races than most people ever know, said they might as well go back to the parade ring. Watching my old favourite, I couldn't disagree.

Paisley Park, however, comes as close as a horse ever can to having a sense of humour. It was almost as if he heard Ruby and thought he'd have a little joke with him. He kept on galloping and kept on galloping and suddenly, unbelievably, he was in front, back where he belonged. Ruby, with tremendous grace, said, 'It just goes to show you should never give up.'

Paisley Park will line up again in the Stayers' Hurdle, and it's impossible to know what he will do. But rather like Tommy's Oscar, just the fact that he is there is a win, a source of delight, and a reminder that perseverance is one of the greatest of all qualities.

These individual stories might not add up to a hill of beans in the face of the wider world. Yet they are much more than the sum of their constituent parts. They are symbolic, even totemic – their ripples reach wide and deep. In the end, I believe that everything comes down to connection, and the tales of the great horses and their marvellous humans touch something deep in the spirit. Racing, at its best, is a soul thing, and we all need a bit of that.

So I come back to my Molly Bloom yes. I'll be shouting on my equine heroines and heroes next week. I will, as I always do, cry unashamed tears of joy. For a few short days, I will move from the real to the magical. That is the gift that Thoroughbreds give me, and thousands like me, and it is a gift that is beyond price.

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Ex-Racehorses At The Heart Of Therapeutic Venture

For many people, the recent Panorama documentary which focused on the desperate plight of a handful of former racehorses ending up at an abattoir was distressing viewing. For many of us who work with racehorses, it also brought about a feeling of utter frustration.

Frustration that a 30-minute programme which showed just one side of a story could potentially undo so much of the good work that has been done in aftercare for ex-racehorses for years. Frustration that some people who do very well out of owning and training racehorses still do not take the necessary steps when it comes to rehoming or, in some cases, euthanasia.

There are plenty of wonderful examples of how we can help Thoroughbreds to have a useful second career–in eventing, showjumping, hunting, polo, or simply as a much-loved riding horse–and what is perhaps not emphasised enough is how they can help us. Nowhere is this more apparent than at Horseback UK in Scotland. Set among the heather and gorse-clad hills of rural Aberdeenshire, the charitable venture is a therapy centre with a difference. Here the 35 counsellors have four legs, some longer than others, and none so fleet of foot as the four former racehorses among the mixed equine herd.

Set up 12 years ago by Jock and Emma Hutchison, Horseback UK was a response to Jock's experiences as a Royal Marine Commando and his desire to help some of his former colleagues who had left the military after tours of Afghanistan in less fortunate circumstances than himself, many with life-changing injuries.

“Having left the Marines myself I know that it's not a job, it's an identity, and I thought that these guys needed a bit more help to adjust to the civilian world,” he says. “What we learned from the process is that the guys really need three things after injury and recovery. They need community, and they need to be part of a team because that's what they miss most. They also need purpose in their lives. They're people with a lot of energy, and they need to be empowered. These people can contribute enormously to our world if we give them a platform to do that from. And we do that with horses.”

Hutchison continues, “At the beginning we thought that we were going to do that to give people mobility with dignity. There was a huge number of people who came here who had been injured by IEDs and they had lost lower limbs. These were fit, young people who enjoyed being in the great outdoors.

“We learnt fairly quickly that even if the physical injury looked as if it was their biggest problem, everyone who was affected physically was also affected mentally.”

The three-week residential course includes interacting with horses from the ground up for those with no previous equine experience, as well as a range of outdoor activities, and it results in a Scottish Qualifications Authority Level 4 Certificate in Personal Development Through Horsemanship. The courses have since been expanded from the military focus to include community and school courses aimed at helping folk with a range of issues, including substance abuse, depression and autism. Over the years, around 2,500 people have benefited through the work of this charity which recently gained a royal patron in the Duchess of Cornwall.

“Five years ago we started to work with young people,” says Hutchison. “These were kids who were disengaged with school and the vast majority of them had lost their confidence and lost that belief in themselves. It was about reconnection and rebuilding that confidence.”

He continues, “When people have lost their confidence they find it difficult to interact with other people, but they don't mind interacting with a horse. We wanted to make sure that their time here was safe, so the relationship was going to be built on the ground. That building up of the relationship actually proved to be much more powerful than the riding, because what it did was it empowered people to become leaders again. And they hadn't been a leader of anything, not of themselves, not of their life, not of their fate, and all of a sudden they were controlling three-quarters of a ton of animal–a beautiful animal.”

The Hutchisons have a wealth of equine experience through lifelong contact with horses in different roles and they are both keen exponents of western riding. Among their team at Horseback UK are two people with strong links to the horseracing world. Tania Kindersley, who promotes the charity through social media, grew up in Lambourn where her father Gay, the legendary champion amateur rider, was training. Yard manager Duggie Loy worked for several trainers in England and Scotland for many years before depression and anxiety led to him being referred to Racing Welfare. From there, the Horseback UK course was suggested to try to help him regain some equilibrium after two suicide attempts. Loy later returned as a volunteer and loved the lifestyle in Aboyne so much he ended up working at Horseback UK full time.

He says, “When I came up here four years ago I found a totally different way of working with horses and for me it brought back the joy of working with them. It's a bit of a slower way of life but gradually I've got the yard coming round to ex-racehorses and we now have a team of four of them among our herd of 35 horses.”

Loy continues, “The thoroughbreds are brilliant at this job. I think people have this impression of ex-racehorses being wild or nuts but they are not. They're highly trained, and they just need time to adapt. For a lot of the guys with PTSD, possible anger issues and anxiety, being able to work with a racehorse and bring it down by using breathing techniques, just standing and taking time, we're actually working on the person as well as the horse without them realising it. It's actually quite sneaky. I didn't realise it when I was doing my course. It wasn't until I came back as a volunteer working with other horses that I realised 'ah, that's what happening, that's how I learned to relax and be around horses and people again'. They're brilliant.”

Jock Hutchison did not need too much convincing when it came to taking on Thoroughbreds at Horseback UK and he is keen to expand his links with the Retraining of Racehorses (RoR) organisation.

“I got introduced to Thoroughbreds by some fantastic people,” he says. “Di Arbuthnot, who runs RoR, and Emma Balding and it was a fantastic way to start. I didn't know anything about Thoroughbreds until I went down to Kingsclere and I was astonished by the love the people had for the horses. I was just taken up by the whole thing.”

He has since forged his own strong partnership with the former sprinter Peopleton Brook (GB) (Compton Place {GB}). Now 19, the gelding ran 93 times across seven seasons, winning on nine occasions.

“Peopleton Brook broke down the barriers,” Hutchison continues. “I used him in demonstrations at the Grand National, and in presentations with business leaders. To me, my relationship with him is the epitome of team work for the people who come here. They've become isolated so a huge step forward in their recovery is to become part of a team again.

“The brilliant thing about the Thoroughbred is that he's clever enough and sensitive enough to react. We've tried using other horses but there is nothing that compares to a Thoroughbred.”

As with so many businesses and charities over the last 18 months, the pandemic has caused much disruption. But at Horseback UK it has also opened up a new avenue. In-person course work had, until recently, given way to online presentations and that included two pilot courses for frontline NHS workers who have endured their own form of trauma in dealing with Covid patients and their families. 

“We have ambitions to expand what we have learned here and to that end, Di, Emma and others are talking about how we can get more Thoroughbreds involved in the wellbeing of the people of this country,” Hutchison explains. 

“We've just carried out two pilots for the NHS, and there has been a huge improvement in the wellbeing of the people that we have talked to on Zoom. The idea now is to expand into the Grampian region and to roll out to 16,000 NHS workers as the next step, and then roll it out to the country.”

The Hutchisons hope to have Thoroughbreds at the heart of this project, which has the backing of RoR chief executive Di Arbuthnot. She says, “I've always felt very strongly about using horses in this way–for me it's even as simple as remembering crying into my pony's mane as a child. They are wonderfully therapeutic to be around. 

“I'm a huge fan of Jock and Emma and their work, especially with the NHS staff. Jock has realised that the Thoroughbred is intelligent and versatile and really works in this area. Although Horseback UK will never take a huge number of our horses I think it is really important that we use them and if there are suitable horses to go into this area we should be right behind it, which we are.”

Hutchison's own bond with the veteran Peopleton Brook is clear to see, as is the older horse's attachment to his new paddock mate Delatite (GB) (Schiaparelli {Ger}), a bumper winner who was retired from racing earlier this year. Fetlock surgery during his time in training put a further competitive career in doubt, but the 8-year-old gelding has adjusted quickly to his quieter life in the Highlands and is quickly learning the ropes, from connecting with the Horseback UK team on the ground to neck reining.

Hutchison says, “I hope this creates a second career for some horses who might otherwise not get one. It's good for industry, it's good for the horses, and most importantly it's good for the people.”

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