Welcome to the October 2001 On-Line Edition of

St George's News

Waterlooville's Parish Magazine

THE SPORT OF KINGS

Racing is the King of Sports and the Sport of Kings. At least, that is what I have been told. And since I have never been to a horse race meeting in my life, who am I to contradict. But some funny things have happened on race courses - that's 'funny peculiar' not 'funny ha ha'. Like the Grand National meeting in 1904 (long before my time, so I am only going on hearsay). This particular incident started during a storm off Cape Town, when a ship, whose name I don't know but which is completely immaterial to the story, was wrecked. On board this ship was a race horse buy the name of Moifaa. Needless to say, everyone was too busy trying to save their own lives to worry about a mere horse, however valuable it was, and, left to his own devices, Moifaa swam ashore. Not too difficult a thing for a fit and healthy horse, you might think. But this swim was over a staggering distance of 100 miles. When the horse was found his owners were notified, and Moifaa finished his journey to England and to Aintree. Since he had travelled halfway round the world to run in the Grand National, it was decided to enter him just for the sake of it. As was only to be expected, after his experience nobody really expected him to finish the course. He started as a complete outsider at odds of 25 to 1, and he not only completed the course but came in a clear winner.

A few years before this happened, in fact way back in 1780, the first of a yearly race for three-year-old horses was run. The race had the gentlemanly condition that all colts would carry 9 stone (that's 126 pound avoirdupois in case you are interested) while fillies would carry 5 lb less. The race was inaugurated by the 12th Earl of Derby and his friend Sir Charles Bunbury. When the two couldn't agree on a name for the race, they tossed a coin. The 12th Earl won, and the race became known as the 'Derby'. Just think, if the coin had come down the other way up we would be talking about 'Bunbury Day', which somehow doesn't have the same ring as 'Derby Day'. The winner of the race? Diomed, who happened to be owned by Sir Charles, which was some consolation. And just in case this new race didn't raise much interest among the folk of the time, it was followed by a cockfight to give the day a bit more excitement.

But back to the Grand National, and on to the year 1956. (And I do vaguely remember this incident). Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother had a horse by the name of 'Devon Loch' entered in the race. The horse had been running well throughout the race, and cleared the last fence well ahead of the other runners. Nothing, it seemed, could stop him winning. Then, just a few yards from the line, his back legs seemed to slip from under him, he skidded and belly-flopped. Dick Francis, the jockey, jumped off the horse's back, fearing that somehow it had broken a leg, and 'E.S.B' galloped past to be declared the winner. And while everyone was wondering whether 'Devon Loch' had suffered a heart attack or a convulsion or had tried to jump over his own shadow and tripped, the horse got up and walked away, completely unharmed and unaware of the furore he had caused. But the Queen Mother summed it all up in four words. "That's racing, I suppose."

Bill Hutchings

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