This article is taken from the October 2022 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.

---

In the last issue I wrote about my favourite horses mentioning, in passing, one of my own. I’ve owned four: Elegantissime, Spring Dawn, Major Miller and Admiral Miller. Lest you think I am a plutocrat masquerading as a jobbing hack, I should clarify that “owned” actually means part-owned in syndicates, one of the most wonderful developments in racing in recent years.

When I was a lad, racing wasn’t for the likes of me. It was the old joke — if you want a small fortune, start with a large one and buy a racehorse. The costs can vary wildly with so many variables: the number of syndicate members, the cost of the horse, who the trainer is and how much they charge. For the last three, all of whom were trained by Nicky Henderson (as good as it gets), my costs were roughly no more than £3,000 for the initial outlay and then around £200 a month in training fees.

The costs can vary wildly with so many variables: the number of syndicate members, the cost of the horse, who the trainer is and how much they charge

Elegantissime could have put me off racing for life. He was bought for a syndicate put together by Kim Bailey, who was then a Champion Hurdle, Gold Cup and Grand National-winning trainer and is now, again, back at the top. But when I bought into Elegantissime he was in the middle of a long, unhappy period in the doldrums.

The horse seemed promising. He was bought from the legendary Criquette Head’s fl at yard in France. But in his first two runs for us he was pulled up twice and then finished eighth of eleven in a dreadfully bad race at Southwell. We retired him.

That would have been that, had I not stumbled across Henry Ponsonby, one of the pioneers of syndicates whose horses have had great success, winning races at Cheltenham and Royal Ascot.

Henry died last month at just 74. He was a force of nature – the best company on (and off ) a racecourse and far too skilled a salesman for me to resist. He persuaded me in 2000 to take a share in Spring Dawn, a gorgeous grey chaser trained by Nicky Henderson. I had him for four years and it was a blast. He ran the same race every time, jumping for fun, always up with the lead and often careering off in front and then, just as you thought he might actually hold on, running out of steam and ending up second or third. Even A.P. McCoy couldn’t change the story when he rode him. Spring Dawn was everything you would want in a racehorse (minus the winning bit).

Major Miller gave me my first winner, a bumper (a flat race for horses bred to jump) at the now defunct Folkestone racecourse. It was his second race and he won easily. He was a seriously talented horse for whom anything was possible — but had a dodgy shoulder, which turned out to be all too frustrating. He ran fifteen times over hurdles but couldn’t manage better than a couple of seconds. And then, just to see what would happen, we put him in a chase at Perth for a decent prize. Here’s how the Racing Post described it:

“Major Miller was making his chasing debut after a largely disappointing season over hurdles. His tendency to jump left looked under control until it resurfaced in the home straight when he veered markedly left at the final two fences, bumping into his rival at the last, but straightened out again on the run-in.”

In other words: he won. Cue all sorts of hopes, but he never managed better than third again.

The upside was that I got to take my kids to Ascot to watch him run. The downside: he finished sixth of seven runners

My last horse, Admiral Miller, flattered to deceive. After four mystifyingly bad runs, Nicky gave up and suggested trying him on the flat. We sent him to Eve Johnson Houghton. The upside was that I got to take my kids to Ascot to watch him run. The downside: he finished sixth of seven runners. We retired him soon after.

That was in 2015 and, much as I’ve been tempted again, the financial reality of two children means, at least for the foreseeable future, I’ll have to stick to enjoying other people’s horses.

But I’ve some wonderful memories, the best of which is undoubtedly a morning on the gallops in Nicky Henderson’s Land Rover as he told me about every horse coming by. One day again, perhaps …