It was with a certain zest that we turned to the Sandown Park meeting
that occupied the first three days of March, for the racing of the
preceding fortnight or more had been sadly lacking in interest. The
first of the three days was denominated the Sandown Park March Meeting,
the Grand Military occupying the next two days, and the sport, on the
whole, was of an interesting character. On the Club day the appearance
of John M.P. in the Liverpool Trial Steeplechase was an event in itself
sufficient to account for the distinctly large attendance. It was a
weight-for-age race, and the winning of it did not entail any penalty
for the Grand National, save in the case of a horse that had already won
a steeplechase of three miles or over since the date of closing. John
M.P. had already won such a race when he beat pointless Desert Chief and
the untrained Kirkland, at Hurst Park; but the penalty entailed would
not signify very much, the weight assigned to John M.P. in the Grand
National entitling him to a deduction of half the penalty, in his case 4
lb., so that only 2 lb. extra would have to be carried. A strong
impression was also abroad that John M.P would not start for the
Liverpool race, but be reserved for the valuable steeplechase at Auteuil
in June. That he would win this race seemed to be taken for granted,
since 3 to 1 had to be laid on, which was holding the other Grand
National horses in the race somewhat cheap; but of course the
weight-for-age conditions made all the difference. The three and a half
miles did not worry John M.P. in the least. Nothing else could go fast
enough to make him really gallop, and a loud exclamation of admiration
from the stands burst forth spontaneously when at the water the second
time he gained a matter of three lengths from the then leader, Wolfs
Folly, in front of whom he cantered home. What he had in hand it was
impossible to say.
That any one of the old-time functions is a patch upon what it was
formerly is naturally not admitted by the old brigade, whose opinions
are, of course, expressed in the usual manner upon the Grand Military.
That gentlemen riders of forefront ability are scarce is not to be
disputed, and possibly the winner of the Grand Military Gold Cup of the
day could not compare in class with many of his predecessors; but the
old sporting spirit is still there, and the Gold Cup is coveted as much
as ever. Two or three months previous to the meeting a vigorous quest
was in progress with a view to securing a potential winner of this race,
and in this way Royal Blaze was purchased for, it is said, £500. The
purchase proved to be a happy one, for Royal Blaze won the cup for Mr.
R. F. Eyre. It was a lucky win, perhaps, but one that was well deserved,
Royal Blaze being sent to make the best of his way home from the mile
post, whereas Prizeman, whose rider lacked experience between the flags,
left matters so late that, although he was going two yards to the one of
Royal Blaze and Prince Tallyrand in the last hundred and fifty yards, he
had to put up with third place, two heads behind the winner. It was a
desperately exciting finish, and when the post was passed the race was
not over, for Mr. R. C. de Crespigny, the owner of Prince Tallyrand,
laid an objection to the winner on the technical ground that a
contingency had not been properly registered. Such an objection had been
forestalled by an application at Weatherby’s, where everything was
declared to be in order. The stewards, on the second day, over-ruled the
objection, but Mr. de Crespigny did not let the matter drop, pressing
for an appeal. The laying of technical objections in such races was
formerly not thought of, and possibly the breaking of this chivalrous
custom gives the old brigade a genuine opportunity for pointing their
moral.
On the second day we saw a remarkable performance over hurdles on the
part of Rassendyl, the hurdle-racer who has so rapidly made a name for
himself this season. He was carrying the nice little steadier of 13 st.
3 lb. and, what was so astonishing, all but carried it home. Such was
the confidence in him that his jockey did not hesitate to make running.
When half the distance of two and a half miles had been covered,
Rassendyl was dispossessed of the lead, but lay by handy, and took
command again at the first of the two flights in the straight, in spite
of having been carried out wide at the bend. He led to the run-in,
where, however, Bellivor Tor challenged and won by a neck. We English
are hoping that Rassendyl will be sent to Auteuil and further the
_entente_ by winning the big hurdle-race there. The success of an
English horse in France is by no means necessarily unpopular with the
French betting public, which means a few tens of thousands, for, if he
be a good one, national pride goes into the pocket, and they are on him
to a man, to say nothing of the women. The numbers of frugal Frenchwomen
who slave all the week, but have five or ten francs on every race on
Sundays, is astonishing to the stranger from this side of the Channel.
But on the Continent there is less fear of Mrs. Grundy than here.
The racegoer, as manufactured by the modern “park” meeting, is unable to
understand the interest that is taken in the annual National Hunt
Steeplechase. Here we have £1,000 given for a race for five-year-olds
and over, the primary condition of which is that no runner shall have
previously won a steeplechase or hurdle-race, or a flat race of any
description; point-to-point races not counting as steeplechases. This,
at one fell swoop, abolishes all notions of “class,” a feature which we
find emphasised by last year’s winner, Miss Clifton II., who for years
had tried to win this race and several others, without, of course,
succeeding. When, during a dark period of mistaken policy, the National
Hunt Committee apportioned the race to Metropolitan enclosed courses,
bearing no sort of resemblance to the real thing, the Londoner had
perforce tried to grasp the inwardness of the race, but failed. Such
form as there was puzzled him, which means that the betting was not to
his liking; and that is the only side of racing which interests him. How
so many people could take the interest they did—and as just as many
still do—in the doings of such mediocre public performers was always
beyond him, as it always will be. To enjoy the National Hunt
Steeplechase in the way it has been presented in more recent times at
Warwick and Cheltenham, one must have been educated amongst hunting
surroundings. To such this class of racing talks a language utterly
incomprehensible to the others referred to, who, understanding nothing
of the niceties of cross-country riding and unable to appreciate the
qualities of a cross-country horse, have no interest whatever in a race
beyond the position occupied at the finish by the animals they have
backed.
If one were called upon to decide between the Cheltenham and Warwick
courses, one might be inclined to vote for Warwick, although there is
not so much in it so far as the actual course is concerned, each
presenting a neat assortment of grass-land and plough. But at Warwick we
possess the not insignificant advantage of being able to see nearly
every yard of the four miles, the hill, from which outsiders obtain such
an excellent view, being all there is in the way of those in the stands,
where the accommodation, although not precisely up to date, is much
better than that at Cheltenham. The meeting at which the race takes
place is one concerning the success of which no doubt has to be
entertained. The county people could not be made to stay away by any
sort of weather, so, although rain was threatening on Thursday, the 8th
ult., the county stand, from the condition of which I should judge of
the success of this particular meeting, was crowded with the right sort.
So far as owners were concerned there was every evidence of the
popularity of the race in the large field of twenty-eight that ran. This
number has rarely been exceeded, a notable occasion being the race of
1860, in which year, I fancy, the event was inaugurated, and when
thirty-one ran. One can have but little sympathy with those who suggest
that two-thirds of the number might as well have stayed at home, for all
the chance they had of winning. If sport were always looked at thus
there would soon be very little of any kind to look at all, and what was
left would scarcely be deserving of the name of sport. Of the
twenty-eight, Glenrex and Portlight II. had filled places in previous
contests, Glenrex having run second last year, and, being also mentioned
in the Grand National betting, started favourite. Glenrex came down in
the plough a mile or more from the finish, the running having been made
from about half-way by Count Rufus, by Wise Count out of an Arraby dam.
The same plough which proved fatal to Glenrex seemed likely to also
settle the chance of Count Rufus, for he was passed by Portlight II.,
but on the good going on the racecourse Count Rufus quickly asserted
himself and won very easily in the end. In finishing second Portlight
II. is possibly merely following the lead of Miss Clifton II., to
eventually win outright. Count Rufus had cost £300, and had won some
point-to-point races, which made his starting price of 25 to 1 so
surprising.
Comfort, who won the National Hunt Steeplechase in 1903, the year the
race was last run at Warwick previous to Cheltenham getting it for two
years, did something towards bettering the none too good reputation of
winners, who seldom do much afterwards, by winning the Warwick Handicap
Steeplechase, after a good tussle with Royal Drake, who broke down
rather badly, although finishing second. On another occasion something
should be done to prevent the landing side of the water from becoming a
quagmire. More than one horse failed to keep its footing in consequence
of this, the fault being, apparently, an overflow from the water.
John M.P. made another taking appearance at Hurst Park on the Saturday
in this week in the Open Steeplechase, which proved in practice to be
the gift it seemed on paper. The odds on were of course practically
prohibitive.