First at the Post
The first issue of Racing Post was published on Tuesday, 15 April 1986.
The staff had been recruited over the previous six months, some headhunted, but most through a series of interviews from full mailbags of applications.
My own appointment for the position of Accountant had been surprisingly achieved from a field of 53, and in the weeks that followed, I thought I had died and gone to heaven – having an office on the top floor meant regularly passing the time of day with the likes of Sir Peter O’Sullevan, Lord Oaksey and Brough Scott.
The first Editor, Graham Rock (later of Pasternak fame), had put together a professional and polished team of journalists and sub-editors from Timeform, The Sporting Life, the late Sporting Chronicle and from the ranks of the national dailies.
Impressively, among the hundred or so staff, there were a number of devotees in Editorial, who, having already watched all the races on TV that day, would take home the video’s to analyse them again that evening.
As in any gathering of dedicated sporting aficionados, eccentrics were well represented, as were those walking the tightrope of life; one man was reputed to be living in a room without furniture, but kept his greyhound books in the refrigerator, while another came to work in shorts and mountain boots whatever the weather.
There was also the young man, who ran up a large bookies bill and then disappeared, it was thought, to Australia – one aspect of a betting life.
The girls, however, came from different stock. A few, a generation before, may well have been presented as debutants, but in the main, most were well-educated and well-groomed secretaries. Those in Advertising tended to be a bit worldlier, but despite the dizzy pace of life, they knew how to keep their wheels on the road.
After producing several dummy run editions there was great relief and a sense of achievement when the paper finally went live.
Sonic Lady, featured on the front page of the first edition, duly won the Nell Gwyn that day, while Dancing Brave took the Craven Stakes two days later.
After the Guineas Meeting, due to the scheduled demolition and rebuilding of the Rowley Mile Members Stand, the remainder of the Newmarket fixtures that year were transferred to the July Course, including both the Cambridgeshire and the Cesarewitch.
Later, that October, with the staff settled in and the Post’s circulation growing month on month, a camaraderie had built up, and nowhere more so, than in the Advertising and Bloodstock departments, where around ten staff, hell bent on making their monthly targets, would as a diversion, avidly discuss the merits of the big race candidates.
Landing the ‘Autumn Double’ had always been an ambition of mine and although my previous Cesarewitch winners included Avon’s Pride, Grey of Falloden and Cider with Rosie, all at good prices, I had never been able to double them with the Cambridgeshire winner.
About a week before the Cambridgeshire, I put together four £3 win ante-post doubles – two in each leg – Dallas 14-1 and Tremblant in the Cambridgeshire, with Orange Hill at 33-1 and what turned out to be a non-runner in the Cesarewitch.
Watching the Cambridgeshire at home on TV, Luca Camani’s Dallas ridden by Ray Cochrane, scooted home inside the final furlong, to win by half-a-length from Power Bender, while my other selection, Tremblant, ran well to finish fourth.
The days that followed had a sustained expectancy as my small bet had progressed to a useful £45 going on a 33-1 shot. And since our son Shaun, had entered Cambridge University and was living in local digs, I decided to make a day of it by visiting him before going on to Newmarket. As it was, he came too and, started out with a party of friends.
“What’s all this about Orange Hill?” they asked.
“Well, it’s just that it’s the second leg of an ‘Autumn Double’ bet that I’ve being trying to win since I was a tiny tearaway.”
“Has it got a chance?”
“Should we back it?”
The questions came thick and fast and I guessed that Shaun had told them that I worked at Racing Post.
Anyway, later, when we met up with them again on the racecourse, they had all bet a pound or two on Orange Hill, who by that time had shortened to 20-1.
It was a good card that day and getting to the back of the long grandstand, we saw the gallant filly Triptych win the Champion Stakes in style from Celestial Storm.
Too nervous to go to the paddock for the Cesarewitch, I stayed high up in the stands. Twenty-five runners went to post, with Misrule the 11-2 favourite, while my filly, Orange Hill, was not in the first ten in the betting. As they cantered to post, I zoomed in on my dark green colours.
The long awaited “They’re Off,” reverberated along the course. But with all the excitement I was having difficulty in keeping my binoculars steady. Although I thought I spotted her about three furlongs out, seemingly going well, until she suddenly appeared in trouble and was shuffled back. I lowered my glasses – oh well, it was not to be.
Then a furlong out, I heard the commentator mention Orange Hill. Scanning the leaders, I saw a horse in dark green silks. This one with a black cap – not the one I had been following.
What’s more, she went into the lead and with Richard Fox working away with only 7st 9lb, she looked to be staying on – just.
Both Marlion and Misrule closed to finish alongside and I feared there may have been some bumping – or was it just my heart?
I ran down to the winner’s enclosure for a closer look – then waited. Would there be a stewards enquiry? But no, Fox looked happy and was chatting to trainer Jeremy Tree. The ‘Weighed In’ was called and I raced off to find the telephones, which in these were pre-mobile days, were strangely housed under a row of thatched umbrellas.
“Hello Pat, Orange Hill won! Wonderful, yes I know. Look,” I continued, “Would you go down to Thomas Cook’s and book flights to Vancouver for the family? We are going to make that overdue trip to see your brother.”
About an hour later, having missed the next two races, I met up with Shaun and his mates in the bar at the top of the stand. In their effort to ‘strike while the iron was hot’, I was inevitably asked, “Who’s going to win the last?”
David Elsworth was running Perfect Timing; could she be the third 4-y-o filly to win that afternoon? Her task looked difficult with 9st 11lb, but she did have Steve Cauthen aboard. However, what tipped the balance for me was her dam’s sire, Indigenous, still held the World record over five furlongs – albeit over Epsom’s downhill run, on firm ground and, with the wind behind him!
So having explained my careful, but probably flawed reasoning, they all headed off to the bookies boards like men possessed – taking my modest tenner with them.
Having already witnessed the miracle of landing the Autumn Double, to see Cauthen take up the running in the final 150 yards and win at 8-1, seemed predestined.
Later, Shaun’s friends memorably hailed me as the best father a chap could wish for and, made me promise to tell them when I was next going to Newmarket.
Back at Racing Post the following Monday, word got around that “Churchy has had a big win.”
At lunchtime, we celebrated cheerily with a few beers. Even editor Graham Rock put his head in, “Well done Churchy – first class.” Then with a broad hint of irony added, “If Adrian Cook (Diomed) ever goes sick, I might just be in touch.”
Actually getting my hands on the dosh, however, took a little longer.
For going into the local Coral’s, I was told, “Sorry we don’t keep that much in the till; security, you know. Can you come back in an hour?” This I did.
However, the week before, an alert had gone around, that there were some dud £50 notes in the area. So, when I eventually got paid out with 30 of them, plus a few tenners, I conscientiously began to hold them up, one-by-one, to the light.
Meanwhile, some of the senior Racing Post staff had come into the shop and were standing in line behind me. Soon, two of them started a whispered count …. “Eleven hundred, twelve hundred,” and so on, until eventually they filled the shop with their chant.
I slipped away discreetly – but they never let me forget that day – as if I would.
For more racing history see Michael’s Books for Sale.
To see Michael’s interviews go to the foot of About Michael