National hope
Jeffrey Bernard
It's a funny old race is the Grand National. JfI tell you what I really think of it as a betting proposition then something's bound to go wrong, but I will anyway. Being wise. after something like twenty-five of the wretched events I always find myself thinking that the National is one of the easier big handicaps to pick the winner of. Merryman and Nicolaus Silver, for example, stood out like sweet thumbs. I even backed Russian Hero, Ayala and Anglo, and none of those had much of a chance. But. The thing about the National, in my not so humble opinion, is that you can always linlinate so many horses on two grounds: inability to jump well and inability to stay, both vital in the longest major steeplechase, Over old-fashioned Aintree fences. The dodgy one of the two is the question of staying. Russian Hero, unfairly famous siMply for having been tipped by the then DclilY Worker, I believe I'm right in saying, never previously won over more than two and a half miles. Specify was another that asn't supposed to be able to stay, but what has to be taken into account is the fact that Fond jockeys can get good middle distance ...norses to stay by getting them to hack round tor the first circuit. Fred Winter knows about all that and talks about it in the most tnarvellously casual fashion. He dismounted °ne of his National winners and remarked
to the press that the first circuit was as sweet as hunting.
He did once shock me with his hardness before a National. I'd just been down to the
yard at Lambourn and he'd shown me around the stableboys' hostel. Being the middle of the day it was deserted, but then I noticed a bunk occupied by one lad whose head was entirely swathed in bandages. I
asked what the matter was and I was told the lad in question was the one that did Anglo and that the horse had just kicked him in the head and necessitated thirty-five stitches in the cranium. I muttered some thing feeble about how sorry I was and as we left the hostel Fred said, 'Actually I feel rather optimistic. It. shows that Anglo's really on his toes.' I remembered the remark and six weeks later, come the National, I backed Anglo.
At the time it was a rather horrific and embarrassing experience. I was very short of readies, unemployed and living with a paranoid girl of great wealth who quite rightly thought that everyone was after her money. We had a party on Grand National day and as I watched Anglo skip over the last few fences and draw farther and farther away as though he was having a little canter on the Lambourn Downs, I could have won an Oscar for my acting. I knew that if the
lady in question tumbled the fact that I'd
just backed a 50-1 winner, then I wouldn't see much of it since it would be levied as a
love tax. But I managed to hold my head in my hands and moan and moan and utter phrases like, 'Stuffed again.' Inwardly I was jumping over the then unsullied moon. In fact, the National has always been a very good race for me. Now, let's spoil a good , record. I tipped Fluellen for the Lincoln in last week's Spectator and he got beaten a
neck. I've still got an each-way double going from Fluellen on to Andy Pandy. The trouble is, I've slightly gone off Andy Pandy. He jumps terribly well and he turned in a terrific performance when he gave Sir Garnet 10 lbs and a half a length beating but I just don't see it. The one I really like is Gay Vulgan, but I've got reservations about him too. Although he's won his last five races, the last one might have taken a hell of a lot out of him. At Cheltenham, in the National Hunt Handicap Chase, he showed enormous courage in beating Prince Rock, and he may not recover in time. Red Rum, the greatest ever Aintree horse of all time, I've opposed with money as well as mouth. I've laid a friend of mine 10 to £200. If he wins, God knows where I'll find the £200 and God knows where my friend will find
the patience to wait for it. At the Spectator it may not surprise you to know that there are
a few betting fanatics too. Geoffrey Wheat croft gives Zeta's Son and managing editor Simon Courtauld says War Bonnet. The editor hasn't got a clue and thinks that all of us who are interested in the National, never mind write about it, are mad. So my final three are Gay Vulgan, Brown Admiral (why, oh why, don't I desert the wretched beast ?) and, as a long shot, Castleruddery.
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