What I love about Newmarket: Reflections on Guineas weekend
Horse Racing: Why I love going racing at Newmarket
The Newmarket Stallion
It’s early on Saturday morning and the house is largely still at rest.
This peace will be short-lived, and the amount of time I have to pen something meaningful is running short.
I thought I might take to my keyboard again after I read the Racing Post this morning and was reminded of a bumper weekend of action at the home of horse racing.
It is Guineas weekend, the first classics of the Summer will be run today and tomorrow, in the form of the 2000 and 1000 Guineas. The 2 races show off the best 3 year old thoroughbreds colts and fillies respectively, and lay the foundations of not only the flat racing season, but the sporting Summer as a whole. In a normal year.
No normal Guineas weekend
Of course, 2020 is no normal year. So far we have battled Covid-19, the world has spoken out about equality in the light of tragedy and a private company has sent 2 human beings into space. Add to that list Liverpool winning a Premier League title and you have quite the eventful year… and its only early June.
The Guineas will be run behind closed doors this year, with horse racing the first professional sport to return to action in lockdown, with distancing measures in place.
In the 5 days of racing we have had so far, the various administrations have done a good job of adhering to guidelines, and there have been no incidents or outbreaks.
I am glad the Guineas are being run for a number of reasons:
A) Selfishly, I want to watch some top class sporting action.
B) We all need a hero, no matter what form it comes in. I believe Godolphin wonder horse Pinatubo might just have the credentials to fit that bill for a short time.
In the absence of sportswomen and men from our screens, a wonder horse might be what we all need.
He may not have a remarkable story and is certainly not a rag-to-riches horse, but he is unbeaten in 6 races, and if he wins the 2,000 guineas, they will be talking about a second Frankel.
C) The racing industry, in which I work, needs this day. By virtue of covid-19, Racing will have a bigger audience than normal today. People will be glued to ITV and that is a good thing for the sport.
It would be nice to see Horse Racing do something a little different to engage those at home outside of betting and picking winners, but that is for another day.
Newmarket - a day at the races
Partnered with optimism and enthusiasm, for me, is a little bit of gloom, and a touch of glum about this weekend. For one main reason.
I love going racing.
No matter my professional involvement, make no mistake, I really love going racing, and I really enjoy going racing at Newmarket.
Living in Wiltshire, the start of a day or weekend racing starts with a long journey, preferably with someone else driving so I can pretend to pick some winners from the paper. This routine is not exclusively for use on a Newmarket race day you understand.
The purchase of the Post, the pouring over the form, the blackened fingertips and the heightened (later lightened) expectations of a heavier wallet are the staple of a well-trodden path to any day at the races.
The journey takes me past the valley of the racehorse and one passed Newbury racecourse as we head East towards. A gentle meander around the worlds most infuriating road takes us around London and into Essex and beyond.
For me perhaps the most magical moment is the arrival into the town itself. As you come to the end of the long tree lined road that leads into Newmarket, passing studs and stables, you are met by the spellbinding majesty of the Newmarket Stallion statue.
The statue is the centrepiece of the large roundabout that takes you one way to the July course, or the other into the town centre.
There is something quite comforting to see a physical affirmation that you are in horse country. The home of racing is immortalised in this magnificent artwork, and is something that gives me a spine-tingling jolt of nostalgia and excitement every time I see it.
Wherever I am staying, be it the Jockey Club Rooms, the Bedford Lodge or out of town at the Packhorse, I do like to check in and drop off my gear, wash the Racing Post off my hands and put on a tie.
Yes, I am one of those who wears a tie racing, even if we are not on the clock. I don’t know why, it just feels appropriate, and you never know who you might bump into.
The racecourses themselves are not on my list of favourites as venues.
Don’t get me wrong, I like them The July course has a charm and history to it that you simply don’t see at other courses and the quality of racing there and at the Rowley Mile is always fantastic.
But for me, the magic is in the town and the atmosphere of being around the place.
If I am there the night before, I like seeing people in the bars and restaurants, and I love waking up early and walking up to the gallops to see the trainers watching over their strings.
Walking past Heath House and knowing that Sir Mark is plotting inside, and watching the racing ecosystem begin its daily routine is fascinating.
That same routine that has been taking place on the heath for over 300 years reminds me that some things must simply be as they are.
By this I mean, a horse needs exercise, a racehorse needs to train, it will need tacking up, and its stable will need mucking out.
It will be loved, admired and cherished by its handler, it will be adored by its owners and be either hero or villain to the general public.
These things will not change whether we are buying goods from floating warehouses or using driverless cars to take us home from the pub.
Some things are timeless, and there is great comfort in that.
A Special Place
It is not just the charm of the tradition that grabs you. The energy of people who have joined me in travelling from far and wide is quite remarkable.
The like-minded attitude of most in the bars and cafes is something very special, and it makes you feel as if you are meant to be there, at that very point in time.
The enthusiasm is infectious. Groups who have arrived for their yearly trip revel in the possibilities that lie ahead, fuelled by the memories they are yet to make, but undoubtedly will.
Even out of racing season, I have encountered this. Whilst staying there in February, a couple approached me in the hallway and asked if I was Oli Harris?
I checked quickly and confirmed I was indeed that man as they began to explain they had seen a tweet of mine regarding Newmarket, and had decided to visit that weekend as a result. Which was quite a surprise.
The magic of Newmarket for me is the delicate tapestry that makes it the place that it is. The fact that the high street could do with a bit more love, but is surrounded by palatial studs and magnificent stables.
The highly recommended museum at Palace House and the National stud, now run by my good friend Anna Kerr, are two things you simply must do if you have any interest in racing at all.
Palace House with Frankel immortalised at its heart
My memories of Newmarket are made up of incredible days at Dalham Hall, meetings at Bedford Lodge, listening to tales about the ghost of Fred Archer at Pegasus stables, long lunches at the Packhorse and keeping my hands in my pockets at the sales.
I look forward to creating many more memories in Newmarket, and I will add the best memory of all to my ever-growing collection this Christmas when I get married at the Jockey Club Rooms.
I couldn’t think of a better place to do it.
