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‘He was a hero, but he also indulged in

many slapstick comedy routines’

S EA PIGEON’S Champion Hurdle would have been more than enough but his was not the only remarkable race that day in 1981. The superlative

achievement among that supporting card, and it would not have been categorised as a supporting role on almost any other day, was in the Stayers’ Hurdle and it came from Derring Rose, whose performance is virtually on its own in my experience at the festival for its overwhelming authority.

In a narrow lead turning for home, John Francome moved on him a dozen strides before the final flight and gave him a slap down the shoulder five strides before it. That was the only time he raised his whip and, having gathered momentum to jump in a lead of three lengths, Derring Rose passed the post in front by 30.

Sea Pigeon’s sprint from the last hurdle provided one of the most famous finishes in the sport, yet Derring Rose’s took only a fraction of a second longer, despite his having raced over an extra mile and one furlong.

Judged solely on that win, he was a paragon. The true situation, however, was nothing like that simple or that positive. Derring Rose was the hero of the 1981 Stayers’ but he also indulged in a series of slapstick comedy routines with his unwitting riders, became notorious throughout Lambourn and on the racecourse, and he was the scourge as well as the delight of his owners and a legendary trainer.

Bought from France, Derring Rose had a successful season for Alan Jarvis in 1979-80, albeit with a style of running that owed nothing to the preferences of his jockey. There were indications of something more untoward when he was returned to France for their Champion Hurdle. Derring Rose was unplaced and, as owner Peter Savill describes, “as soon as he got back to France the horse was just a nervous wreck”.

Jarvis elaborates: “He went to bite one of the French handlers. It was unbelievable. The minute he landed

Derring Rose (left) takes the last from Celtic Isle en route to victory in the 1981 Stayers’ Hurdle; (right) details of his career while standing as a stallion

BOOK EXTRACTIn his new book At The Festival – Racing to Glory at Cheltenham in March, the Racing Post’s Richard Austen relives history being made at the festival from 1981 to 1991. Below is an abridged version of the chapter on the 1981 Waterford Crystal Stayers’ Hurdle, won by Derring Rose

‘He was more adept at walking backwards than forwards’

and got in the horsebox and heard the French voice he changed completely.”

That race turned out to be Derring Rose’s last for Jarvis and he was sent to Uplands Stables in Lambourn to be trained by Fred Winter. At first there was a honeymoon period. Then, “once he got used to where he was heading and what he was going to do, that was when he used to just plant himself”, remembers Brian Delaney, Winter’s head lad.

And how long did it take before he got to the gallops? “As long as he wanted,” states Francome. “That was the bottom line. He’d go when he wanted and not before.”

Even when he did make his way to the gallops, Derring Rose declined to do so in a straightforward manner. “He was more adept at walking backwards than forwards,” declares Francome. “I think he just thought it was a bit of a crack, and it wasn’t as if he’d be walking backwards slowly – he’d be walking back with the others, at the same pace.”

Richard Cullen was the lad entrusted with Derring Rose and it was a considerable responsibility. When the horse was not moving backwards or forwards, the Winter team used to leave them behind and, in Delaney’s words, “Richard would just do what he could with him. Some days he probably didn’t do anything.”

For all its novelty and in the case of Derring Rose his great proficiency at it, an aptitude for going in reverse is not greatly admired or encouraged in a racehorse. There had to be nervous questions about whether this nonconformist outlook would also manifest itself when it came for him to race again and he gave his answer at Ascot in November when pulling himself up after the fifth.

Blinkered on his next five starts, Derring Rose impressed in the Long Walk and the Rendlesham (for the second year) but in between those wins was a sequence of seconds in which Derring Rose’s idiosyncracies included hanging fire in the finish.

For the 1981 Stayers’ victory, the blinkers were absent. “When I realised it was past declaration time I promise you my heart missed about 20 beats,” confesses assistant trainer Oliver Sherwood. “I had to go down and tell Fred Winter that I’d forgotten to declare the blinkers and I won’t say to you what Mr Winter said back.”

When that race was won, Sherwood was a relieved man and Derring Rose was the undisputed king of the staying hurdlers. His 1982 target would be the Champion.

The first step was the Fighting Fifth at Newcastle and, with Francome elsewhere, the pleasure of riding Derring Rose went to Sherwood. Savill flew in from the USA on the morning of the race and was picked up from Heathrow by the leading amateur before they caught a small plane up to Newcastle. Derring Rose jumped three hurdles then refused to go any further. Sherwood and Savill flew south again and Savill flew out of Heathrow on the Sunday morning.

Sherwood’s soul-searching about whether Francome would have made all that travelling more fruitful was put to the test at Ascot six days later, with blinkers reinstalled as well, and Derring Rose did get further than at Newcastle, but it was only as far as the fifth.

There now followed a race which would nowadays be described as causing ‘in-running betting carnage’. “Getting to the start, starting, throughout the race and even getting him back in – he could down tools at

any time,” says Francome, and in the Corinium Hurdle at Cheltenham Derring Rose went through almost his full repertoire. But he won by three lengths from Champion Hurdle favourite Heighlin, who received 8lb.

This has been described as Francome’s greatest ride, but he disagrees: “Oh God no. Good rides are when horses don’t have the ability. He had all the ability in the world.” Francome’s efforts were extensive and successful, but his mount was fully in charge of the decision-making.

W INTER had once told Savill that Derring Rose showed ability that was as good as any horse he had

trained. In that second season at Uplands, however, deteriorating behaviour on the racecourse mirrored what was happening at home and Winter’s reports took on a less cheerful hue. Savill relates: “I remember him telling me that Derring Rose had destroyed the rose bushes in his garden. I don’t know how he got in there but they were Fred’s pride and joy and one day he trampled the whole lot.” Delaney describes this incident as: “He jumped and kicked and galloped through whatever he could.”

In his autobiography Born Lucky, Francome wrote: “Every now and again the governor falls in love with one particular horse that has usually got lots of ability but which is mulish and he doesn’t take kindly to anybody even

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suggesting that the animal might be ungenuine.”

One can only speculate whether Derring Rose was one of those ‘mulish’ horses to whom the trainer developed an attachment. At some point during that winter of 1981-82, however, Winter decided that Derring Rose should be given a change of scenery. To try to sweeten his mind he was dispatched to Francome’s brother-in-law Derek Ricketts, master of the Bicester Hunt and the former world champion showjumper.

Overall, the horse apparently enjoyed his new routine but his time with the hunt was not without incident. One day, walking alongside a canal, Derring Rose spooked at something and would not walk on. He started going backwards. Towards the canal. On board was a young lad who worked for Ricketts and he began to feel some alarm. His boss reassured him that there was no way the horse would reverse all the way into the canal. This, perhaps, was where Ricketts had not been fully briefed. The lad was fished out and Derring Rose had to swim about 100 yards before a place was found for him to return to dry land.

In his widespread experience with horses, has Ricketts ever seen another behave that way? “No, never,” he says. “I couldn’t believe it when he did it. I couldn’t believe it when he did it the first time but I was even more astonished when he did it twice.”

On returning to the same spot on the canal path, Derring Rose did exactly

the same again. Second time round he had a longer swim and ended up in a lock. For anyone patiently waiting their turn on the other side, enjoying their John Constable-like scene of tranquillity in the British countryside, it must have been a surprise when the lock gates opened and out swam Derring Rose, attended by a group of anxious hunt followers.

M ORE than 30 years on, the exact chronology of this interlude between races is not clear, but when Derring Rose

appeared in February 1982 bidding for his third win in the Rendlesham, he finished well beaten. The Champion Hurdle was next. Five days before the race Winter informed the press: “He worked for a mile this morning, then pulled himself up, which he is always likely to do.”

It was decided to remove the headgear again. Summing up the horse’s attitude to blinkers, Francome now says, “I think he thought they were just for keeping the rain off.” As Savill relates, connections racked their brains to come up with something else that might just inspire him: “Johnny Francome, I and Fred Winter got together and we decided that because he loved hunting, we needed him to have the feeling that he was hunting again. So what we would do was get a huntsman and send him over to the woods over by the hurdle where he’d virtually pulled himself up [in the Corinium], and as they came round the

‘We had everything perfect and it was just a matter of getting him over that hurdle’

bend he’d blow his hunting horn and give him the feeling he was still out hunting.

“So I remember meeting this fella in the weighing room, and he was dressed as a regular bloke with a long coat on and a hunting horn buried inside it.

“Johnny Francome and I gave him his instructions, pointed out where we wanted him to sneak round and hide behind the trees, so when he saw them coming round in the Champion Hurdle he would start blowing his horn.”

Readers will probably know that Derring Rose does not figure on the list of Champion Hurdle winners. After rounding that turn the visual effect was that he was reprising his favourite party trick from Uplands and going backwards. He dropped back to a detached last before the next hurdle and refused to go over it.

“It was heavy ground as well, so we had everything perfect and it was just a matter of getting him over that hurdle,” laments Savill. “We weren’t really entirely surprised but we were disappointed and when Johnny

Francome finally came back after the race and managed to get the horse back into the paddock, I said to him ‘Oh Johnny, what a shame. Did that huntsman blow his horn?’ and he replied ‘Aye, he blew his horn but for all the good it’s done he might as well have blown it up his arse.’ I’ll never forget that. It delivered a bit of humour at a glum time.”

The stewards called for Winter and inquired into the running of Derring Rose, to which the trainer replied that the horse would not run again. As the officialese puts it, ‘no further action was taken’. Derring Rose’s racing career was over.

Derring Rose was one of the game’s most extraordinary characters. He was the horse with a phobia of French speakers, a reluctance to go to the gallops, a preference for walking backwards, refusals to race, hanging fire when he did race, innovative ideas on equine swimming and a distaste for horticulture, but in 1981 he still produced one of the most dominant championship wins in Cheltenham Festival history.

At The Festival – Racing to Glory at Cheltenham in March by Richard Austen is published by SportsBooks Ltd. It can be purchased from www.atthefestivalbook.com, and through Racing Post Books on racingpost.com