Typical” remarked my other half “I tell the boss that you are too ill to do the school run and you get your photo
plastered all over the papers. Not much of an excuse for me leaving work early is it? There were 6,000 people up at
Haldon today, and you have to get involved with the press.”
If you have kids, especially young ones, you’ll soon realise that it’s the school calendar that rules your life, not the
racing one. So it was with me, and so it was that I’d never seen any of Best Mate’s incredible victories at Cheltenham.
Never even seen him in the flesh at any racecourse. When he came to Exeter in 2004 to run in the William Hill
Steeplechase, I was determined to put that record straight.
School term time, weekday racing and children don’t mix though, even if you do only live five miles from the track.
Invariable you should be at the school gates just when you want to be waiting at the entrance to the winners enclosure
to greet the victor of the day’s big race. When the World Cup was on, the school altered the timetable to enable parents
to see the England matches but my requests for Cheltenham or Royal Ascot to be elevated to such status drew looks of
astonishment and blank incomprehension.
To see Best Mate I needed to enlist the help of another career with parental responsibility to do the school run
(step in hubby), and draw up a water tight plan to amuse and contain the pre-school child that had to accompany me to
the racecourse. Three hours on top of Haldon Hill on a freezing November afternoon with a two year old, and not a
swing or slide in sight is a sobering prospect. I speak from experience, having already taken my son racing there in a
previous year. It poured with rain all afternoon and as my son insisted on pulling his socks and shoes off and lobbing
them over the side of the pram, he was wet, cold and howling by the time of the fourth race. A disgruntled punter
standing next to us tore up his betting slip, peered in at him and said “you’re not the only one who feels like that today
mate.” This time though things couldn’t have been more different. Even the weather was behaving itself. Bright, cold
and clear. Older children were dropped at school and the youngest taken to baby gym for a final piece of work to ensure
that she wouldn’t ‘boil over’ during the parade. Timmy Murphy couldn’t have timed his run to the racecourse more
perfectly. Get there too early and toddler would be bored and fractious before Best Mate stepped out of the saddling
boxes. Arrive too late and risk missing the action. I reached the course just after they had shut the car park in the centre
so was directed to park right next to the main entrance beside the rails.
Daughter slept through the first race and was awake, alert and happy just before Best Mate was due to appear. I managed
to squeeze my way to the paddock and push the buggy right up to the fence, unable to believe that things were going so
smoothly. The scene was surreal. The paddock looked like a section of supporters had mistaken it for Villa Park with the
claret and blue of ‘Matey’s’ colours splashed everywhere, while the collective attention of thousands of race goers was
focused on one particular horse. Opposite me a press photographer was crouching right down on the ground as he snapped
away furiously. He caught my eye as it looked a little odd, almost as if he were worshipping Best Mate, but if he was then
he probably wasn’t much different to many others there that day..
The William Hill Steeplechase itself couldn’t have been more thrilling if Dick Francis had scripted it. Regular jockey
Jim Culloty was unable to ride due to injury so Timmy Murphy had to take the reins. He quickly settled Best Mate in
second place behind Sir Rembrandt with Seebald third and Frenchman’s Creek bringing up the rear. The order remained
unchanged until Sir Rembrandt blundered at an open ditch. Timmy Murphy took advantage of this and quickened up the
pace but Best Mate was unable to dominate Seebald. The pair took the final fence side by side so it was down to a gruelling
battle to the line. A hundred yards from the post Tom Scudamore and Seebald were in front, but with amazing tenacity
Matey clawed his way back to a heart stopping short head photo finish
I was by the rails absorbing this exceptional atmosphere when I became aware of a smartly dressed man looking me up
and down. He enquired whether the child in the buggy was mine. Before I could reply he explained that he was from the
press and his photographer had taken some photos of Best Mate with my daughter in the background. Would it be alright
to publish them, and could he have some details? I was so relieved that he wasn’t an official ready to move me on for
breaking some health and safety rule with regard to prams, children and racecourses that I abandoned all caution and gave
him the information he needed.
Presumably my husband’s boss is not a racing man for no comment was made on the very artistic ground level
photograph of my daughter watching Best Mate which later appeared in the papers. The photographer that I had noticed
earlier was not in fact on his knees worshipping Best Mate he was just working hard to get that unusual shot. One which
provided me with a very personal memento of an exceptional and emotional day’s racing.
In 2005 Best Mate came to Exeter Racecourse again but on that occasion I was unable to get to the track to see him. It
was, of course, to be his last race and a day which turned out to be so very different from the glorious one I had experienced.
When I heard the shocking news of his death I was for once truly thankful that on that day I had been waiting at the
school gates not the winners enclosure.
