Holy starter’s orders! Horsing around is here again

How does it feel to be back at the races? Let’s find out…

Who doesn’t love cheering on a winning horse past the post? More people than ever seem to go mad for a day at the races, so of all the spectator sports that became off limits in 2020, racing behind closed doors was one of the biggest shames of all.

Those days became (hopefully) a thing of the past earlier this year, and for us, Market Rasen was to be the venue for a welcome return and a banishing of withdrawal symptoms. My last outing had been at Wetherby‘s November meeting, but the criminally underrated Lincolnshire track would do nicely. It was never going to make the ITV schedule, but so what?

But you’ve got to get there first, and what better way to get back in the saddle, so to speak, than a coach trip. The collective buzz was tangible as I hopped aboard, and this was 90 minutes before we’d even reached the course! The on-board facilities were slightly more cramped than a horsebox, to put it mildly, but no-one cared: we were on our way; the driver knew where he was going (kind of); songs were being sung; what could go wrong?

The answer to that silliest of questions is….. absolutely nothing! There, that’s shocked you. And so my feet were finally on the turf. Now I’d be lying if I said it felt like I’d never been away from horseracing, but it sure did feel very familiar, very quickly. Once the first drink had been purchased – which never takes long, as the Market Rasen bars are literally a stone’s throw from the winning post – it was time to pick the winners from the donkeys. There were seven races scheduled in total; how’s your luck?

I decided the plan of attack for the day would be to just bet on second favourites; after all, law of averages n’ all that. On My Command was first up with this dubious honour. Now, I always have a tendancy to fear the worst when a horse is out in front at the beginning. To ‘make all’ – that is to lead from start to finish – isn’t all that commonplace, but to my surprise On My Command did just that, and quite comfortably as well. It’s not always bad to be proven wrong.

“Well that’s it, at least you’ve had one winner,” I thought to myself, assuming that would be it. No sir. It’s normally ill-advised to change your mind, but for some reason I decided to ditch the second-favourite-ploy for the next instalment. When Maninsane took the honours in a hard-fought contest, my crazy, last-minute chage of heart was vindicated. The winning run surely couldn’t continue, or could it?

No, was the answer, as Earlofthecotswolds finished a gallant third. Thankfully, next-up was a three-horse race, in which Stolen Silver came out on top. Okay, you’ll never get great odds in these sort of contests, but it did mean I was back in the metaphorical winners enclosure. One more victorious moment was to come in the 15.55, as Rafferty romped home. I, like many others that day, fancied it purely because of that classic song Baker Street, by the late Gerry Rafferty. Cue much vocalising of that saxophone riff.

Silent voices and deadpan expressions betrayed those on whom fortune hadn’t smiled, and so back to the coach as the trip home beckoned. It’s hard to think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than horsing around, especially when you back four winners, beating my previous record by three. Never before had so many been under starters orders for so long, but it was well worth the wait.