No horse has evoked the level of passion or interest that Arkle has. Howdid he manage to capture our hearts and imagination? In the first of a series on Ireland's love affair with horses, Eileen Battersby looks at Arkle's enduring legacy, as Cheltenham starts next week.
On an April night, 45 years ago next month, a 13-year-old mare was due to foal. All went as expected; the foal came quickly in the early hours and was soon sucking. It was an ordinary equine birth. But the bay colt, bred by Mary Baker on the family farm in Co Dublin, and foaled at Ballymacoll Stud, Dunboyne, Co Meath, was unique. He was to prove incredibly fortunate, if ultimately, in true heroic tradition, tragic. That foal, lucky enough in life to have one loving and wealthy owner, one inspired trainer and one subtle master jockey, was Arkle - a supreme athlete, a hero, a beloved national institution and now a legend.
There have been many great horses, before him and since, and several, such as Red Rum or Desert Orchid, could also claim that defining quality of personality that made Arkle so special. Yet none has been able to quite match the exploits, the emotional draw or more interestingly, the alluring fallibility that compounded Arkle's appeal. His jumping was less than perfect, but even his blunders - from which he almost invariably recovered - only added to the magic. Such was his dominance, the racing authorities in Ireland and England had to intervene and change the handicapping rules. Arkle often had to give away up to 35 lbs in weight against top quality horses - yet still he won.
For Ireland, the birthplace of steeplechasing in 1752, there could be no greater treasure than to produce a 'chaser like him. As the Cheltenham Festival begins on Tuesday, thousands will arrive at this most famous of National Hunt venues for what is steeplechasing's Olympics. It is also an Irish invasion. Many pilgrims will stop amid the crowds and the noise, to pay their respects to the statue of Arkle and perhaps even pat his bronze effigy out of sentiment, or maybe for luck - probably both. It's a powerful image, a king surveying his kingdom, and Arkle was that.
His clashes with Mill House united the nation. It was a rivalry that went beyond sport and even the superb horsemanship of their respective riders, Pat Taaffe and Willie Robinson. Race-goers worshipped Arkle. Everyone did.
Even Irish people with no interest in racing hailed him and followed his exploits. The mention of his name still evokes smiles and tears. In the beginning, he was Ireland's young pretender. Having won the 1963 Broadway Chase (now the Sun Alliance Chase)he took on England's established champion, Mill House, then holder of the Cheltenham Gold Cup. Mill House won the first clash at Newbury, but from then on it was Arkle who was to be acknowledged as the horse that broke Mill House's heart.
In time, Arkle as in all great love stories, would also break Ireland's heart, but the grief would be seen as a fitting price for having enjoyed his greatness.
Part of his genius is that many who revere him never actually saw him race. His last performance was on St Stephen's Day, 1966, at Kempton Park in the King George VI Gold Cup. Yet generations, it seems, know him from black-and-white footage of his great races, among the finest sporting moments of the 20th century. In common with another magnificent athlete, the British middle distance runner Sebastian Coe, the former double Olympic 1,500 metres champion, Arkle possessed a fifth gear that set him apart from his peers.
The gelding's career, which included three successive Cheltenham Gold Cups and 27 wins from 35 starts (including three on the flat), ended abruptly.
There was no poignant decline. Injury, the cruellest judgment on an athlete, not only stopped Arkle in his prime, it may have killed him. It's typical of this horse among horses that the injury was sustained during a race he not only finished, he almost won. Even now, when watching the tremendous exploits of another Irish lord of Cheltenham, Istabraq, it does no disservice to the three times Cheltenham Champion Hurdle winner to suggest that it is the ghost of Arkle who most obviously shadows his performances. J.P. McManus's beautiful and exuberant Aidan O'Brien-trained battler may well attempt a fourth Champion Hurdle next week.
Arkle possessed immense presence. Photographs and footage capture his relaxed demeanour, intelligent glance and regal bearing. But Arkle was also kind, a superstar gentle and trustworthy enough for a child to sit on his back. He could almost give interviews. A full-time secretary was required to answer the fan mail that arrived for "Arkle, Ireland" from all over the world.
Still, how did a horse capture a nation's heart and appear to personify its very soul, its humanity? And continue to do so more than 30 years after his death? That's simple. Arkle was a horse, a handsome, noble horse and a steeplechaser in a country proud of its National Hunt tradition. While so much about Ireland has changed; some for better, much for worse, nothing, neither a complicated history of colonialisation and dispossession, nor the love of music, nor even a formidable international literary reputation can match Ireland's enduring love of horses.
Arkle still stands alone. Yet there remains sufficient Irish affection to spare for other special horses such as Danoli, winner of 17 races including the Sun Alliance Novice Hurdle, and now in retirement at the National Stud in Co Kildare. Admittedly, never having had to be subjected to a big weight, the lovable if brittle Istabraq has clearly established himself as a crowd favourite. Ted Walsh-trained, Papillon, winner of the 2000 Grand National, consolidated the public's regard for him when he fell last year, yet was remounted to finish fourth of only four finishers. He will again contest the Aintree marathon, the Grand National, on April 6th. Before that, Istabraq, Florida Pearl, Commanche Court and others go to Cheltenham as Irish gladiators.
The horse as hero, as myth, as symbol, as sentimental attachment, as leisure pursuit, as worker, as athlete, as big business, as precision breeding industry - represents an essential element of the Irish psyche. People see horses as earners, but there are still many who simply love them. Throughout Ireland there are families with a Connemara mare in foal,individuals with a good hunter or a reliable cob; non-riding punters with a part-share in race horses, and small yard owners with a couple of brood mares and big time trainers whose careers began with one good horse. And then there are the wealthy who view horses as a lucrative sideline.
Not all horses possess the grace of the thoroughbred, but in all shapes and sizes, they are, from child's pet to champion, irresistible. Physical perfection appears to be almost standard among racers, the parade ring before any race is a veritable equine beauty contest. Vulnerable and volatile, horses are beautiful animals, some are heartbreakingly spectacular. Anyone who has attended the yearling sales as an interested observer rather than potential buyer will know the feeling, that sensation of looking at glorious creatures, as yet unsoured by life. Some are at ease, others nervous, a few appear arrogant as they are led around the ring. Untested by competition, their worth at this stage is speculated upon mainly on the basis of bloodline.
These young horses are on a work-of-art conveyor belt, a few are masterpieces born of nature and calculated genetic engineering. A tiny percentage will triumph, most will fail. It's probably when witnessing the equine sales that even the non-materialistic see the attraction of being wealthy enough to afford several gorgeous horses, and to fantasise about the pleasure of watching these same horses wander through pastures. The reality is very different.
Aspiring champions are sent to be trained elsewhere, their training and stall behaviour as strictly monitored as their diets. Many owners may see their possessions/investments only on race day. Race horses are not pets, they are racing machines. Horse people are the least sentimental of individuals and racing is a tough, high-risk business - as is working with horses on any level. The media help create the myths and the public dream on. As recently as last month's Hennessy Cognac Gold Cup race-goers at Leopardstown were joined by the non-racing public lured by the prospect of seeing the Willie Mullins trained Florida Pearl take his fourth consecutive win. The heavy going, however, proved too much for the giant bay gelding.
After the race, all attention shifted to the winner, his stable companion, Alexander Banquet, also trained by Mullins.
Standing several feet away and largely unnoticed, a mud-splattered Florida Pearl blew long and hard, disappointment in his eyes as he seemed to be reviewing a race that didn't so much go badly wrong as never really started for him due to the wrong tactics as well as the mud. The media had a new star and the hype moved on. Meanwhile, the trainers and their teams worry about the expensive horses in their care and the owners who must be kept happy.
Arkle's story was always rather intimate. Bred by Mary Baker, he was broken as a three-year-old by her daughter Alison. Day one of that process saw our hero tangling himself in the tack. But from then on, he did everything that was expected of him. This included being sent in August 1960 to the sales.
He was bought by Anne, Duchess of Westminster. She asked the advice of Tom Dreaper who had trained the dam, Bright Cherry. The sire was Archive. Arkle's pedigree was not lofty, and at 1,150 guineas, he was not expensive. But the duchess liked what she saw, named him after a mountain on her Scottish estate and asked Dreaper, a man with a Midas touch, to train him. The shaping of a legend had begun.
Home was the stables in Ashbourne, Co Meath where Dreaper, on relatively little land, performed a magic based largely on pioneering repetition interval training; a four-furlongs canter up a field with a trot back recovery and so on. Dreaper also believed in the effectiveness of regular schooling. In his first two outings, bumpers at Mullingar and Leopardstown in December 1961, Arkle was placed. Nothing miraculous, yet his work rider, Paddy Woods, was soon able to confirm that in training the horse kept getting "better and better". And he was. By January 1962, ridden by magician Pat Taaffe (1930-1992), already a Grand National winning jockey, Arkle was asserting himself. From this point until the end of his career, he would win 22 of his 26 steeplechases, as well as four hurdle races and one on the flat - for a career total of 27 victories.
His steeplechase debut, a win, took place, fittingly, at Cheltenham. Arkle went on to secure seven consecutive victories. Then he had his first encounter with Mill House. It was the Hennessy Gold Cup in 1963 at Newbury. Earlier that year Mill House, English-owned and trained, though bred in Co Kildare, had won the Cheltenham Gold Cup, while Arkle took the Broadway Chase at the same meeting. The Hennessy, run on a dank November day, was billed as a showdown - it proved otherwise. Arkle slipped without actually falling. But the race for him was lost and Mill House stormed away to the satisfaction of the English crowd. It was the first of four clashes between the two, and the only time Mill House got the better of Arkle.
The next year, 1964, Arkle returned to Cheltenham and took the Gold Cup. He defeated Mill House by five lengths, prompting commentator Peter O'Sullevan to declare: "This is the champion; this is the best we've seen." The gelding had grown up. He followed the Gold Cup win with the Irish Grand National at Fairyhouse. The Hennessy Gold Cup beckoned in December, Arkle again defeated Mill House. The stage was set for a Cheltenham Gold Cup rematch in 1965. With only four starters, Mill House and Arkle made it a private duel, with Arkle again running away with it, this time by 20 lengths. Carrying 12 stone 7 lbs, he later made the running in the Whitbread Gold Cup at Sandown, reducing the race to an exhibition display. His third Cheltenham Gold Cup victory on St Patrick's Day 1966 included some drama.
Well in the lead of a field minus Mill House, he crashed into a fence with a circuit to go. Somehow he and Taaffe regained balance and Arkle went on to win by 30 lengths. Later that year, in November, he raced Mill House for the last time in the Gallaher Gold Cup at Sandown. Mill House (this time with David Nicholson aboard) was going well and then Arkle simply changed gear.
Later that month, the Hennessy provided an instance of Arkle being beaten more by a clever jockey than a better horse. Stan Mellor hung in behind on Stalbridge Colonist and surprised Arkle, sneaking past just before the post. Stalbridge Colonist was a good horse and champion-jockey Mellor rode more than 1,000 winners in his career. But, as Arkle was conceding 35 lbs, the handicapper also played a part. Team Arkle was unbothered. The King George VI at Kempton was Arkle's next outing, it was also his last.
Victory appeared certain, but on the run-in a challenge emerged. Dormant defied his name to win by a length. There was an explanation. Arkle was lame. During the race he had broken his pedal bone. How he finished at all, and placed second, is a mystery. After six weeks in plaster, the great champion was flown home to Ireland. Hopes of recovery were high. But it never happened.
In October, 1968, the duchess announced his retirement. As a friendly, easy horse to handle, Arkle seemed capable of adjusting to a quiet life. Instead, however, a crippling arthritis set in. In May, 1970, Taaffe came to visit his old partner and was shocked by the horse's distressed state. The duchess was contacted. She travelled to Ireland and wept as Arkle was unable to come to her. He could no longer stand up.
Nothing could be done for him. Arkle was put to sleep on May 31st, 1970. He was only 13 years old.
Many tears were shed then and since for this wonderful hero. Five years after his death, the duchess had his body exhumed and donated it to the National Stud. His reassembled skeleton is on permanent display in a small museum there. It seems a shame he does not have a more dignified resting place, such as that of three-times Grand National winner Red Rum's pretty grave beside the finish line at Aintree.
Interviewed years later, the Duchess remembered being asked as Arkle paraded at the Horse of the Year Show to select a tune to accompany his guest appearance. It was easy. There'll Never Be Another You. How right she was.
April 13th: The Horse in History