If Peter O'Sullevan had been at the charge of the Light Brigade, the story goes, he would have given name, rank and number of each rider - plus, of course, the name of each horse.Few commentators are as attentive to detail, fewer still able to convey accurately the sheer excitement of the last furlong of a great race as 20 horses hurtle in a blur of colour towards the finishing post. That rare talent was marked last night at a glittering West End bash to celebrate the life of the Voice of Racing, who retires at the end of the month, aged 80, and after the best part of 50 years at the microphone.Picture the scene as O'Sullevan, dinner suited-suited and immaculate as ever, stood on stage, microphone to his lips, calling home two of racing's most famous characters in one of the season's most bizarre and entertaining races.J.P. McManus, the Irish owner and mega-rich punter, sat on one side of the dinner table with one eye on his watch anxious not to miss his night plane to the United States. Peter Savill, the stylish but only multi-rich owner, sat on the other.The prize for victory? The final race card of O'Sullevan's commentating career, packed with his usual copious notes and subtle observations, colour-coded for ease of reading in the heat of battle.No matter that the commentary won't take place until November 29th and O'Sullevan's farewell at the Hennessy Cognac Gold Cup at Newbury.But then they were off, the auction starting slowly but gradually gaining momentum, urged by the less well-off diners."No reserves tonight, three I'm bid on my left," said O'Sullevan, in that wonderfully mellifluous voice, resonant and attractive yet at the same time urgent and compelling.The rhythm flowed - "Five on my right, do I hear six?" - just as it does on the racecourse where the tone, quickening and slowing with the pounding of hooves and the nod of the horses, has become so familiar and so trusted by television viewers."Nine-and-a-half, was that a bid?" inquired O'Sullevan. "Remember, the card will be signed by all the jockeys in the race - and it will be framed."Why that fact should clinch it for men who could easily afford to hang Picassos and Van Goghs on their walls was unclear, but suddenly he pace quickened like a field coming round Tattenham Corner."Ten on my right, J.P> at 11, 12 I'm bid, do I have 13?"Moments later O'Sullevan's last commentary card was pledged to McManus for £13,000."Now you can go and catch your plane," said O'Sullevan with typical timing and humour in a voice which had reverted to its usual confidential whisper.It was the high point of a night which also saw the final Arc de Triomphe card go for £4,600 and a print of Lester Piggott and Geoff Lewis for £3,400.At the end it had raised more than £28,000 for his five equine charities. And, like all the parties and celebrations in O'Sullevan's honour over the next few weeks, they queued up to pay tribute to an irreplaceable part of BBC sport.Cyril Mitchell, who trained O'Sullevan's horse Be Friendly, flew in from Spain. His favourite memory of the great man? "The way he paid his bills."Sir Paul Fox, former controller of the BBC, revealed their one spat came when the BBC preferred to show a Muhammad Ali fight rather than Mill Reef's Derby. "But", Fox said, "he has the golden voice and is going out on top of his form."In these days of ultra-competitive, instant gratification television, where hype and presentation so often seem more important than authority and substance. O'Sullevan's easy charm and unsurpassed knowledge will be greatly missed."There are three things that happen when you reach my age," he said, after receiving a commemorative trophy. "First you lose your memory. Then . . .," the briefest of pauses, "I can't remember the other ones."An old joke, perhaps, but TV viewers should savour the next few weeks: the likes of O'Sullevan are unlikely to be heard again.