Stan’s Pride and the one that got away

By Ian Carnaby

Schweppes finally decided that enough was enough when their big handicap hurdle at Newbury - a race which had given them quite magnificent publicity - fell victim to the weather in 1985 and 1986. Driving past the racecourse on Tuesday night it struck me that 2009 was more than likely to go the same way, although things can improve quite quickly.

My favourite memories of the Schweppes include triple Champion Hurdler Persian War winning under 11st 13lb in 1968, an exceptional effort, and Jamesmead prevailing twenty years later, by which time the Tote had taken over sponsorship. Jamesmead was trained by David Elsworth but had a strong Mick Channon connection because the former Southampton footballer bred him from his mare Cathy Jane, who won for him on the flat when trained by Bill Wightman. Bill, who is still going strong in his nineties, also trained Jamesmead’s sire Import, who won both the Stewards’ Cup and Wokingham, as well as finishing third in the July Cup.

But the year I shall always remember is 1985 and it has particular relevance at a time when the BBC’s commitment to racing is the subject of much debate. In those days there was a Saturday morning programme on Radio 4 called Sport On 4, which was all about features as opposed to hard news. It was often produced by the indefatigable Emily McMahon, who was responsible for bringing more big names to BBC Radio Sport - Jimmy Connors, Vitas Gerulaitis, Sugar Ray Leonard, Seb Coe, Keith Miller to name but a few - than anyone else.

On the face of it, a feature about the ‘Dove’ family, trained by Gordon Price at Leominster, was unlikely to cut much ice. But there were quite a few aspects to the story that would appeal to a breakfast-time audience as opposed to a Saturday afternoon one. For a start, there was the fact that the foundation mare, Grey Dove, was buried on Gordon’s farm. And I knew that the Doves had hardly ever produced a colt between them - they were all fillies. On top of that, rather a lot of them won races, most famously Flakey Dove in the Champion Hurdle, though we had to wait another nine years for that. My big problem was that stable-companion Stan’s Pride, due to run in the Schweppes later that Saturday, was not related to them. But the race was the thing. You could even write the script so that Stan’s Pride, as an ‘outsider’ in the yard, was the story. She’d be running later on (it helped that I fancied her something rotten), then you could build in the remarkable history of the Doves.

So the Friday before, with rain and snow all around the country, I drove from London to Leominster with a tape recorder and we sat in front of Gordon’s roaring log fire and he told the story in his lovely, Welsh borders accent and I knew we had something. It helped that he thought Stan’s Pride would win the Schweppes. The only problem was the inspection planned for the following morning, though no more rain was forecast.

I drove back to London, we put the piece together and I returned to Thatcham, near Newbury, where we lived in those days. At 7am on Saturday I awoke to complete silence; no wind or rain, nothing to suggest adverse weather conditions of any sort. It was only when I opened the curtains and saw the fairly impressive carpet of snow that my heart sank. It must have fallen in no more than four hours, because I hadn’t gone to bed before 2am. The inspection was a formality, like the call from the BBC and mine to Gordon. Everyone liked the piece, no one thought you could run it without the Stan’s Pride angle. Everyone was right. Not only that, but there was a substitute item all ready to go. You can’t fault professionalism like that.

The Tote paid £3.50 for a place on a 100-1 shot...

About six weeks later, I was working at Cheltenham on Champion Hurdle day. I thought it a fairly modest event by championship standards, though See You Then would have something to say about that. The more I looked at Stan’s Pride, unraced since the abandonment, the more I thought she’d make the frame. A few other people must have agreed, because she closed in from 150 to 1 to 100 to 1 just before the off.

Running down the hill, she was in fifth or sixth but with something left. Not as much as See You Then, who bolted in by seven lengths at 16 to 1, but enough to come between tiring horses ion the run-in and take third. I was so pleased for Gordon and his family that I didn’t think too much about the place dividend until someone told me it was £3.50. This was so obviously a mistake that I smiled knowingly and waited for the correction. Needless to say, I’d still be waiting now. She was indeed a 5 to 2 shot for a place on the Tote. Still, it’s only money.

I went into the unsaddling enclosure and congratulated Gordon. I remember the next bit as though it were yesterday. “What sort of certainty do you suppose she was in the Schweppes?” he smiled. Well, a pretty decent sort, I’d say. But I was thrilled for him and the mare and it’s not true that no one remembers who comes second (or indeed third), because I think about those snowy days, and a piece I was rather proud of in the end, all these years later.

Anyway, my brief history of the Doves never made the airwaves and, by the time Flakey Dove did her stuff in 1994, I was no longer at the BBC and Sport On 4 had given way to something else. But Gordon Price is still in fine form, though his son Richard has held the licence these many years, and the Doves keep winning. I’m happy with that.