The day I held Red Rum
IN the late 1970s, Red Rum was steeplechaser of the year at HOYS, which was held at Wembley then.
The grand old champion was to head the parade at the end of the final evening, accompanied by his trainer, Ginger McCain.
As a journalist, I was down beside the collecting ring, smartly dressed, interviewing the owners, trainers and riders of the year’s leading hunters and hacks and driving teams and ponies et al. Ginger suddenly realised he had left something vital in the lorry, parked some distance away behind the arena. He pushed Red Rum’s reins into my hand and told me to hold him. So I stood on one side of the collecting ring’s barricade, teetering in high heels and a tight skirt, while my equine hero chomped at the bit on the other side.
He knew the importance of the occasion and could hear Dorian Williams announcing his name and the trumpeters heralding his appearance. I looked frantically for Ginger’s return and when I saw him in the distance, I stumbled through the arena sand as the huge curtains opened. In the nick of time, I passed the reins to the sprinting Ginger and the pair trotted proudly into the spotlight.
An Olympic relay team could not have made a cleaner hand-over!