Tucker’s bloopers made him a legend with Beeb
His aside, ‘Why don’t they start, the silly buggers?’, was broadcast to 10,000 racegoers
Death of the lovable BBC commentator leaves a big gap in the equestrian world, writes Marcus Armytage
The county show circuit will begin shortly and whether it is a Shetland Pony Grand National, an international show-jumping class, a cattle championship or a collie seemingly on speed in the dog agility, it will be all the poorer without the reassuring, enthusiastic commentary of Mike Tucker.
From Badminton to Burghley, Tucker was the soundtrack of rural summer, Christmases at Olympia and six Olympics for BBC TV – and while it is hard to put your finger on what distinguishes a good commentator from a great one, he combined imparting knowledge with a knack of sounding like your friend.
Tucker, who died at the end of March inspecting his cattle, aged 73, was much more than a commentator and farmer, though.
He groomed for Richard Meade at the Mexico Olympics in 1968, rode round Badminton 12 times, finishing second on a horse he bred, was a reserve for the British Olympic three-day eventing team and designed the Burghley cross-country course.
He was on eventing’s safety committee, chairman at Olympia, was a local steward at Cheltenham and Bath races and was a guiding light to many riders and fellow commentators, including Alistair Bruce-ball in Athens and Jonathan Agnew in Rio, when they were sent by the BBC to cover Olympic equestrianism, a sport that neither man would consider his forte.
Since television was invented, the BBC has had just three equestrian commentators – four if you include Nick Luck but, about to do his first Badminton, we cannot consider him to have his feet under the table yet.
The first was Dorian Williams. He was joined and then succeeded by Raymond Brooks-ward and, from 1992 when Brooks-ward passed away until he retired from the BBC at last year’s Badminton, it was Tucker.
He met Brooks-ward in Mexico and asked for advice on how he might become a commentator. The following Easter Monday, in 1969, Brooks-ward had double booked himself, so he put Tucker in for the job at the Lockinge point-topoint near Wantage, a course that attracts small fields but huge crowds. The rookie commentator was advised to learn the colours of the horses “sitting on the bog”.
The first race consisted of two runners, one had black and red colours while the other had red and black, and the novice Tucker succeeded in getting the horses the wrong way round.
Then, as the eight runners circled endlessly before the second race, he turned to a mate and said: “Why don’t they hurry up and start – the silly buggers?” Not realising his microphone was still on, his aside was broadcast to 10,000 racegoers.
It may not have been the most auspicious of starts and, of course, thereafter Tucker found his niche in equestrian events where the horses went one at a time. But he was encouraged because they invited him back the following year, and he was up and running.
There were ‘Tuckerisms’, certain words he found difficult to pronounce correctly. ‘Reconnaissance’ always got the better of him, so much so that whenever the Household Cavalry were involved, he got around it by describing their role in the context of the British Army as carrying out “advance scouting missions”.
Horse names occasionally caught him out, too. He called ‘Copernicus,’ an eventer named after the 16th-century astronomer, “Copper knickers” until someone whispered in his ear.
Another literal pronunciation of a horse named after the Mexican breed of dog, “Chi-huahua”, also caused much hilarity.
Like so many of our nation’s favourite commentators; not perfect but wonderful.