What’s in a name? Plenty in the world of racing
Every aspect of how racehorses come by their monikers is explained in a new book, writes Marcus Armytage
The cleverest are subtle word plays combining the names of a horse’s sire and dam
Books about horse racing are an industry within an industry. ’Tis the season.
Each year the vast majority of the dozens of one-offs (as opposed to annuals) will be published between now and mid-october to capitalise on the Christmas market.
The aim of a racing author is to write a book which reaches beyond the parish boundary and appeals to a wider public. George Baker’s autobiography, Taking My Time, might do that because it is as much about recovering from a major head trauma as the life of a Flat jockey and head injuries are a hot topic across all sports.
But the one which I have no doubt will clear the boundary ropes is Fifty Shades of Hay – the extraordinary world of racehorse names (£12.99 Racing Post Books) and I am staggeringly jealous of the idea.
It is by retired racing journalist David Ashforth and in Fifty Shades he tackles every aspect of naming racehorses from the clever, the tongue twisters to keep a commentator on his toes, the ones which have slipped past the British Horseracing Authority’s naming police to how famous horses came by their particular names.
Arkle, for example, was named after a mountain on Anne, Duchess of Westminster’s Scottish estate, as indeed was Foinavon, who she sold for being too slow before he won the infamous 1967 Grand National.
It was from another mountain (and less famous racehorse) on her estate, Ben Stack, that the late, racing-mad Labour politician Robin Cook sent a final, poignant text before he died to his son, Chris, saying he could “see Arkle and Foinavon through the mist – wish you were here”.
Coolmore has reserved the names of great artists, composers, brains, poets, places and world leaders, giving the greatest names to what are perceived their best two-year-olds. Hence Galileo, Mozart, Rock of Gibraltar, St Nicholas Abbey, Camelot, Australia, Gleneagles and Churchill. But, John Magnier admits: “We’ve had an awful lot of bad American presidents.”
The chapter that most people will skip to first is “Sexcetera”, where the likes of Mary Hinge, Sheila Blige, Finmental, Hoof Hearted, Norfolk In Chance and Noble Locks earn immortality beyond their racing ability.
Language is one way of hoodwinking the authorities. In 1815 Sir William Maxwell, who had lost an arm at the Battle of Corunna in 1809, won the St Leger with the colt he had named, with some justification, Filho da Puta – Portuguese for son of a whore.
Then, of course, there was Wear The Fox Hat, who got as far as the Folkestone racecourse stables for his debut run before it was spotted by an eagle-eyed official. After some hurried paperwork he ran that afternoon as “Noname”.
The cleverest are subtle word plays taking the names of a horse’s sire (father) and dam (mother) and combining them. My only stab at this was with a two-year-old in which I owned a tail-hair. By Mount Nelson out of Fairy Queen, we called him Hello Sailor, but he never ran remotely well enough for us to have to explain the origins of his name.
The late multimillionaire owner of Mill Reef, Paul Mellon, was so fed up in old age of relatives asking what they might expect when he finally hopped the twig that he came up with the name Wait For The Will for a colt by Seeking The Gold out of You’d Be Surprised.
Others which tickle the fancy are Geespot (Pursuit of Love – My Discovery), Step On Degas (Superpower – Vivid Impression), Sizzling Melody (Song – Mrs Bacon), Regency Brighton (Royal Palace – Gay City) and one which might appeal to cricketers, The Gatting Ball (Hard Spun – Art of Deception). My favourite, though, is That’s Your Lot (Auction Ring – Guillotina).