Robin Oakley

The turf | 12 April 2017

The past 60 years of the sport offer a cornucopia of jaw-dropping anecdotes

issue 15 April 2017

Every Grand National reminds me of a hero of my youth: Beltrán Alfonso Osorio y Díez de Rivera, the 18th Duke of Alburquerque, a Spanish amateur rider who became obsessed with the race but whose only entry in the record books is for breaking more bones in competing in the National than anybody else. I have spent much of the past year working with Edward Gillespie — managing director of Cheltenham for 32 years and the impresario supreme of its springtime Festival — on a book recording the highlights of jump racing over the past 60 years. It was Edward who unearthed an Alburquerque story I had not heard. In 1974, having just recovered from a broken leg, the Iron Duke smashed his collarbone and rode at Aintree in a plaster cast. At the Canal Turn second time around, he cannoned into leading professional Ron Barry who inquired abruptly, ‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’ The Iron Duke’s reply was a classic: ‘My dear chap, I have no idea.

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