What follows is an attempt to explain to those of you who couldn’t give a seasonal fig for horse racing one of the reasons that those of us that do love it, do.
It’s because of the story: the true story. In fact, a horse race is so true I want to attempt to separate it almost entirely from the world of story. It’s not easy and here is why. They say there are only seven types of story out there, literature being based on one, or another of them. And what we are inclined to do is (sometimes interchangeably) impose one of these seven narratives onto our own muddled existences. We do this backwards, to understand the past, and we do it forwards, to better enjoy, or ‘plan’ the future. However, the fact of the matter is that we only know the now, this present moment, and in this moment there is no particular story to be grabbed on to, unless we want to take down a reel from the shelf of life and roll it both backwards and forwards to make the present, the now, cohese with the past and the future that exists only in our minds.
And as complicated as that sounds, that is pretty much what we do. For example, many of us will have played the showreel labelled ‘Christmas’ on a loop for the last few days. We tend to think in narratives and we have accompanying reels for just about every mundane, and otherwise, scenario. And we do it so very well that the storytelling about ourselves, our lives and others becomes an automatic way of being and before we know it those stories are not just super-imposed onto the current context of our lives, they become our lives. Our minds become a dark space waiting for a reel to flicker into life. The flickering stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, and others, start to run our thinking. Our thoughts fit the narrative from the shelf…
I am not against stories, but I am cautious of the way we let might let sloppy ones run riot in our own heads, unexamined and rarely called to account. The power of a narrative tool, used judiciously is a beautiful thing, but the reality is that we are awash with cheap, emotive and polemic narratives that do us all a disservice. Our unquestioning acceptance of our own and consequently other people’s stories about our lives, their lives: Life… leads us into an unthinking loop and when we tire of those narratives, we reach for the alternative but equally manufactured ones via tv remote, or a book, or the computer.
It is in this state of narrative-induced inertia that we en masse sponge up the stories of advertisers who infer to us that we’ll be more cool if we buy an iWhatever, or we’ll capture love if we buy and wear a certain perfume. We take those stories, and we say, ‘Aha! That’s a rubbish story that is. Of course I am not going to meet a film star if I buy a coffee machine. What do they think I am, stupid?’ And we forget about it… But do we? Actually we don’t. Of course we forget much of the detail, perhaps even the actual name of the perfume or coffee machine. But our memory has a remarkable tenacity and clings onto the basic narrative like a piece of driftwood. Our brains remember the gist of it, minus some detail and part of the reason we do this is because it makes the complication of life more simple. It makes the downright dog’s dinner of human existence cohese into a more palatable selection of amuse-bouches. It also makes us buy products whose advertising narratives best fit our own…
It’s not at all our fault and it partially explains why memory is so unreliable. See that showreel labelled Christmas? Well it’s not a re-run every time you play it on the Dave channel of your mind. It’s more a story board for the future made up of the basic gist of the past, missing quite a lot of forensic detail. We tend to retrieve only an abstract impression of the past, especially the commonplace, and even that shifts with every separate retrieval.
So why hang onto the horse race, which could itself be described in narrative form? Because amongst the smoke and mirrors of so many individually nuanced stories about life, crossing the line in front is a one true fact. A fact of the matter. It stands outside my context, and yours. It is what it is. And in the seconds of victory, that can be replayed at will in detail, unlike our own plentiful faulty memories, it ties us to a present moment like the very few other facts of existence that are uniquely glorious in their own immediate context: like the birth of a baby, or a gin and tonic.
Horse racing is a factual account that sits in its own context and demonstrates the power of now. Of course when Kauto Star won his fifth King George, in his sixth run in the same race, we ran the story backwards in our minds to enjoy the possible forwards of it all that much more if he won. But nothing was certain; he might have lost. For me, the power of a great horse race like yesterday’s story…
Kauto Star’s Fifth King George the Sixth
…lies in this one thing, the thing you can be fairly sure of amongst all the hyperbole, in all our story-ridden intepretations of life – the horse wasn’t counting. We can choose to overlay the day with a fantastic and triumphant narrative, if we like, but the main protaganist, the horse, will not.
We can learn a lot from that.
I am going to have a rest today from Ascot. Of course it is all about the Gold Cup and Yeats’s attempt to lift an historic fourth victory over the mammoth 2 and half mile trip. We all know the stories about his life and times and that of Geordieland who, having been called all manner of things canine in the past, has recently overcome his apparent hesitancy in overtaking the last rival in the home stretch – perhaps he thought he was playing football… Then we have Patkai, the new pretender to the throne, but when all is said and done, none of them can match Yeats’s record over the trip and with less miles on the clock than some of his 8yo rivals I can’t see why he shouldn’t return to his imperious best this afternoon.
The market for the colour of the Queen’s hat has been formed around green @ 6/4, probably in a nod to the Irish writer’s bid. Can we rely on her Maj to deliver at such short odds or will she turn herself over and turn up in a blue one? Do I care? Not much. Except that, apart from the GC, it looks one of the easier puzzles on offer this afternoon. I am not a great one for big handicaps so I wish all of you playing those today the best of luck in running and the draw! On the matter of betting I read a joke this week that asked:
“Do the Royal Family bet at Ascot?”
“Only on the colour of the Queen’s hat and they claim that back on expenses…”
Tonight we have the inaugural meeting of Ffos Las, the new Welsh racecourse, sold out in advance! I am sure it will last longer than the ill-fated Great Leighs, having borrowed only £4 million for the whole endeavour from the Levy Board over 7 years interest-free, to build the main stand. Good luck in the first to AP McCoy on Ffos Las Diamond (owned by the gent who owns the track) and then again to AP on the heavy-topped Danehill Willy who started life as a sprinter(ish) winning at the July Meeting a few years ago and now making his debut over fences for the Welsh trainer Evan Williams. The Welsh training contigent are well represented tonight and you cannot help but hope that the likes of Williams, Alison Thorpe and Peter Bowen have a cracking night. There is also an Irish raider worth looking out for from Michael Hourigan’s yard – Turf War in the 6.50.
The last two days have seen me hitting the bar in betting terms. I’ve made a profit, but I’ve missed the big payouts. On Day 1 I had Paco Boy, Scenic Blast, Judgethemoment (because of the early money) and Delegator! Delegator’s neck second cost me about £150 in the Unlucky 15. Then yesterday I did this:
Sorry the quality is not so clear. I think I’ve earned a rest! Back tomorrow…