The racecourse

The day of the race arrived – the same day as my birthday. As a present for myself I’d stolen a pair of new jeans from one of the big supermarkets and some fancy gel for my hair. I thought I looked cool. I probably looked like what I was, just a lost, hungry, angry teenager. I was excited; it was going to be a great day once the boring bit was over. I didn’t realise how great the day was going to be.

It was one of those picture book spring days – blue skies and woolly clouds. There was a coach waiting at Liverpool train station to take us to the racecourse. ‘Us’ was me, the prize winner, and the poor boring people who actually wanted to go to the Aintree Experience. I was going to act cool, I said to myself. Show all these people I wasn’t impressed, that I was just there for the free meal.

When we got there I was the last person to get off the coach. I was looking as bored as I felt. Then … the atmosphere hit me full in the face. It was like an electric shock. There was a feeling of excitement everywhere. Aintree was so alive. The whole racecourse looked as if it was celebrating an enormous birthday party. And it was so green. The grass was so green I wanted to drink it. ‘Come on, Brighton,’ I thought, ‘cool it man, chill!’ But I couldn’t.

On the far side I could see an enormous black hedge in the distance. ‘Why’s that hedge in the middle of the race course?’

I asked the tour guide. ‘Seems a stupid place to put a great big hedge.’ ‘Are you pulling my leg?’ replied the tour guide.

‘No, I’m not. I just thought that it’s a silly place to put a hedge – or is the race behind that hedge?’

‘That is a fence, boy,’ he said.

‘Yes, I can see it’s a fence. Well, a hedge and a fence.’ Did this man think I was so stupid? ‘I just want to know why it’s on a race course,’ I said.

‘My goodness, you really don’t understand, do you?’ ‘Understand? Understand what?’ I asked.

‘That,’ he said, speaking very slowly, ‘is a jump. The horses have to jump those “hedges” if they want to win the race.

There are thirty “hedges” in the Grand National.’ said the tour guide. ‘But it’s enormous!’ I said.

‘Yes it is, isn’t it,’ he smiled, nastily I thought, ‘but it’s woken you up.’

He turned away and I followed him. In the next two hours I found out a lot about the Grand National. I found out that it was four and half miles long, that’s just over seven kilometres. I found out about the riders, called jockeys, and I found out about the courage you need to ride racehorses. I also found out that I wanted to watch this race. I wasn’t bored anymore.

Lunch was good – steak and chips. The tour guide wouldn’t give me the beer I asked for. I told him I was

eighteen and he said ‘and pigs can fly’ but he said it with a smile. So I drank lemonade and somehow I didn’t mind. I still hadn’t seen the horses. The tour guide, whose name I found out was Dan, said the first race was at two o’clock. At two o’clock the first horses were going to come into the parade ring. The parade ring is where the riders get up on the horses and ride them out for the race. There are three races before the Grand National.

It took me ten minutes to eat my steak and chips and it was only ten past one.

‘Can’t we see the horses?’ I asked Dan. ‘We’ve seen everything else.’

Dan looked at me. ‘These horses are very valuable. You can’t go and see them. They’re not animals in a zoo. They mean money, big money and people are always careful about money. But these people also love these horses. Horses mean life to the people who look after them, too. I’m not sure if you know what that means.’ He looked at me carefully. I wondered what he was thinking.

I don’t know why I felt ashamed. I looked away. Dan wasn’t finished. ‘But perhaps you need to see that to understand it. I’ve got a friend who … well never mind … come on.’ He took me out to the stables at the back of the race course.

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