If the Melbourne Cup is “the race that stops a nation”, the Derby is fast becoming the poor relation that passes one by. City of Troy’s troubled start in the 2,000 Guineas last month meant all eyes at Epsom Downs were trained on the stall occupied by the Aidan O’Brien-trained colt at the start of the 245th Derby but, outside an industry bubble that seems arrogantly complacent about dwindling public interest in what goes on within its interior, it is difficult to imagine much attention being paid to this impressive victory under Ryan Moore by the British population at large.
On this occasion, it was another O’Brien horse, Los Angeles, who played up at the start before finishing third behind his stablemate and Ambiente Friendly. In other stall-related shenanigans, the Richard Hannon-trained Voyage unceremoniously ejected his pilot as the starting gates opened under cloudy grey skies.
The Derby is the UK’s most historic horse race but it has not been its most popular one for many years. Once held in the highest of regard, it is now a tailed off also-ran in the popularity stakes behind the Grand National, Cheltenham Festival and Royal Ascot. More than ever before, a race synonymous with legendary names such as Sir Ivor, Nijinsky and Shergar seems to be trading on past glories. It is now greeted annually by a shoulder-shrug of almost total indifference from a general public whose support the Jockey Club desperately needs to stop taking for granted if this famous old race is to avoid fading further from the national consciousness.
That is assuming the general public even knew it was on. On Friday evening, an unscientific survey conducted in this reporter’s local south London pub revealed only one of eight regulars of different ages and occupations knew it was taking place the following day. Tellingly, the middle-aged man in question was unable to name a single participant, but did hazard a predictable if incorrect guess of “Frankie Dettori?”
After the departure of the charismatic household name from the UK scene, it seems any sense of fealty the ordinary man or woman on the street might have had for a race he last won nine years ago seems to have gone with him. For all their success on the track, when it comes to charisma, O’Brien and Moore, his regular jockey, would be the first to admit they are not exactly box office. In his post-race debrief, the winning jockey could scarcely have sounded less enthused.
Which is not to say that an afternoon on Epsom Downs is not still a fun, if poorly publicised day out for others. While the adjacent car parks were packed full of coaches that had ferried racegoers from far and wide, mid-morning trains from central London to Tattenham Corner were pulling up practically empty.
Organisers blamed last year’s poor attendance, when the crowd was down 33% year-on-year, on a Derby day rail strike, but while industrial action undeniably contributed to that particularly poor turn-out, the total absence of anything resembling hustle and bustle on Victoria station’s platform No 14 on Saturday morning suggested a paucity of interest, not trains, was more of an issue 12 months ago.
“Last year our attendance was impacted by a number of factors beyond our control, including train strikes, the FA Cup final being held on the same afternoon and the ongoing cost of living crisis which continues to have a major influence on consumer behaviour,” said a spokesman for Epsom Downs racecourse. “We’re pleased with our advance ticket sales for Derby Day this year, with numbers more than 10% up on 2023.”
Curiously, at the Cheltenham Festival, where attendances are also tumbling at an alarming rate, the entire locale seems invested in the celebratory vibe, with grifters and gougers of every stripe and shade all eagerly vying for the custom of out-of-towners. Locals in Epsom seem comparatively oblivious to the significantly shorter two-day equine jamboree going on in their back garden, even though an arcane bylaw means admission to the centre of the course and its many temporary amenities remains completely free.
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The Jockey Club have acknowledged this lack of engagement between their racecourse and the local community, but an attempt to address it prompted little more than derision.
This year’s draw was staged behind a table laden with bookie-branded cupcakes outside a local Wetherspoons and had about it the whiff of an extremely low-rent church fete. That was before the ping-pong balls with numbers handwritten on them in black marker were drawn from two old-fashioned tombolas that might have looked modern when the race was conceived 244 years ago.
Memo to the organisers: nobody cares about the Derby draw except the connections of whichever horse gets the No 11 coffin box from which no winner has emerged. If you must televise it in a bid to drum up public interest, at least lend the proceedings some much-needed pizzazz.
