THROUGH THE GOOD TIMES & THE BAD In light of the

By John Berry

To say that COVID-19 has made life challenging would be an understatement. In the bloodstock world, though, we can’t feel too sorry for ourselves because, while we have found many things problematic, we certainly aren’t alone (or the worst affected) in that regard.

Necessity has always been the mother of invention. A classic example came about when COVID-19 reared its ugly head just as the Inglis Easter Yearling Sale was approaching—which prompted the innovation of a sale without horses present. The misgivings which many must have felt were, of course, swept away by the strength of trade: over the two days (7th and 8th April) turnover topped $72 million at an average in excess of $300,000.

The Inglis Riverside Complex was eerily silent as the COVID-19 pandemic gripped the world ahead of the Easter Yearling Sale, but as it has done throughout history, the bloodstock industry adapted and triumphed

The buoyancy at that ground-breaking sale set the tone for the bloodstock world’s response to the crisis.

“And that’s something we as a company and as a team are extremely proud of,’’ Inglis Managing Director Mark Webster said.

“To implement the world’s first virtual yearling sale— and not only that, but to do it for our flagship event, the Easter Sale—was extremely satisfying, particularly considering the level of uncertainty, not just for our clients, but for the world generally, was unprecedented in a modern context.

What has followed has proved to be merely the latest example of the resilience of the racing and breeding communities. Our sport has survived world wars and financial crashes in the past, and it can and will continue to cope with whatever fate throws at it.

The Second World War presented the most taxing times that the racing world has ever known. No country was unaffected, but few were under as much pressure as Great Britain, which was effectively under siege once the Nazis had taken over continental Europe. As shortages of both food and fuel became ever more extreme, pressure was on racing to draw stumps. The words of Labour MP Emmanuel Shinwell in the House of Commons on 26th June 1941 summed up the feelings of many on the subject of race-meetings still taking place during a time of national deprivation: “The government is flying in the face of decent public opinion. It is desirable to allow these insane and unseemly spectacles to continue?”

Happily, the counter-view, that bloodstock is a major contributor to national prosperity and that a cessation of racing would be harmful to the economy, held sway—just as it has done in 2020, when racing and breeding have been allowed to continue while so many other parts of society have been brought to a standstill.

The sentiments of Lord Derby, whose many high-class home-bred Thoroughbreds were highlighted by Hyperion, the most influential stallion in the world at the time, summed up the never-say-die spirit which kept the sport on its feet during those dark days: “Though England may be in ruins, Hyperion will never leave these shores.”

Leaving instead were dozens of Hyperion’s sons, the vastly reduced racing programme in Britain leading to the availability for export of many horses who would otherwise have been retained domestically (and in the process helping to ensure that the sport did indeed live up to its claims to be a major positive contributor to the nation’s balance of payments). Exporting bloodstock was hazardous as every ship which left England was a potential target for German U-boats, but even so dozens of Hyperion’s sons were exported during and immediately after the war. Not all made it, of course, with Camperdown (en route to Argentina) and Hippius (travelling to Brazil) both drowning in 1941 when the ships carrying them were torpedoed.

The hugely influential Helios made it through to Melbourne in 1940, although his arrival was unexpected as the earlier ship carrying the letter sent to inform Ted Underwood of Warlaby Stud that Helios had been bought on his behalf and would soon be on his way had been sunk. After a promising racing career in Melbourne had been cut short by injury, Helios retired to Warlaby Stud in 1943, which year also saw Neptune starting his stud career in New Zealand. Two years later two other great imported Hyperion stallions started out: High Peak in Australia and Ruthless in New Zealand.

The Hyperion horses exported to the USA during the hostilities included Alibhai, who would surely have remained in Britain under normal circumstances but who, because of the changed circumstances, was sold as a yearling in 1939 by his breeder Prince Aly Khan to Louis B. Mayer, the head of MGM studios who reportedly offered Lord Derby a blank cheque for Hyperion. Alibhai never raced (going lame after a trial in which he broke Santa Anita’s record for a mile) but became one of the United States’ most influential sires, as also were the Hyperion horses Heliopolis (imported in 1940) and Khaled (imported in 1947).

Over and above spawning a golden age in international bloodstock, the war also led to a phenomenal boom in racecourse attendances. All around the world, racecourses enjoyed massive crowds in the years following the armistice. Racing had provided a ray of sunshine to many lives during a time when joy was generally hard to find; as peace returned, the sport experienced a period of popularity almost unimaginable by modern standards. Let’s hope that COVID-19 has a similar post-script!

Whichever way one looks at racing history, the message is strong that the show will go on, whatever the obstacles placed in our path. The response to the Great Depression which followed the Wall Street Crash of September 1929 was similar. Racing (in tandem with cricket) weathered that storm well. Sport provided a much-needed boost to Australian morale, most obviously thanks to the national heroes Phar Lap and Donald Bradman. As Paul Kelly observes in his song ‘Bradman’, “They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn / And in the hour of greatest slaughter the great avenger is being born”.

Inglis’ quick-thinking in responding to the changing circumstances by re-jigging the Easter Sale was perfectly timed to set the tone of what was to follow. Overall, one can’t help seeing a parallel in a story told by the great cricket writer Neville Cardus as the sun set on the last cricket match at Lord’s of the summer of 1939 and war clouds gathered over Europe. He was approached by an old man, “one of the game’s ripest preserves”, who observed, “I won’t be here to see the next match that takes place at Lord’s, but Lord’s will be here and there will be a next match, and lots of them.”