Jamie Lynch Weekend Preview: A rider fit for a fit Coneygree

Two recent, reasoned quotes, as twin columns for this one column:

‘It had to happen in this race, on this day, last year.’ – Nicky Henderson

‘If Richard Johnson is available he would be the obvious choice to ride.’ – Mark Bradstock

Have you heard of the Cheltenham Chase? You know it, you just might not know you know it, not in this age where sponsorship matters more than the history, heroes and heart of our sport. But in this case, unlike most, the good people at Shloer – the grown-up soft drink – aren’t trampling tradition, because the race’s registered name of the Cheltenham Chase is so vague and vapid anyway.

So here’s the thing. Shloer can still gatecrash it, but that party, and that race, from now on, needs to be Sprinter Sacre’s, in name and honour. The Sprinter Sacre Chase.

No committee has to look into it, no task force has to task or force it, no song and dance has to be made, but it’s the only thing to do, the right thing to do, and the right time to do it, in the aftermath of the aftershock.

If Sprinter Sacre’s retirement had been announced on the same day last year it would have been a story and not an event, a mechanical mention of his one-time mechanical magic, but the rut made him mortal and the renaissance made him immortal. And the first turn of the revolution, which snowballed in effect, in emotion and in euphoria through the season, was the tide-turning turnaround in the 2015 Shloer, a grown-up soft drink in the last chance saloon, the reason, as Henderson said, it had to happen in this race, on this day, last year.

For a lasting legacy, for the legend, what has to happen in that race, on that day, next year is a new title, where the honouree can be present, and the past can be the present. The Cheltenham Chase means nothing. The Sprinter Sacre Chase means everything.

I never think we do enough to weave historical heroes and heroines - human and equine - into the modern fabric of our sport, not when there’s so simple a fix as a race-name recognition, and not when there are over 10,000 races in Britain a year, and counting.

Take Fulke Walwyn, for example, a giant of training whose only credit is an add-on to an existing title at Cheltenham, a race that, in despatches, is still referred to just as the Kim Muir, not the Fulke Walwyn Kim Muir Challenge Cup as is its full name. A man who trained forty Festival winners, including four Gold Cups and two Champion Hurdles, perhaps deserves rather more than that.

Of his myriad of memorable chasers, Mill House and Mandarin are the most famous and fabled, and both showcased the extra dimension of Walwyn’s training talent by reaching the top not once but twice, Sprinter Sacresque, after serious injuries.

Different generation, but the same regeneration is the challenge ahead of Coneygree, from his position between mountains; not a position of strength, but not necessarily a position of weakness, considering the former position of his trainer, as deputy to the master who wrote the rules on winning at this particular game.

Rising from stable lad to assistant trainer, Mark Bradstock spent a decade with Fulke Walwyn, and the time-travelling trick of the training trade was a secret safely passed on, the art of hitting the bullseye with a long-range, long-absent missile. Just look at Coneygree.

Imagine Paul Nicholls and Donald McCain sinking a few in a blues bar somewhere, chatting over some past disappointments. ‘I remember when we paid £160,000 for Dannanceys Hill after his point win,’ says McCain, ‘and we couldn’t see him beat in a bumper, but something hammered us. And another time I thought we had a good’un going to Uttoxeter with Corrin Wood and he was smashed by 20 lengths.’

‘I’ve rarely been more gutted than when Saphir du Rheu buckled under the pressure and unseated on his chasing debut,’ replied Nicholls, ‘and I more or less lost Southfield Theatre for a full season when he got steamrollered on his return.’

‘Bloody Coneygree,’ said Nicholls. ‘Bloody Coneygree,’ repeated McCain. ‘Yeah, bloody Coneygree,’ chipped in vet Stuart Wallis.

The common denominator wasn’t just Coneygree but a reappearing Coneygree, who’s mustard when he’s fresh, successful on his debut every season, at the expense of the aforementioned, once off a 22-month absence. A fierce first-time record is a nod to the past, to the Walwyn school, as well as a big pointer to Saturday, when the argument that he’ll be conceding race-fitness to Cue Card and co may be more theoretical than practical, knowing what we do about him and his family.

The 22-month absence prior to Newbury was supposed to be 21, but the vet at Plumpton, Stuart Wallis, controversially put paid to that, enforcing the withdrawal of Coneygree after he was deemed to be lame at the start, incurring the wrath of the Bradstocks, who could be forgiven for having vetaphobia.

‘She’s got really ropey old legs and the vets told us to retire her when she was only four, and now she’s nine and doing this.’

The speaker was Sara Bradstock, the date was New Year’s Day 2001, after a good handicap chase at Exeter, and the subject was Plaid Maid, the dam of Coneygree.

He’s his mother’s son alright, as that day, following a long absence, Plaid Maid was ready and raring to go, attacking the race and the fences in a strikingly same style to which Coneygree has become synonymous. No DNA test required for him, nor for Carruthers, who bulldozed his way to a Hennessy…from the front…after a break.

Coneygree harmonizes with the Bradstock family, and the Bradstocks harmonize with the Coneygree family. And Nico de Boinville has proved to be the perfect partner for Coneygree, but he’s out injured, which brings us back to the second of the introductory quotes:

‘If Richard Johnson is available he would be the obvious choice to ride.’

Obvious because he has ridden – and won on – Coneygree once before, and obvious because he’s Richard Johnson. But is it so obvious from the Timeform data that can be generated from the EPFs (Early Position Figures) to calculate potentially the best ally for front runners?

Yes, it is obvious.

Johnson is, in fact, the very best of the available riders for doing exactly what a front runner like Conygree needs. At the time of writing, though, Johnson only gets up if Menorah steps down, and Aidan Coleman is the jockey with one leg across Coneygree as things stand.

But here’s the interesting thing: Coleman too is in the top five riders for delivering the specified goods on predicted pacesetters by Timeform’s reckoning. In fact, Coleman and Johnson are two of just four jockeys ahead of Nico de Boinville when an issue, and a pace, needs forcing, the others being Henry Brooke and Tom Scudamore.

Have a look at the graph below, with de Boinville, Johnson and Coleman plotted against the average jockey (grey area), and see for yourself how those three are ahead of the pack when it comes to racing ahead of the pack.

If Mark Bradstock wanted a like-for-like replacement for Nico de Boinville, he couldn’t have got two better riders on side than Coleman and Johnson for this particular pacing job, to take charge, to enable Coneygree to take charge.

Of course, who’s on top of Coneygree is less relevant than what’s within Coneygree. What’s behind Coneygree is a Gold Cup win, in his novice season, an outstanding achievement, but even the high altitude of that rating is still beneath Cue Card’s flight path of last season, though it’s been a more turbulent take off this time around for him.

If it is indeed a case of Father Time slow-dancing with Mother Nature for Cue Card, then we’ll find out on Saturday, or, more to the point, Coneygree will find it out on Saturday. Coneygree is the unofficial hide-and-seek champion, as he seeks to dominate, leaving no place to hide.

The Betfair Chase is three miles, with two sensations, to crown one horse. The key to the Betfair Chase is three letters, with two senses, around one horse. Fit. Will Coneygree be fit, and will a different rider be the right fit? His history, intertwined with racing’s history, suggests Coneygree will be fighting fit, and the Timeform data proposes that his jockey – whether it’s Coleman or Johnson – is a formidable fit for a formidable front-running force.

Maybe one day, in the future, there’ll be the Coneygree Chase. For my money, the Betfair Chase on Saturday will be the Coneygree Chase. A vain chase for the rest.

Click here to read Nic Doggett's look at Paddy Brennan's career ahead of his ride on Cue Card in Saturday's Betfair Chase.