Phar Lap, Secretariat, and Red Rum, three legendary horses who defied the odds, lifted spirits and galloped into history. Nostalgia adds sparkle to memory, shining brighter with every retelling...
The Breezer - the joyride for a curious mind: A weekly newsletter from Steve Winduss at the Batting the Breeze podcast. Spend a few minutes with me discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week. Add to that updates relating to the podcast, a touch of humour and a dash of "lots more".30th March 2025.
Happy Sunday! When news of the death of the great boxer George Foreman broke last week, I felt a twinge of sadness. I was never a big boxing fan, so it was an unexpected reaction. Nostalgia and the idea of two people pummelling each other into submission are unlikely companions. George won a gold medal at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. He then claimed his first heavyweight boxing title a few years later in 1973 when he beat Joe Frazier in Kingston, Jamaica. He hadn’t just won, but knocked Frazier to the floor six times in only two rounds before the referee stepped in to call off the bout. That might have been Foreman’s highlight career moment. However, he returned to boxing after ten years of retirement. To the boxing world’s surprise, Foreman regained the heavyweight title, defeating Michael Moorer to become the oldest heavyweight champion in history at the age of 45.
George Foreman, 1971.
Ironically, the moment Foreman lost his heavyweight title may have been the primary contributor to his lasting legacy as a ‘good guy’. He was fighting another much-loved sporting hero, Muhammad Ali. The Rumble in the Jungle was a great sporting memory from the 70s, which I touched on in Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Despite the brutality of their profession, both men exuded such warmth outside of the ring. They showed compassion, vulnerability at times and the ability to poke fun at themselves. The world is definitely poorer for not having both in it.
Of course, many other sporting heroes evoke similar feelings of nostalgia. Take my own sport, Rugby Union; as a young, impressionable and aspiring English rugby player, most of my heroes were, in fact, Welsh. In rugby terms, the Wales-England relationship is intense. But I loved JPR Williams, Phil Bennett, Gareth Edwards and a few others. Their personalities seemed to mask the fact that the Welsh kept hammering the English. Wherever you are in the world, these nostalgic icons will look different but evoke similar feelings. Perhaps Jackie Robinson in baseball, Leigh Matthews in Aussie rules footy, Magic Johnson in basketball, Wayne Gretzky in ice hockey? I’m only guessing, I’m sure you will have your own.
Wayne Gretsky, New York Rangers, late 1990s.
Nostalgic overtones are not necessarily confined to people. Think about horses, for example... I have no interest in horse racing, but I can’t help looking out for the big names that win the big races. My Australian father was a devoted horse racing aficionado; perhaps that’s where this habit comes from. In the late twenties and early thirties, Phar Lap was the celebrated racehorse of the day in Australia. The Great Depression had struck, and Phar Lap’s exploits lifted the mood whenever he appeared. The Thoroughbred was born in 1926 in New Zealand. As a one-year-old, he was bought for just under £175, a trifle compared with the more typical price for a champion at that stage of around £5,000. Little was expected from the young horse. In fact, the name Phar Lap was a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Thai word ‘fá lêp’ which means ‘sky flash’ or 'lightning'. But Phar Lap defied all expectations. In 1930, he won the Melbourne Cup, Australia’s most prestigious horse race - “the race that stops a nation”. Phar Lap actually won races on each of the meeting’s four days that year. In 1930 and 1931, he won all 14 races in which he competed.
Phar Lap, 1931.
The anniversary of Phar Lap’s death on 5 April 1932 falls this Saturday. He was only 5 years old and died in the arms of his devoted trainer, Bobby Woodcock. Phar Lap had mysteriously collapsed in California. Sabotage was suspected, but it wasn’t until 2006, 74 years later, that modern forensics proved he had died from arsenic poisoning... an occupational hazard amongst priceless Thoroughbreds, unfortunately. I have visited Phar Lap’s mounted hide at the Melbourne Museum, where it has been on display since 1933. In the true spirit of sharing, his skeleton is displayed at the Museum of New Zealand, while his heart is somewhere in Canberra.
Perhaps the greatest flat-racer of all time was born 55 years ago today, 30 March 1970. Secretariat was born in Caroline County, Virginia. He was a large, imposing Thoroughbred with muscular hindquarters built for power and speed. ‘Big Red’ emerged as an American national hero towards the end of the Vietnam War and as the Watergate scandal was playing out. Like Phar Lap forty years earlier, Secretariat provided a ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy period.
Out of Curiosity… Yesterday was National Vietnam War Veterans Day in the United States, marking the day the last US combat troops left Vietnam on 29 March 1973. In my conversation with Vietnam veteran Robin Bartlett, Vietnam War: The Trail, Robin explained to me…
If you wish to give special recognition to a Vietnam veteran, to recognise what we went through in our war, and the sacrifices that we made to secure American freedoms and American way of life, you say, "Welcome home”, and you watch the reaction. And the power of those two words to a Vietnam veteran and the meaning of those two words to a Vietnam veteran… very, very special. You will bring tears to our eyes and lumps to our throats by saying those words.
In the United States, the Triple Crown is the ultimate horse-racing prize. It is played out at the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes and finally, the Belmont Stakes. The Kentucky Derby is said to be ‘the most exciting two minutes in sport’. For the three-year-old Secretariat, 1973 would be his defining year. The previous winner of the Triple Crown was Citation back in 1948, and Secretariat was hotly tipped to be the next. And win he did - in style. In the Kentucky Derby, Secretariat ran faster in each quarter of the race. When he won the Belmont Stakes to secure the Triple Crown, he beat the runner up by an astonishing 31 lengths. Although four other horses have won the Triple Crown since, Secretariat still holds the fastest time for each of the three races. Big Red was euthanised in 1989 aged 19.
That’s what a 31-length lead looks like! Secretariat wins the Belmont Stakes and Triple Crown, 1973.
In the UK, we had our own hero. Red Rum was actually born in County Kilkenny, Ireland in 1965, but was brought to England as a yearling. Red Rum was a little different to my first two picks. He was a National Hunt horse. These horses jump fences, a practice that is not so popular outside Europe. National Hunt racing originates from the rural gentrified traditions of fox-hunting, hare coursing and similar, hence the name. While flat-race horses are the epitome of speed and grace with a touch of glamour, they usually peak between the ages of three and five. Jumping horses, on the other hand, are the endurance athletes. They jump fences and ditches, run for miles and compete well into their teens. For instance, the Grand National, the holy grail for National Hunt horses, is three and a half times the distance of the Kentucky Derby with 30 fences to jump along the way. The Kentucky Derby lasts about two minutes, while the National is rarely less than nine. You get the idea. The Grand National, run each year at Aintree, Liverpool, has long been considered the world’s most challenging steeplechase. The daunting fences have been gently lowered over the years but are still enormous by any standards. Becher’s Brook, the supreme challenge for steeplechasers, originally stood at 5 feet, with a 6-foot 9-inch drop the other side. Riders talk about ‘jumping off the edge of the world’. To compound the danger, Becher’s has to be jumped twice during the race. Imagine you are a horse approaching Becher’s that second time: you’ve run two-and-a-half miles and jumped 21 fences. Your legs are wobbling, and you’ve got a further one-and-a-half miles to go, if you survive the jump, that is. At least 14 horses have died at Becher’s Brook alone since the first race in 1839.
Becher’s Brook, 1890.
Out of Curiosity… Red Rum, Secretariat and Phar Lap were related. In fact, most Thoroughbreds are related. 95% of all Thoroughbreds around the world can trace their paternal lineage back to the stallion Eclipse, great-great-grandson of the Darley Arabian, born in Syria 325 years ago in 1700 and shipped to England a few years later.
Like Phar Lap, Red Rum was bought cheaply as a yearling for only £450. He nearly lived up to his diminutive price tag when he was diagnosed with pedal osteitis, a bone disease in horses which can lead to long-term lameness. However, into the picture stepped Ginger McCain, Red Rum’s renowned trainer. McCain introduced Red Rum to the beach at Southport for conditioning to protect his suspect hoof. The gamble paid off. The anniversary of Red Rum’s first Grand National win falls tomorrow, 31 March 1973. It was the day he transformed from also-ran to national hero. The climax of the race was spell-binding. I remember watching the valiant horse Crisp jump the last fence, 15 lengths ahead of Red Rum. With 500 yards left to run, surely he would win? But Crisp started to waiver, he was exhausted. Red Rum was strong and passed Crisp within yards of the finishing line. If you want to experience the agony and the ecstasy, take a look at this two-minute clip, Red Rum v Crisp. This week actually should be known as Red Rum Week as he won his second and third Grand Nationals on 30 March 1974 and 2 April 1977. For the record, his second win fell on Secretariat’s fourth birthday. 'Mr Aintree', as he became known, was 12 years old when he won his final Grand National in 1977 - the oldest horse within the last 50 years to win. Red Rum spent his years in retirement opening shopping centres, attending charity events and appearing on TV. He died at the age of 30 in 1995.
Red Rum, Aintree, 1976.
Out of Curiosity… On the day of Red Rum’s first Grand National win, Muhammad Ali suffered a broken jaw in his shock loss to Ken Norton. Two days earlier, the last US combat troops had withdrawn from Vietnam.
These sporting giants achieved extraordinary things. But they also had compelling life stories, distinctive personalities and captured the hearts of millions of people outside their own sporting bubbles. Perhaps we think of these heroes of yesteryear with rose-tinted spectacles. Our autobiographical memories have a tendency to strip away the bad bits over time and keep hold of the very best moments. In my podcast episode with Psychology professor Dr Andrew Dunn, Grounded by an Autobiographical Memory, he explained…
...the thing that’s different about autobiographic memory is that it can be really highly unreliable. So every time we recall a memory, a personal memory, an autobiographic memory, we’re drawing on memories about the world and our place in it and all the other things that we know about the world and ourselves. But the whole process of memory is active. We’re constantly encoding and retrieving and recalling and so as we recall something, we’re also forming new memories associated with the recalling of that. So, for example, as I’m recording this and I’m talking about this particular issue, I’m forming a newly constructed memory of that event… And so, as a consequence, autobiographic memory can be highly problematic and highly unreliable.
So each time we think about Red Rum, Secretariat or Phar Lap, the story grows a little grander, the memories a little fonder, ready to be placed back in our minds a little richer than before. But the stand-out performances both in terms of achievement and historical timing were definitely real. The record books prove it. Phar Lap had come from nowhere and performed heroically in a depression. Like Phar Lap, Secretariat had crammed extraordinary success into a short period during national uncertainty and gloom. Red Rum shouldn’t have been able to race at all, but became the greatest National Hunt horse of them all, the only horse to win the Grand National three times (and finish second twice, by the way). We all have a Golden Age in our heads, mine will be different to yours. While our heroes need not be restricted to sport, sport does provide a great distraction from the day-to-day business of living, so perhaps they seem more special. I don’t think we are ever too old to look to these past performers for inspiration. FOOTNOTE: This year’s Grand National, the 185th, runs this coming Saturday, 5 April.
Out of Curiosity… Secretariat is buried whole in Paris, Kentucky, a rare honour for a horse. As I mentioned earlier, Phar Lap wasn’t quite so lucky, on display in three locations. Red Rum is buried on the finishing line of the Grand National at Aintree. And for good measure, my father’s ashes are scattered at the starting line of the Epsom Derby, England’s version of the Belmont Stakes.
Dates with History
Today… John Stafford Smith was born 275 years ago today, 30 March 1750 in Gloucester, England. The son of the organist at Gloucester Cathedral, Smith started his musical journey as a choir boy. By the time he reached his twenties, he was growing a reputation as an organist and composer. The Anacreontic Society had been a popular gentleman’s club since the mid-1760s. Its purpose was to promote an interest in music. The Society would meet once a month, usually in pubs around London, most notably the Crown and Anchor in The Strand. Each meeting was usually prefaced by a concert performance. In 1791, Joseph Haydn performed as a special guest. In 1773, the Society asked Smith to compose an anthem. Thereafter, they performed The Anacreontic Song at the end of each meeting.
The Anacreontic Society sing the Anacreontic Song in the 1770s; by James Gillray, 1801.
Due to the Anacreontic Society's international reach, the song soon spread to the newly formed United States of America. Forty years later, Francis Scott Key, an American lawyer and poet, wrote Defence of Fort McHenry in 1814. He had observed an American flag still standing over the fort the morning after the Battle of Baltimore, part of the War of 1812 against the British. It compelled him to write about what he had seen. Key combined his words with the tune of the Anacreontic song to form a renamed piece, The Star-Spangled Banner. It would be a further 117 years before the Star-Spangled Banner would be officially adopted as the US national anthem, signed into law by President Herbert Hoover in 1931. The Anacreontic Society didn’t last too long. It closed down in 1792 after 'struggling with symptoms of internal decay'.
Wednesday… If you are blessed with an ability to charm, perhaps a master in the art of romantic seduction, you may at some stage have been referred to as “a bit of a Casanova”. Giacomo Girolamo Casanova was born 300 years ago this Wednesday,2 April 1725, in Venice. In his twenties, Giacomo studied for the priesthood. He was expelled from the seminary for ‘dubious behaviour’ in his bed one night. This event triggered a lifetime of travel, adventure and, quite often, misdemeanour. While in Venice in 1755, he was locked up in Piombi prison for ‘alleged magical practices’. He gained further notoriety when he escaped from Piombi a year later.
Giacomo Casanova 1760, painting attributed to Frencesco Narici.
Casanova’s dabbling with the occult developed into broader alchemistic endeavours such as creating love potions, offering healing rituals and administering other forms of magical medicine. While this colourful and mysterious persona was developing, Casanova used it to his advantage, seducing numerous women along the way. History, it is sometimes said, is written by the victors. Casanova certainly wrote his. His autobiography ‘Histoire de ma Vie’ took over three years to write in later life, with a further six years amending and tweaking. Giacomo Casanova was clearly a colourful character whose exploits and writing provide us with an interesting perspective of life in the 18th century. Whether his reputation as an irresistible lover is warranted, we’ve only got his word for it.
Question of the Week
If you have read Tom Brown’s Schooldays, by Thomas Hughes, first published in 1857, you will recognise the character of Flashman. Flashman is a bully and a scoundrel. He is a liar, a cheat and a thief. These are some of his finer attributes. Flashman’s debauched personality was so popular that another author was inspired to write The Flashman Papers over a period of 36 years, starting in 1969. The series followed the life of Harry Flashman forging a dishonourable career as a Victorian soldier in the British Army in the 19th century. Who wrote the Flashman Papers?
And Finally…
The Brontës were an English literary family of the 19th century. Six children were born to an Anglican clergyman and his wife. Only Emily, Charlotte, Anne and brother Branwell survived to adulthood. Charlotte is the best-known of the three literary sisters, primarily due to the ongoing popularity of her book, Jane Eyre, an English literature classic. Emily ran close with her novel, Wuthering Heights, but failed to follow up with a second. Although the Brontës have an enduring presence in English literature today, they only published six novels between them. The reason for this lack of productivity becomes clear when you realise that all three had died prematurely. Charlotte experienced tragedy when, in the space of less than nine months between September 1848 and May 1849, she lost Branwell, her brother, aged 31, and both remaining sisters, Anne, aged 29 and Emily, aged 30.
Charlotte Brontë, 1850.
Mortality rates in the nineteenth century were high. In Haworth, West Yorkshire, where the Brontës lived, the average life expectancy was less than 26 years. The most common cause of death at the time was tuberculosis, exacerbated by poor sanitation, damp conditions and contaminated water. Charlotte wrote Jane Eyre in 1847, before the tragedy. Her remaining three works afterwards reflected her new mood of loneliness, grief and resilience and received less acclaim. She had married in 1854 and fallen pregnant in early 1855. However, tuberculosis struck again along with complications from pregnancy. Charlotte died with her unborn child 170 years ago tomorrow, 31 March 1855. She was 38 years old.
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The Flashman Papers were written by George MacDonald Fraser, born 100 years ago this Wednesday, 2 April 1925. Thank you to Dan T. from Texas, who suggested I read at least one of the series. I completed the first, Flashman, a couple of weeks ago. A great recommendation thanks Dan.
Wayne Gretsky, New York Rangers, late 1990s; Hakandahlstrom at English Wikipedia.Later versions were uploaded by IrisKawling at en.wikipedia., CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Phar Lap, 1931: Charles P S Boyer, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
That’s what a 31-length lead looks like! Secretariat wins the Belmont Stakes and Triple Crown, 1973: Charles LeBlanc, CC BY-SA 2.0.