The King George, 2019

I can’t do this anymore. Really, I can’t. Can’t hack it, can’t hack the tension, the gut churning nerves, the fear, the glory, the passion. Enable has broken me. I love her too much. Fierce, jealous love. Sweat-soaked-shirt-and-bleeding-lips love. Her second King George has broken me.

God above, I hated every second of it. Awful bloody feeling, all the way round. Saturday afternoon, alone in the silent kitchen, clouds lowering over south London. She had an awful draw, all the way on the outside. What if she lost? What if those hard-nosed thug colts from Tipperary kept my darling Enable on the outside all the way round? What if the bastards blocked her coming into the straight? Lord, please let her be quick enough. Don’t let her get blocked. Don’t let the bastards drag her down.

Horses in now. Gates crash open, and thank God, she’s forward, broken well. Snatch myself a breath. Get her inside Frankie! Get her forward and in! FUCK! No way in. Crystal Ocean perfectly placed, James Doyle impervious on top of him. Frankie tries to squeeze towards the rail but there’s a wall of horses. He takes a pull, she’s four wide and going backwards. Enable is heading towards Swinley Bottom, now only three horses wide of the rail but losing ground. GET HER IN, FRANKIE! FUCK!

Going round the bend, she’s sliding further back. Breathe. Only one horse to the rai, rounding Swinley Bottom, but the group in front are cruising and taking lengths. Oh God, oh God, Frankie’s had to make her give up a lot of ground so he can get her inside. Crystal Ocean still rock solid, Doyle granite faced above.

The Coolmore pacemaker starts to rack it up. She’s inching forward. Not too soon Frankie! Fucking hold her up! Not too soon! She keeps on grinding forward, she’s nearly caught them. SHIT! Too soon. Almost round the bend now, reins being shaken all over the pack, Anthony Van Dyck being shoved along. Somewhere, I see Waldgeist, red and green, being urged on. They’re all barrelling across each other, spilling round the final bend, two and bit furlongs left.

The horses at the front have melted. They’ve gone. A whirlwind of horses is sliding backwards and away. Crystal Ocean is all alone. Where is Enable?

There, there she is, bounding up. She’s gaining, she’s gaining, COME ON FRANKIE, PUSH HER OUT! COME ON HONEY!

The frame has stopped, Crystal Ocean and Enable are frozen together, her head under his shoulders. The picture isn’t moving. She isn’t gaining, she isn’t gaining, she isn’t going to win. Wait! No! Two more strides.

Primal screeching is coming from somewhere. Can’t be Richard Hoiles. Come on, come on, come on, baby, RUN!

Two heads bob back and forth. She is upsides now. They are locked together.

SHE’S IN FRONT! No! He is! I can’t tell. Push her on Frankie, come on. Oh God, Crystal Ocean has got back ahead. She’s going to wilt, he’s held her off. No. Please no.

Frankie’s driving now, the nagging rhythm of hands and heels. He’s waving the whip, just waving, she’s still drowning. Once more, honey. One last time.

The whip changes hands. She’s back ahead? Can’t tell. The two horses are just a tangle of limbs and heads, all whips and skullcaps.

COME ON BABY, COME ON HONEY, KEEP GOING.

COME ON ENABLE, RUN RUN RUN MY DARLING!

COME ON!

COME ON , COME ON, NREALY THERE NEARLY THERE.

COME ON, STRETCH!

YOU’VE GOT IT, COME ON FRANKIE, COME ON HONEY.

YES, BABY, YES, KEEP GOING.

YEEESSSSS!!!! YEEESSSSS!!!! YEEESSSSS!!!! AAARGGHHH!!! YEEESSS!!!!

It was the best race race I’ve seen. Maybe not the best performance, but certainly the best race I’ve watched. Sheer bareknuckle bloodiness. Enable and Crystal Ocean, for a full three furlongs, slugging it out until Crystal Ocean finally cracked and my darling girl got her nose in front. Ali-Frazier who?

The best race I’ve seen. I can’t do it again.