Heart trouble might make the jockey whose story was immortalised in the film Champions miss his first Grand National since 1971
Graham Rock
The most famous jockey to win the Grand National is confined to his home following a heart attack and might not attend Aintree on Saturday, for the first time in 30 years. Those who know Bob Champion MBE, though, would bet a mint to a mite that he will be watching the race from the stands. “I love the place and the people. I’ll get there if I can.”
His ruthless determination to survive when he was diagnosed with cancer, the remorseless ravages of chemotherapy, and his subsequent victory on Aldaniti 20 years ago, were immortalised in the film Champions. His triumph became one of the legends of sport.
At this distance, Champion remembers that the Grand National Day was bright and sunny. “After all the chemotherapy, my lungs were still impaired. On a clear, clean day, I could breathe more easily. I was very confident beforehand. Aldaniti was a class horse and he gave you everything.
“The only two in the field I thought would be dangerous were Royal Mail and Spartan Missile. [Trainer] Josh [Gifford] and I were hoping he’d have a nice lead for most of the way.”
That was the carefully considered strategy of mere humans; Aldaniti had alternative plans. “At the first fence he stood off too far, came down too steep, and his nose and legs scraped the grass. I remember thinking what a waste it was for both of us. Somehow, he recovered. The second was worse. He stood off even further, scraped his belly on the top of it, and hurt himself. At the third, the big open ditch, he almost frightened himself. He was a very intelligent horse and those early fences made him think.”
Thereafter, Aldaniti, who died in 1997, relished the race. “He was brilliant. I just sat on him, a complete passenger.” In 20th place at the Canal Turn, Aldaniti soared over the obstacles, and three fences later had jumped his way to the front. “I thought, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ It went through my mind that if I got beaten I would get a bollocking, and it would be deserved, but there was no point in hauling him back.”
Aldaniti sauntered on. Porcelain legs had curtailed his career and the Grand National was only his second race in 17 months. The strain on the reins as Aldaniti galloped at the head of the field told Champion that victory was certain. “I started to think about other Grand National winners, Lucius, Rubstic and, most of all, Red Rum, how they had done it, how they had been ridden.”
Aldaniti was not foot-perfect three from home and Royal Mail closed, but his effort evaporated with a blunder at the next. In front at the last, Aldaniti was challenged on the long run-in by Spartan Missile and his breeder, owner, trainer, rider, 54-year-old John Thorne. Aldaniti had enough in reserve to hold on by four lengths.
The dream that had nursed Champion through many months of misery had become a glorious reality, a triumph that reached far beyond the claustrophobic community of racing. “I rode this race for all the patients in the [Royal Marsden] hospital, and for all the people who look after them. My only wish is that my winning shows them there is always hope, and all battles can be won. I hope it will encourage others to face their illness with fresh spirit,” he said after the race.
That message was not lost on the many who had been alerted to Champion’s struggle by the media. They wrote, saying they had backed the winner, and enclosed contributions to the Royal Marsden. “It was a lot of money, thousands of pounds.”
Such a windfall might have been donated directly to the hospital or its charity, but Professor Sir Michael Peckham, now director of research and development at the department of health, saw an opportunity for something more substantial.
The Bob Champion Cancer Trust was launched in 1983, since when it has raised more than 6-million. Among its vice-presidents are John Hurt, who played Champion in the film, Andrew Lloyd-Webber and Kiri Te Kanawa.
On March 8 this year he awoke at 5.30am with severe pains in his chest. “It felt as though I had broken all my ribs. I thought it might be heartburn or indigestion. I was freezing cold, but the sweat was pouring off me, dripping from my face. Jeanette [his partner] turned on the light, took one look, and rang the doctor.”
Soon Champion was speeding to Addenbrooks hospital, 18km away in Cambridge. “Here we go again,” I thought. “I was in intensive care for three days, stayed another four days in hospital, and then I was well enough to leave. If Jeanette hadn’t put the light on …”
Home is Cleveland House in Newmarket. Unable to drive for the time being, Champion prowls around the rooms, a caged cougar, short of breath, lacking energy for the first time in 20 years. He had spent months in the Royal Marsden, debilitated to despair by chemotherapy, day after day of mapping the cracks on the walls. “I’d rather die if I can’t ride again,” he told his doctors.
His present confinement seems no less frustrating. Boredom is the enemy. “I read the paper, I read it over and over again. I watch television during the day, which is awful. If I see one more Changing Rooms or cookery programme …
“I know I must rest, and I’m feeling a lot better this week than I did last. I’m good at getting fit, but this time it was like running into a brick wall. The doctors are pleased, but it will probably be six months before I’m 100%.”
Before the heart attack, he had been hurtling around the country week after week. As a roving ambassador for the British Racing School, he spread the word among potential recruits of the rewards of a life working with horses. The industry is short of staff, and Champion’s unpaid efforts make a significant contribution. “What has surprised me, talking to schoolchildren, is the fact that they barely know racing exists. They still think it’s something for the ‘Establishment’, that you have to be born into the job. A lot of kids would like to get into racing if they knew the opportunities were there.”
Increasing weight brought Champion’s retirement from the saddle a year after Aldaniti’s National. “When Lumen won at Wetherby in 1982, it was the right time. I wanted to pack up while I was still enjoying it. Some jockeys go on a little bit too long.”
In between riding and his present occupations, Champion trained for 15 years; bad debts closed the stable. “New owners are inevitably optimistic, but they don’t realise just how expensive it is to train horses properly. I don’t miss it. Everybody likes a winner, but there were so many bad days, when horses came back from the gallops injured, hurt, and then you had to tell the owners.”
Once a year he has to return to the Royal Marsden for a check-up. “I hate it. During the week beforehand I get very twitchy. When I’m driving there, and get within a mile or two, I smell the mixture of platinum and sweat, and it all comes back.”
Which horse does Champion like in the big race on Saturday? His reply is unequivocal. “Beau. I love his attitude. He’s a free-running horse who jumps for fun. I can see him pinging the first few fences and really enjoying himself around there.” The many thousands who travel to Aintree for the Grand National will take an even greater pleasure in the day if they know that their hero is with them, among the crowds in the stands, savouring the world’s greatest steeplechase.