The Jump That Won A Grand National

He had prepared in other ways than by walking the course. There is a belief among horsemen that the best way to train for racing is by racing, and he had been criticized because he had ridden Jay Trump in only five races before the National, winning three of them, and had refused to ride other horses in other races. Instead, he bicycled, weight-lifted and, for interminable hours over a five-month period, studied movies of previous Grand Nationals. He had no wish to risk injury in preparing for a race that represented a life's ambition.

On the afternoon before the National, Smith and his wife went appropriately to a Frank Sinatra movie entitled None but the Brave. He was in bed by 7:30 p.m., for he is a prodigious sleeper. Just before saddling time the riders sipped the customary cup, a mixture of champagne and orange juice called a fifty-fifty. The paddock area was jammed with spectators anxious to see the horses and the Queen Mother, who had entered a horse of her own, The Rip. The Rip ran well but finished seventh. The Queen Mother appeared in the walking ring wearing a costume of very light turquoise, studied the circling horses knowingly and repaired to the Royal Box.

Smith said afterward that the race was a "blur" to him, but he remembered some details well. He had a hard time getting into the line, because of Jay Trump's reluctance to mingle with other horses, and when the tape went up he was left two lengths behind. Fred Winter had instructed him to "get inside and stay there," and so he pulled his horse back and moved to the inside position. Mrs. Stephenson's only instruction, which she gives before every race, was to "get around safely."

"A horse fell in front of meat the third fence after the Canal Turn," said Smith, "and my horse stepped on the rider. It almost made me sick. I've never been in so much bedlam."

In due course it appeared the race would be among Jay Trump, Peace-town and the 7-to-2 favorite, Freddie, the pride of Scotland, though other well-regarded mounts like Rondetto, Kapeno and Vultrix were doing well for a time. Horses were falling, or refusing, or being pulled up, and when they came to the Canal Turn for the second time (the 4� mile race is twice around the course) the field had thinned out so that, as Smith said, "I was able to pick my fences and ride a normal race." He began to make his move at The Elbow, as the turn into the stretch is called.

Peacetown tired and fell back, giving way to Mr. Jones, who finished third. With but two fences to go, Freddie and Jay Trump were side by side. With only one to go, they were pretty much the same, though Jay Trump gained a trifle on the penultimate jump. Then Smith gambled on the knowledge he had gained in walking the course. He asked Jay Trump for a "very quick fence."

A quick fence is one in which a horse flattens out and takes the jump with a low trajectory. Against hard fences like those at Aintree, it can be dangerous. If the horse miscalculates he cannot just brush through the top. He collides with an unyielding wall.

Jay Trump responded, forelegs straight out in front of him, hind legs straight out behind him. He cleared the fence, gaining perhaps three-quarters of a length on Freddie, who took the jump with a normal high bound. And three-quarters of a length was the margin by which Jay Trump won, though not without a desperate struggle in the flat run to the finish. Jay Trump gained even more ground because he was able to recover quickly from his long, low jump, but Freddie had to come back from his almost vertical descent. Once down and running, Freddie—whipped on by Rider Pat McCarron—closed on his rival at an extremely threatening rate. He drove on until his nose was alongside the withers of the American horse. But he could not pass him. Jay Trump crossed the finish line a clear winner of one of the most thrilling Grand Nationals ever raced. The last American-bred horse to win was Battleship, who did it 27 years ago. The last amateur to win was Captain Bobby Petre on Lovely Cottage in 1946. But Tommy Smith was the first American jockey to win on an American horse.

The decision as to whether this is to be the last Grand National, a race that goes back in history to 1839 and has been run every year since except during two world wars, rests with Parliament, the courts and Aintree's owner, Mrs. Mirabel Topham, 74, a former showgirl who once played leggy parts in musical comedy. She is the widow of Arthur Topham, grandson of the man who took over the race in 1849. A few years ago she concluded that it had become unprofitable and decided to sell the track to a real estate development company. Crowds, though their size never is announced officially, had thinned in postwar years, in part because Mrs. Topham sold television rights to the BBC and a punter could see it all in his living room better than at the track and, furthermore, place his bet simply by telephoning his bookmaker.

But the Earl of Sefton, one of the race's four stewards, and the man who sold the track to Tophams Ltd., obtained an injunction restraining the firm from selling the land during his lifetime for purposes other than horse racing. Mrs. Topham is appealing and, if necessary, will take her case to the House of Lords. Meanwhile, others are interested. Crockford's, the leading London gambling club, announced last year that it would make an offer to buy Aintree and keep the Grand National going there if the government would allow it to run a sweepstake on the race. Since then Tim Holland, Crockford's chairman, has been a prime mover behind a parliamentary bill that would let him proceed with his plan. On its second reading it passed the Lords (March 16) by 62 votes to 46. It will have its third reading soon and, if passed, must then go through three readings in Commons. In any case, Mrs. Topham, contemplating the crowds that thronged to the track for the "last" running on Saturday (there may have been better than 100,000 present), allowed that she herself might hold another Grand National Steeplechase next year.