I AM finally understanding the difference between being locked up and being locked down. Until recently I thought that the former meant that you have no bills to pay, are fed regularly and get access to free medical care, counselling and adult education while locking down was for tracker mortgage rates.

Apparently, however, that is “locking in” which, in turn, I always thought was something that went on in a Kerry pub. I bet that is somewhere where we would all like to go, especially now that we cannot.

Being locked down has definitely compromised my ability to judge the passing of time. St Patrick’s Day, without its parades, seems an eternity ago although only five weeks have passed since Leo Varadkar made his speech in Washington, announcing, “I need to speak to you about coronavirus,” before moving to the closure of schools the following day and the challenges that would lie ahead.

That speech was actually before racing started on the Thursday of Cheltenham and the intervening 37 days have crept by at a snail’s pace, yet amount to only the same time that elapsed, so much quicker as I recall, between the Dublin Racing Festival at Leopardstown and the tapes going up for the Supreme Novices’ Hurdle.

Countryside

Time is, of course, the dominant element in all our lives. With no travel to and from work, no school runs nor ferrying children to varying life-improving activities, no social outings nor visitors dropping by, there is no shortage of it. For those of us living in the countryside, especially those on farms, the normal disadvantages in terms of services and facilities no longer apply. Lots of things might feel like more of a liability than an asset, but fresh air and continued occupation is a definite benefit.

It is the first time in 30 years that I have spent five consecutive weeks at home and, one day, when the suffering of so many has eased, I imagine that I will look back with a degree of gratitude to have had some time alone with the people that mean most to me in the place that also does.

The Goffs team is operating well from home, with regular meetings via online forums. I am one of the survivors of the pre-internet era, so am not sure how we would have fared when telexes, faxes and typewriters were the only available office machinery.

I remember the arrival of the internet in Goffs; it was considered such a risk to the accounting systems in particular that a strong firewall security package was purchased.

Unfortunately, this particular package was so pre-occupied with preventing any form of pornography reaching our desks that any e-mail with the word “stud” in it was deemed likely to contain inappropriate content, and the associated correspondence was immediately banished to wherever such things are sent. Not ideal in a bloodstock auction house, and a good example of losing more on the swings than we gained on the roundabouts.

Movement will return

Although we are busy considering our strategic options, most operational aspects of the sales world are currently paralysed. Movement will return but there is no certainty as to exactly when and how, and plenty of breeders and consignors in Ireland are affected by several different jurisdictions. It has certainly made Brexit look like a problem of rather less consequence than we envisaged.

There are of course two things people can do at the moment – for some it is to provide and distribute vital goods and services, and for the others, it is to do as we are asked, and keep out of the way. Like almost every business, the racing world must maintain a balanced perspective and anybody pushing too hard against that could be seen in a similar light to those who (intentionally) throw stones at fire engines or (accidentally) amble out in front of the horses and jockeys when a race is taking place.

Meanwhile, our international industry leaders must ensure that they are ready to go when the time comes and, as with us sales companies, I imagine they are liaising with ongoing reviews of the options as target dates become more, or less, likely to be met.

Because Cheltenham “went ahead”, horse racing has an added challenge of how it is perceived by a previously ambivalent section of society. However, in addition to getting the wheels turning again as quickly as possible, the sport’s strategists should take this opportunity to consider other changes that might enhance the long-term health of the sport and those involved in it.

What are the changes that can give the sport a new look? Everything in life needs a break from time to time and the racing calendar should look again at a clearly defined “off period” for both flat and National Hunt racing. It refreshes the enthusiasm of both participants and spectators, as football (of any type) demonstrates.

In a business looking to attract new interest and, at the risk of provoking a flurry of indignation, horse racing is unusually pre-occupied with honouring its retired or deceased performers. Some races, such as the Arkle at Cheltenham, or the Derby, could not be better named but too much nostalgia excludes newcomers in any sphere and nobody in a new relationship of any sort, personal or business, wants to hear too much about those who came before.

A certain Mexican beer

Mind you, if horse racing is a challenge for the marketing people, imagine how the poor people at a certain Mexican beer company are feeling. What would you do with all those bottles of Corona? A bad name is hard to shake and there have not been a lot of children named Adolf over the last 80 years.

The sales world is considering its options too. Following the Inglis sale 10 days ago, there was much praise for online selling but I have reservations about just how big a role the “online” element played in the proceedings.

All of the horses were inspected on the farms and no international investors suddenly materialised on the basis of “online” information only. Many bids were made on the telephone by buyers following the auction on the internet- nothing much different to what has happened for years at Goffs, Tattersalls or Arqana.

Indeed, since 2014 Goffs have sold horses in absentia, alongside high-class video footage and veterinary information, at the London Sale. These include two sales of £1.3 million (over Aus$2.5 million at today’s rates), for absent lots Cappella Sansevero and Jet Setting.

This is not to diminish the efforts of our colleagues in Inglis but to perhaps defer any false hope that we are witnessing a new dawn and that online sales – in their truest sense – will be an alternative outlet for high-class untried thoroughbreds.

The Australian business employs plenty of Irish people, the modern equivalents of a young man from Co Clare, Michael Considine who emigrated to America 150 years ago. He worked in Boston before moving to California where he died in 1873 at the age of 23. Before his death, he wrote a poem about his home town which shows that, even then, selling horses was as much about the presence of people as the presence of horses:

“It was on the twenty third of June the day before the fair

where Ireland’s sons and daughters and friends

assembled there

the young, the old, the brave and the bold came their

duty to fulfil

at the little church at Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill”