IT’S been intriguing to hear the range of debate regarding the latest raft of changes to the Grand National, ostensibly aimed at maximising horse welfare while retaining the race’s character but characterised in many places as a knee-jerk reaction to the pressure brought to bear by vociferous animal rights groups.

It’s particularly interesting to note that the loudest voices crying for the need to stand up to those with a perceived anti-racing stance are not those of participants, but hardcore racing fans, especially those of a certain vintage.

It’s fair to say that I fit that definition, but while I love the fact that racing has a long and storied history, I’m not a believer in the absolute sanctity of tradition.

I couldn’t care less if you say Epsom Derby, for example, or even Ascot Gold Cup, despite tradition dictating that the racecourse names in those titles are entirely superfluous.

It’s worth remembering that the history of the Grand National hasn’t always been glorious, and if we are arguing that nothing should be changed at Aintree, we’d still be jumping stone walls in the finishing straight.

The type of horse running in the Grand National has not remained the same, with the great, slashing chasers of the Victorian era and the first part of the 20th century giving way to a finer, although less robust model bred for a National Hunt programme with increasing emphasis on hurdling.

Debated in parliament

A spate of fatalities in the immediate post-war years saw the continued existence of the race debated in parliament, and the fences were altered radically without any great consternation.

That was almost 70 years ago, and the breed has continued to evolve according to fashion, so it makes sense that the race should evolve along similar lines.

It’s crucial that any changes are well considered, and that Aintree’s officials are not simply bowing to the demands of a group which will not be satisfied with anything short of a total cessation of the sport, but those advocating for the race to remain unaltered also need to consider that they do not get entrenched in a conflict with those same anti-racing voices.

The important thing isn’t that racing’s rulers should stand up to those who oppose it, but that they should ensure that racing is as attractive a proposition as possible for those who may choose to support it.

That means balancing welfare concerns with aesthetics, and ensuring the Grand National provides the best possible spectacle without compromising on safety.

Evolution isn’t always smooth, of course, and not every change to the Aintree course in the last few decades has been for the best in my opinion, and a combination of reducing the size of the fences, the drops on the landing sides (particularly at Becher’s) and the stiffness of the cores, while individually benign, has changed the nature of the race in a way which has presented new dangers.

Brave man’s route

In my youth, the field used to fan out across the track to Becher’s, with those taking the “brave man’s route” down the inside risking the worst of the drop with often predictable results; I recall both John Francome and Peter Scudamore turning somersaults there on Golden Rapper and Strands Of Gold respectively, and perceived wisdom was that finding room to jump the fearsome fence well was much more important than trying to save a few yards by being daring.

These days, to think of jumping Becher’s on the outside would be enough for the stewards to enquire if you’re making any effort to win.

The outside of the course is pretty much unchartered territory these days, and the old adage of “hunt round for the first circuit and ride a race on the second” is now also laughable.

The fact that the fences have become so fair means that anyone with a desire to win the race feels the need to get track position on the long run to Becher’s on the very first circuit, and with the minimum rating now hovering around 145, the vast majority of the runners are able to go faster than the honest plodders of yesteryear.

Catalyst for trouble

As a result of this more competitive environment, the Grand National field has become more congested, and – in my view – this crowded environment is a catalyst for trouble.

The solution to relieving the congestion is either to ensure that going slower early or racing wide is not a disadvantage (my suggestion of ploughing the turf up for the first few furlongs has been met with a lukewarm response), or reducing the number of runners, and the latter is a change that is long overdue.

Statistics show that as field sizes increase in chases, so does the rate of fallers, and as falls increase so, inevitably do injuries. That data could easily be filed under “No Shit, Sherlock” but is important, nevertheless.

It would be interesting to imagine how the Grand National would look if it was designed from scratch in the modern era, and I think it’s helpful to think of any changes in the light of that scenario.

I note that many traditionalists are up in arms about the decision to reduce the maximum field to 34, but I think it’s utterly bizarre to live in a world where we are happy to impose safety limits of 20 or less for most flat races, while still advocating for twice that number over Aintree’s fences.

The Grand National built its reputation as a race apart a long time ago, and the idea that huge fields were an integral part of the appeal is utter nonsense. Of the first 70 runnings of the Aintree spectacular, just one had more than 30 runners.

If we were inventing this race today and someone suggested a field size of 40, he or she would rightly be laughed out of town.

It’s an example of a clear welfare issue which has been ignored due to tradition, even though the tradition of a 40-runner limit for Grand National has only existed since 1984.