THE FLOTSAM AND JETSAM OF THE DOCUMENTARY WORLD

'Searching for Shergar' did nothing except confirm that compared to the many excellent documentaries revolving around other spheres of the sporting world, those that cover horse racing invariably lack in factual accuracy and tend to be threaded together with crucial aspects missing.

We know those at the helm of making racing documentaries are mostly general film makers with no feel for the sport and no desire to maintain a long term involvement. After they've produced their botched piece of work, they nonchalantly move on to their next project .

This seemingly umpteenth documentary about the disappearance of Shergar shown on BBC 2 at the weekend was woeful and full of glaring omissions and errors. It was also a testament to how those who agree to partake can be made into caraciture like figures.

Stan Cosgrove, who was a driving force behind the Moyglare Stud operation was portrayed a dotty old eccentric with a propensity to drink and someone who would have slotted in well to an episode of the Vicar of Dibley or Father Ted, or even been a Harry Enfield character.

Cosgrove was also Shergar's vet which drew Alison Millar and her team to him. They must have left with a good few hours of live footage which they have gone through and put together with an emphasis on light hearted viewer entertainment over the subject matter.

IMDb's entry on Millar describes her as a 'critically acclaimed film maker with a reputation for making emotionally compelling films'.

Her work on Shergar would have attained more credibility if, for example, she had given the viewer a brief overview into the reality of racehorse breeding in the sense that the majority of top class horses do not make truly successful stallions

A passing viewer with little racing interest could have been forgiven for believing that Shergar was siring future champions all over the place. Despite Millar's assertion, the horse was never at any stage the most sought after or valuable stallion in the world.

Those of us who are racing fans will be able to recall that the one crop that saw the racecourse included an Irish Leger winner in Authaal, that grey thing of Paul Coles in the orange silks, Tisn't,  and Maysoon who was placed in the 1,000 Guineas and Oaks.

It was a fair if not spectacular beginning. Whether he was any sort of significant loss to the breeding world cannot be proven either way, though it's is unlikely that he was.

Other gripes with the documentary included no explanation being given why Lester Piggott was aboard in the Irish Derby. It was reported as though Swinburn was just randomly replaced, truth being of course that he had been suspended for a careless riding offence on Centurius in the King Edward at Royal Ascot.

And the documentary gave the impression that Shergar's career ended on a high, with no mention of the St Leger defeat which led the viewer into believing the horse had won on all of his three year old starts.

Finally, we were subjected to the often repeated anecdote, this time by Clare Balding, that John Mathias, the rider of the runner up in the Derby, Glint of Gold, believed he had won, so far ahead of him Shergar was. By all accounts, Mathias did come out with these words but surely it was tongue in cheek and delivered to pay respect to the winner.

The good racing documentaries made by general film makers are few and far between. Back in the 1970's  there was one following a teenage lad who was going to Doncaster races to see his hero Lester Piggott and Nijinsky in their Triple Crown bid. It had a bit of the 'Kes' about it.

This was a time when the BBC seemed full of daytime documentaries about hippies in caravans with the Moon and various other celestial objects painted on them. The narrative was very restrained, the narrator speaking with the customary BBC accent.

I recall one in the late 1970's about Trevor Kersey's Rotherham yard. Not a lot happened but there was no attempt to jazz up the programme, though I doubt it would have been possible. Rather an insight into a small family run yard operating near the bottom of the ladder. Humble reality but enjoyable.

Then we have the pieces made for the specialist racing channels. Those start of the winter Lenny Lungo trainer talks, that Cash Asmussen piece that was shown one Christmas Day on Racing UK,  and that baffling one fronted by Miriam Francome where she was asking trainers who their favourite Paris Chef was!

But arguably, of all the programmes made about racing from outside the sport, the most eyebrow raising would be an episode of After Dark, which used to be broadcast on a Friday in the late 1980's.

After Dark was fronted by that cult legend Anthony H Wilson, and each week it focussed on a different subject. As its name suggests, the programme started around 11pm and went into the early hours of the morning.

When racing was chosen as the subject, those present were Barney Curley, journalist  Brian Radford, ex-jockey Duncan Keith, John McCririck, an anonymous problem gambler who sat in the dark throughout the broadcast, and a self-confessed Communist who stated he was an 'Aintree resident'.

It was entertaining stuff. Duncan Keith revealed that he used to stop horses by going too fast in front. McCririck thought it was a shame that a once great front-running jockey was now resorting to telling tales to earn some money. Wilson intervened and suggested to McCririck that what many of those rides he perceived to be attempted all the way successes, were, in fact, Keith stopping them. McCrickrick then repeated that it was a shame how Keith's life had panned out. Keith then retorted that he was doing fine, running a successful pub business.

The 'Aintree resident' believed that the Queen should be 'serving the auld fish and chips', and added that every year, when the Grand National meeting is staged, the traffic is held up by 'Hoorah Henrys' crossing the road. Curley interrupted, accusing him of having a chip on his shoulder.

Brian Radford revealed he was about to produce a story that would rock the racing world. He described that a well known successful trainer was putting slabs of lead beneath horse bandages on their legs to slow them down, even to hide their ability on the gallops. It was put to him that this sounded too ridiculous to be true and would damage the horse's tendons, and that there are far safer and less complicated ways of stopping horses. Needless to say no such story made it to print.

It would be a shame if the reel of this programme was no more. It's certainly not on You Tube. The broadcasting companies began transferring old reel to digital at some stage but plenty were discarded or lost, and being realistic After Dark would hardly have been high up on the must preserve list.  

image - Shergar prior to the Chester Vase - taken by author