Does it still count as Royal Ascot if nobody wears a silly hat? Unrecognisably changed by coronavirus, the famous race meeting began behind closed doors on Tuesday, with horses outnumbering posh frocks for the first time in the 300-year history of the Queen’s racecourse.
Broadcasters sought to convey a sense of triumph that racing was taking place at all, barely a fortnight after professional sport was allowed to resume, but, mindful of physical distancing regulations, they stopped short of actual backslapping. On ITV, Ed Chamberlin, Francesca Cumani and Jason Weaver appeared behind individual podiums, perfectly spaced two metres apart in the otherwise deserted paddock.
The closest brush with royalty came when the Queen’s grand-daughter Zara Tindall dropped into the show, via Skype or similar, her husband Mike gamely holding his phone at arm’s length throughout a leisurely interview, summoning the upper body strength that won him 75 caps for England. Zara offered “a big thank-you to all the key workers”, while Mike kvetched about the number of deliveries some of those key workers had been bringing for his wife during lockdown, proving they really are just a normal couple.
Organisers estimated there were, at most, 500 souls within the racecourse bounds, about 1% of the number that would normally turn up for day one. Something like 400 helicopters and a thousand limousines can generally be relied on to rock up over the course of the week but this time the skies remained clear and the high street uncongested.
“It is surreal,” said Nick Smith who, as Ascot’s PR man, gets pulled in about a thousand directions during a normal Royal week. This time, thanks to racing’s severe restrictions on who can attend, he had just four reporters on the site to deal with and sounded remarkably relaxed.
“Once you get used to the strangeness of it all, you notice that the atmosphere is definitely building during the day,” Smith said. “Trainers are finding their positions in the stand, conversations are happening. We had a photo finish in the second race after a proper Royal Ascot battle. It is building and I imagine as the week goes on, it will feel a lot more normal than today.
“It’s still an odd scenario that you don’t have to sprint off the stands to get to the winner’s enclosure before the horse does. I know the broadcasters are very pleased with how it looks. It’s going well.”
While stable staffers punch above their weight in terms of generating crowd noise, cheering on their charges with vigour and colourful language, Smith noted that the handful of others present with a betting allegiance were mostly staying quiet. For once, there will be no sign of that most shameful of racecourse habits, cheering for Horse A and then pretending you were on B all along as it crosses the line in front; with just two dozen others in the area, you would be rumbled.
Beyond the confines of leafy Berkshire, the nation was encouraged to enjoy “Royal Ascot at Home”, tweeting pictures of the outfits they might have worn to the races and linking to Ascot’s fundraising campaign for frontline charities with the hashtag #StyledWithThanks.
The results were predictably varied. Rosie Tapner, a model who doubles as a work-rider, set a high bar in her white and blue Catherine Walker outfit. David Yates, a tipster for the Daily Mirror who doubles as a top-hat vendor, rather lowered it with a vest and untamed beard, albeit beneath an impressive looking titfer.
There was a levelling effect in almost everybody being at home, even close connections of the best horses on show. When Battaash, regarded by some as the world’s best racehorse, finally got his longed-for Royal Ascot success, the wild celebrations of the two sons of his trainer, Charlie Hills, proved justly popular as they bounced around a living room somewhere in Lambourn.
ITV lingered over Battaash’s groom, Bob Grace, who has worked 38 years in the game without previously leading up a winner at the Royal meeting. For a time, he was alone on the winner’s podium, rolling up his sleeves as Matt Chapman interviewed him from a deferential spot at ground level. It was a lovely moment that could not have happened in a normal year, when that podium would be crammed with winning owners and famous people handing over trophies.
Given the choice, Grace would surely rather have had 50,000 spectators present to cheer on “his” horse at the crowning moment of Battaash’s career. But at least their absence left room for Grace’s contribution to be celebrated.
