HARBINGER’S JAW DROPPING PERFORMANCE CATAPULTS HIM INTO THE LEAGUE OF THE ALL TIME GREATS

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]n the 11th century Lady Godiva rode naked through the streets of Coventry in the heart of England but only one resident, Peeping Tom, dared look through his shutters at her ladyship in all her glory.
The racing world salivated in anticipation of its next glimpse of Harbinger after his King George victory, a victory the like of which had never been seen in the European midsummer championship.
Many observers didn’t believe their sight or senses – hence that dazzlingly luminous day, in the moment of victory, an eerie silence jaw dropping even for statuesque Sir Michael Stoute and Aidan O’Brien, who have seen it all.
Then, pandemonium; but, being human, you didn’t need to be a sceptic to pinch yourself because just how do we assess the result? Without standards of comparison we imagine ourselves limitless. Wherever racing men gather together to discuss what are the best thoroughbred performances, Harbinger thrusts his name into contention.
There had been nothing like it on a British racecourse in a race of this magnitude, nothing to prepare us in Harbinger’s admittedly vaulting career. Where did the eleven-length victory come from – a victory unprecedented, moreover accomplished with style, élan – the contribution of a French jockey, Olivier Peslier, evident; the defeat of Classic winners comprehensive.
The argument – whether Harbinger was one of the greatest horses of all-time – has no resolution. The injury he sustained on Newmarket gallops within a fortnight of his finest hour will though, perversely, ensure his immortality.
Mystique is at least as essential as palpable achievement for immortality’s sake: mystique is provocative and our sensibilities thrive on provocation.
As soon as Harbinger was rated the best racehorse in the world for his stunning (there is no more appropriate word) performance than those confident they’d seen it all with Ribot and Sea-Bird asked themselves whether they could admit another god to their pantheon.
Argue all you like; Harbinger’s obliteration of Irish Derby winner Cape Blanco who was to beat the best of his contemporaries by over five lengths next time, in the Irish Champion Stakes, is indelible in the annals of the sport.
The world’s supremacists, be it boxing, tennis, Formula 1, golf, are always there to be shot at. Harbinger’s friends can dodge the bullets.
The performance was more than enough to give him a mention in the same breath as Ribot, Sea Bird, and Secretariat, Brigadier Gerard – and the preferences and prejudices of preferential alternatives.
The decision was made not to return him to the track after his operation. He was sold to Japan to Shadai Stud, which stands alone in the Orient. There the Yoshida families’ top stallion Sunday Silence was champion sire thirteen times; their White Muzzle, El Condor Pasa and Deep Impact journeyed west to be placed in the Arc.
Will European and indeed American breeders regret the day Harbinger slipped away? His sire Dansili is Juddmonte’s leading challenger to the stallion ranks of Coolmore and Darley while his dam’s line is peppered with Group performers. Harbinger didn’t race at two and didn’t win Group One at ten furlongs, neither fact endearing him to hidebound European breeders. There are better judges.
Olivier Peslier, many times French champion, gifted a once in a lifetime ride when stable jockey Ryan Moore chose Workforce for the King George, gave me his considered view on Arc day.
“I don’t like to say that there is a “best horse” I have ridden – that would be disrespectful to many wonderful horses. I’m sad he isn’t running and sad for the Arc. The race is missing him.”
Olivier raised a famous eyebrow when I suggested some pundits questioned Harbinger’s standing.
“He is right up there with the great ones – the Peintre Celebres, yes you mention him in the same breath. It was a privilege to ride him.”
Peslier rides regular winters in Japan, “I’m truly looking forward to renewing acquaintance when I go next,” he said.
Was it a one-off? Consternation is the parent of misgivings. Such feats as Harbinger’s amaze more than surprise; and when we can’t explain we court controversy.
Peslier confided in friends he thought he was on the King George winner from the time, a week before the race; he sat on Harbinger for the first time on Newmarket gallops.
Whether Moore would have allowed Peslier a second bite at the cherry in the Arc, is another poser to which we will never know the answer. What is history is that Workforce, seventeen lengths behind Harbinger at Ascot, was dominant in Paris.
Someday another horse will take away Harbinger’s Ascot record time, just as he claimed Grundy’s; they may even beat their field by a longer distance than he did. But we shall not go there again quite so innocent of what may unfold: this generation of race fans is prepared for the outstanding, even the miraculous. Harry Herbert said we may never see the like again: but that prospect won’t stop the search. There are x question marks in this piece – as there should be in any assessment of the outstanding.
The July memory remains a proud one: how could it be that barely had Sea The Stars’ feats been enshrined in history than we were gifted a horse whose winning distance at Ascot alone matched the total of Sea The Stars’ unblemished six victories?
Harbinger’s three Group victories before Ascot were at a lower level, mere stepping stones but form upheld by a stream of winners. Indeed through the season he beat the winners of four Group I, six Group II and four Group III – the races designed to establish a racehorse’s true worth.
Derided for underrating Sea The Stars, the International Handicap Panel will be mindful of underestimating Harbinger and turning him from a saint into a martyr.
Now the handsome but uncomplicated animal, who escaped early death by a fraction on his home gallops, goes to his ‘horse heaven’ in the Orient.
He will obviously be much missed. We must return to the peephole again hoping to catch another glimpse of the extraordinary through the shutters of history. 

—Rolf Johnson

DECEMBER – JANUARY 2011