Well the world's most famous horse race gets under way tomorrow, and the sporting fan, where ever he is, may just take an interest. What a show. Man and horse facing what fate will throw at them, as they pit themselves against some of the most challenging obstacles in the game. The Grand National has made many sporting heroes, it's shone a well focused, bright light on some of the greatest chasers ever to have graced the UK turf. It wasn't always the event we see today, it once boasted the very best going around at the time, including Gold Cup winners. But this essay is not so much about the titans who've given this race the rich history in which it now revels, it's about a gentleman from Spain who had an all encompassing passion for this wonderful Aintree race. And what a man he was. So often derided as the worst jockey to ever throw his leg over a Grand National chance, the four time Grandee of Spain, Beltrán Alfonso Osorio y DÃez de Rivera, 18th Duke of Albuquerque, Duke of Algete, Marquis of Alcañices, los Balbases, Cadreita, Cuéllar, Cullera and Montaos, Count of Fuensaldaña, Grajal, Huelma, Ledesma, la Torre, Villanueva de Cañedo and Villaumbros, was actually anything but useless in the saddle. Being a man of great humility, he solicited no unearned praise, he was happy to let his many failings as a race rider, do his talking for him. Still, he was a man of conviction. A conviction that grew from a small spark in early childhood, into a raging inferno as an adult. As a child of just eight years, the Duke of Albuquerque was handed a film of the Grand National, and like many of us, he was immediately smitten with the race. He was to later admit that he made a promise to himself that he'd one day win the race. It was never to be, but he certainly pulled out all stops in his valiant efforts to make that dream come true. Seven times he tried. On six of those occasions, he was cruelly smashed into the turf. The man known as the Iron Duke would pay a heavy physical price for the pursuit of that dream. A rather tallish gent at about the six foot mark and some 10 and a half stones in weight, he cut a rather dashing figure. At least below the shoulders. He possessed a rather hawkish nose which hovered above a chin of generous proportions. He was well admired by all who met him though. He was the darling of many a social gathering. And despite the rather unflattering things said about his prowess in the saddle, he would on two occasions, represent his homeland at a Summer Olympics. He proved to be a rather prudent fellow as well. Being a man of substance and foresight, he made sure that before each of his attempts at the National, he booked first rate accommodation at the best hospitals in the area. Just in case something went horribly amiss. National day in 1952 was horrible. A thick fog hung over the course shielding at least half the race from the massive crowd. What they witnessed though was the complete shambles at the start. The tape was broken early, leading to a ten minute delay in the race. The Iron Duke got off to a reasonable start. I can't be sure about the horse he rode, it might have been a neddy by the name of Skouras. What I can be sure of though, is that the esteemed gent was on borrowed time. Six fences in, horse lost it's footing on landing, smashing the good gent into the turf. There he lay, curled up on his side, motionless and unconscious. He awoke the following day to be greeted by the agony of two broken vertebra in his neck. The whole affair must have been a rather sobering experience for the Duke of Albuquerque, he wasn't seen again for another eleven years. He burst back onto the scene in 1963. He'd only had the one national ride, but such was his fame, great interest was taken in his reappearance. Very few thought the man could ride, including the bookies who offered 66-1 that the Duke wouldn't keep his seat. They'd pulled the right rein, he fell at the fourth. Two years later, his horse collapsed beneath him leaving him with a broken leg. The highlight of his career though, happen in 1974. After having 16 screws removed from his leg after another race fall, he fell while in training for the National. He broke his collar bone. He was placed in a plaster cast. It wouldn't happen today, but somehow the gentleman was allowed to take his place in the race, cast and all. The massive field of 42 got under way, long on hope, but as it turned out, short on luck. As Red Rum ground his way to another of his wonderful wins, he left in his wake, utter carnage. 34 contestants bowed down to the mighty Aintree course. One of the 8 who completed the course was Nereo piloted by the Iron Duke of Albuquerque himself. He'd finished last of the 8, but he'd got the job done. With the inevitable microphone shoved in his face he confessed. " I sat like a sack of potatoes and gave the horse no help." Another story from the race said that at one stage during the running, he'd barged into Ron Barry at the Canal Turn the second time around. "What the **** are you doing?" Shouted Barry. "My dear chap, I haven't a clue, I've never been this far before." He modestly replied. The Iron Duke would make one last attempt at the great race, two years later, aged 57. He'd go out with a bang. After once more coming to grief, he was trampled by several runners who couldn't avoid him. Again he was carted away in the land of nod, only to be aroused a couple of days later, in his luxury hospital room. Those terrible, uncaring horses had broken seven of his regal ribs, fractured a few of his vertebra and given him major concussion. Oh I forgot to mention, he also suffered a broken wrist and a fractured thigh. He who would begrudge the Iron Duke of Albuquerque a place in Grand National lore, must surely be a tiresome person.
He must have had some spirit to keep coming back like he did, fall after brutal fall after fall... The world loves a man who tries his heart out, as usually they don't have a lot in between the ears to tell them other wise... Nice read Cyc...
I've heard of him Cyc and he is rightly a noteworthy part of Aintree history. Thanks for providing more details...great read.
Good read Cyc. I'd never heard of him but like many Brits I do like a trier even if there seems to be little discernible talent on show.
Great write up Cyc. If you'd ask me my memories of the '60s Nationals it would be the Duke and The Fossa always turning up.
Thanks Cyc. I have to admit I wasn't aware of the Iron Duke's persistence and bravery. I do remember well The Fossa though
A horse trained by if I remember correctly by the great Fred Rimell. I think he ran prominently in the 66 to 69 races. He did win at Aintree in 1965 but the Grand Sefton and in '67 he won the Scottish National. The corresponding horse of the '70s was The Pilgarlic, again I think.
I was convinced that Freddie would win a GN one day, but sadly he never did, always ran well, but never well enough!
