O n Tuesday I saw a one-year-old filly, an unnamed creature which has never borne a rider, let alone won a race, sell for 4.4 million guineas (£4.62 million).
The annual yearling sale at Tattersalls in Newmarket is horse racing’s futures market. The ring was full of (to me) indistinguishable horses, which went for the price of a London flat if not a mansion, so I asked a noted trainer what he was looking for. A certain length of bone, he said; a great walk.
As with fashion designers and supermodels, there was much talk of the walk. And this sale of “Book One” yearlings, the crème de la crème, is like Paris haute couture: only the richest can play, yet their decisions trickle down eventually to common punters, whether buying a jacket or poring over the Racing Post..