Cheltenham Festival review: Graham Cunningham take on day one

Tickets please - Honey and Hill hit the day one high notes

He really is that kind of good, isn’t he?

But let’s begin at the beginning.

9.15 at a packed New St Station and the Tannoy booms “Rachael Blackmore to the paddock.” Strange.

A lad and two girls rocking the young farmers look on the 930 are inhaling Kopparberg. Honya farmers

At the track, gates fly at 10.30 and for the old firm, it’s still all about the Tweed.

But the Festival demo is broad. The Peaky Blinders are out in force - along with the sockless society - and the bars are humming.

1pm: The vibe changes. Laura Wright belts out Nessun Dorma.

Facile Vega fusses, Marine Nationale lopes - and delivers exactly what Barry O’Connell said he would as Ireland snag the Octella.

“I’ve told the whole of Ireland,” he says.

No you didn’t, Baz. You told the whole world and, however Good Land gets on, you won’t be needing that disguise on the ferry home.

Arkle Time: El Fabiolo is an absolute unit and does what Ireland expects.

Willie puffs his cheeks out but the job isn’t done until a fallen soldier rises – and the image of a Dysart Dynamo walking away perkily while his groom sobs is Cheltenham in a nutshell.

Ultima time - and bookies need a break.

No respite. Corach Rambler and Derek Fox reprise last year’s late show and watching him plot his way from back in Fazakerley at Aintree will be fascinating.

Now to the most brilliant young hurdler since……..well, since God was a lad.

The Hyde Park version of Constitution Hill was a duelling spot for Dukes and Earls in the 1700’s.

The equine version made the Champion look like a mere stroll in the park – breezing clear before letting fly at the last – and the atmosphere in a packed paddock was a collective “yes, that’s just what he does.”

Wind forward 40 minutes - and paddock bedlam is resumed.

I’m not sure whether that Station Tannoy guy was on but thousands of others were - and Honeysuckle and Rachael had them eating out of their hands after the Mares’ Hurdle.

Phew.

There aren’t many real advantages of getting older but one of them is that you have first-hand experience of hurdling’s Golden Age.

I adored Night Nurse, Sea Pigeon and Monksfield and watched in wonder as Istabraq dominated.

It sticks in the craw to suggest these modern heroes are in that bracket.

Bot there haven’t been many to pull on the heartstrings like Honeysuckle.

And there’s not a shred of doubt in my mind that all the greats would have had their hands full against Constitution.

What would I like to see tomorrow?

I’d like to see Enurgumene make it all white on the night.

I’d like to see Gaelic Warrior and Gerri Colombe go well.

I’d like to see Dinoblue end Willie’s handicap chase hexx.

And I’d love to see Davy get up on Galvin and then serve it up to Michael O’Leary.

But, forget the rankling Ryanair guv’nor.

Unless you were a bookie, this was a day one for the ages.

And, whisper it softly, the big races seemed to pass off with jockeys riding well within the new whip rules.

All in all, a fair old day for a game that’s supposed to be on its knees.

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