Good Luck with Your Appeal, Shark:We need Characters Like You

Shark Hanlon—once celebrated for his passion, grit, and the kind of old-school authenticity that horse racing so desperately needs—has become the latest casualty of public optics. His crime? Transporting a dead horse in an open trailer where a flapping tarpaulin exposed the carcass to public view. Cue the outrage. A viral video spread like wildfire, and the Irish Horseracing Regulatory Board (IHRB) sprang into action, not to protect the sport’s integrity but to appease the delicate sensibilities of a Twitter-fueled mob.

The result? A 10-month ban and a €2,000 fine for an accident that, in the grand scheme of things, is more about unfortunate optics than any real wrongdoing. And to make matters worse, Hanlon now faces the gut-wrenching reality of his horses being sold off at Doncaster in a sad dispersal that feels like the slow dismantling of one of the last great characters in racing.

Racing has always been a sport that embraces life and death in equal measure. It’s the nature of the beast—horses live, race, sometimes die, and the show goes on. But in 2024, it seems the sight of death itself has become too much for the public to handle. Hanlon’s mistake wasn’t cruelty, neglect, or cheating; it was simply failing to wrap a tarp tightly enough to shield sensitive eyes from the raw reality of the sport.

The IHRB, in its rush to manage public outrage, has decided to make an example of Hanlon—one of the few remaining personalities in the game who isn’t a polished PR robot. In doing so, they’ve missed the bigger picture. Racing is losing more than just a trainer; it’s losing a character, one of the last true individuals who made the sport feel real, human, and alive. Hanlon’s ban isn’t about upholding the rules; it’s about keeping up appearances, about managing the sport’s image in a world where viral videos dictate regulatory decisions.

Meanwhile, other trainers, like Dan Skelton, have walked away with little more than a slap on the wrist for far more deliberate offenses. Skelton, who was fined £6,000 for failing to disclose a financial interest in the sale of a horse, misled the British Horseracing Authority (BHA) and pocketed £42,033 in the process. Yet there was no social media outcry, no viral video, no career-ending punishment. Just a fine and a “move along, nothing to see here” attitude from the authorities.

It’s clear what’s happening: the IHRB is running scared of public opinion, usually misinformed and fickle. Rather than defending the sport and its realities, they’ve chosen to sacrifice one of racing’s great personalities in a desperate attempt to avoid bad PR. Hanlon wasn’t trying to deceive anyone, wasn’t deliberately breaking the rules, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. What matters is what the public sees—and, more importantly, how they react.

The dispersal sale at Doncaster is a heartbreaking reminder of what we’re losing. Hanlon’s horses, sold off one by one, mark the slow demise of a man who brought something raw and real to the sport. A trainer who didn’t follow the corporate script but who, in his own way, embodied the spirit of horse racing. Without figures like Hanlon, racing risks becoming a soulless spectacle, stripped of the very characters that give it life.

Let’s take a step back and compare this to Barry Hearn’s handling of Ronnie O’Sullivan in snooker. O’Sullivan—volatile, eccentric, prone to outbursts—has been given slack over the years because Hearn understands the value of characters. Hearn has never let O’Sullivan go too far, but he also knows that snooker is better for having Ronnie in the game, with all his unpredictability. Hearn recognised that a sport needs its personalities, its characters who don’t always play by the rules, but who make it far more exciting to watch.

Shark Hanlon is that kind of character for racing. A bit rough around the edges, perhaps, but full of heart and passion. And yet, the IHRB has thrown him to the wolves to appease the masses, ignoring the fact that racing without its Sharks becomes a lot less interesting.

So, good luck with your appeal, Shark. Here’s hoping the IHRB wakes up and realises what they’re losing. Not just a trainer, but one of the last real characters in the sport. Because without the Sharks of this world, horse racing risks becoming a polished, corporate facade—bland, joyless, and far removed from the sport we all fell in love with.