Is Dan the Man? Finally, We’re Calling a Spade a Spade After Four Years of Coded Messages and Inertia

At long last, after years of polite waffle, non-committal statements, and industry leaders behaving like rabbits in the headlights of impending irrelevance, someone in racing has actually said something. Dan Skelton, the ever-pragmatic, no-nonsense trainer, has broken ranks and uttered what the rest of us have been muttering into our race cards for years: this sport needs a bloody shake-up.

Of course, for an industry that treats change with the same enthusiasm as a gelding facing a water jump, this sort of honesty is borderline revolutionary. Racing has spent years issuing cryptic statements about its struggles, nodding sagely at plummeting attendance figures, and forming committees dedicated to reviewing the state of things rather than doing anything about them. And now, finally, someone is calling a spade a spade rather than referring to it as an "ongoing excavation apparatus under industry assessment."

Big, Bold Changes! (Or at Least, a Slightly Different Fixture List)

Skelton, currently leading the trainers’ championship, has put his name to a series of radical ideas, chief among them the notion that racecourses should concede some of their own power and that the fixture list should be shaken up to make the Grand National the finale of the jumps season.

This, in any other sport, would be a simple scheduling adjustment. In racing, however, it’s akin to suggesting the Queen’s corgis be replaced with rescue greyhounds. Tradition, you see, is sacrosanct. Even if it’s now dragging the sport down like a lead weight attached to a drowning man.

Skelton’s argument is simple: modern audiences don’t have the same deep-rooted loyalty to racing as the old guard did. The modern punter isn’t enchanted by a 4.30 at Southwell; he’s watching short-form highlights on TikTok while simultaneously losing a tenner on an in-play market for shots on target in the Belarusian third division. Racing is competing with a world that moves fast, and yet, its leaders still seem to think the best way to engage younger audiences is a free pint and a tribute band after the last race.

Brant Dunshea Agrees – Sort Of, In a Very BHA Way

Rather incredibly, the BHA has not immediately dismissed Skelton’s comments, which is progress of sorts. Chief executive Brant Dunshea has bravely conceded that “the progress made so far through our industry strategy has not been enough.”

This is, of course, the racing equivalent of the captain of the Titanic saying “we may have misjudged the iceberg.” It’s an acknowledgment, yes, but it doesn’t exactly scream bold leadership.

Dunshea goes on to say that “this will be the acid test for the governance structure now – can it deliver meaningful change?”

To which the only reasonable response is: well, can it? Because history suggests otherwise. Racing’s administrators have an unrivalled ability to discuss, delay, and dilute every single major decision that crosses their desk. The sport is drowning in bureaucracy, strangled by its own inability to make firm decisions.

Meetings, Committees, and the Art of Talking Without Acting

If you want to understand why racing never changes, listen to Peter Scudamore, a man who has attended more industry meetings than any human should have to.

"There’s a huge frustration. I’ve gone to some of these meetings and committees, and you come out more frustrated and deflated than ever because you go in with the intentions of doing the best for racing, and then you realise everyone’s out for themselves.”

Ah, there it is. The true essence of British racing’s dysfunction. Everyone is busy protecting their own slice of the pie, and nobody is actually looking at the bigger picture.

It’s a sport run by people who see any change as a personal threat, who would rather let the industry slowly wither than concede that perhaps something needs to be done differently.

The Grand National Conundrum: A Battle of Tradition vs. Logic

One of the biggest talking points from Skelton’s call to action is the idea of moving the Grand National to the end of the jumps season.

On the face of it, this makes perfect sense. The Grand National is the one race in Britain that non-racing fans actually watch. It’s the sport’s biggest shop window, the moment when casual punters throw a fiver on a horse because their gran likes the name.

So why not position it as the grand finale, the climax of the jumps season, rather than an oddly placed blockbuster three-quarters of the way through?

Donald McCain, son of legendary trainer Ginger McCain, agrees. “I don’t think this season-end, as it is, works at all. It doesn’t impress in the slightest.”

But, of course, not everyone is on board. The idea of moving the Grand National is met with the usual objections about tradition and Cheltenham being the pinnacle of the season. The counterargument seems to be that this is just the way things are, and therefore, this is the way they must remain.

And there lies the core of racing’s problem. It isn’t logic that drives decision-making; it’s fear of upsetting the old guard.

The Future: A Sport Stuck in Its Own Past

The fundamental issue facing racing isn’t just the Grand National debate or the fixture list; it’s the fact that the sport is competing in a rapidly changing world while still being governed like it’s the 1950s.

The modern sports audience has access to instant highlights, interactive content, and global markets at their fingertips. Racing, meanwhile, still thinks that free racecards and an extra half-hour on ITV4 will solve the crisis.

Dan Skelton is right: decisive action is needed. But if history tells us anything, it’s that decisive action in racing involves six months of meetings, a 200-page report, and, ultimately, no actual decisions.

So here we are, once again, with racing staring down the barrel of irrelevance while the governing bodies reassure us that they’re looking into it.

One day, they might actually do something. But by then, the sport might be a historical curiosity, fondly remembered by the last few remaining racegoers while the rest of the world has moved on.