Racing Doesn’t Have A Character Problem. It Has A Courage Problem.

Every few months somebody in racing asks the same question.

“Why aren’t we attracting new audiences?”

The answer is usually followed by another committee meeting, another marketing campaign, another celebrity ambassador and another expensive report explaining how racing can become more relevant to modern audiences.

Yet nobody seems willing to discuss the uncomfortable truth staring the sport directly in the face.

Racing doesn’t have a marketing problem.

It doesn’t have a social media problem.

It doesn’t have a data problem.

It has a courage problem.

The sport has become so frightened of opinion that it has drained much of the life and personality out of itself.

I know this because I’ve experienced it first hand.

When I first entered racing, one of the things people seemed to like was that I wasn’t from the traditional racing establishment. I wasn’t born into it. I wasn’t part of a racing dynasty. I wasn’t educated through the usual channels.

I was simply a punter who worked hard, studied the sport and earned my place.

Racing talks constantly about wanting new voices.

More working-class voices.

More ordinary people.

More people who can connect with the public.

But there seems to be an unwritten condition attached.

You can come in.

Just don’t rock the boat.

Don’t challenge the status quo.

Don’t say anything too strong.

Don’t upset anyone important.

Don’t have an opinion that falls outside the accepted narrative.

And that’s where the problem starts.

Because sport without opinion is boring.

Football understands this.

Every weekend former players sit in television studios and openly debate managers, tactics, substitutions, refereeing decisions and player performances.

Gary Neville can say Manchester United were dreadful.

Roy Keane can say a player wasn’t good enough.

Jamie Carragher can question a manager’s decisions.

Nobody treats it as a scandal.

It’s called analysis.

It’s called debate.

It’s called sport.

Yet in racing, saying a jockey gave a poor ride can sometimes create more outrage than the ride itself.

How have we reached a point where questioning a tactical decision is considered controversial?

This is elite professional sport.

Participants should absolutely receive praise when they perform brilliantly.

But they should also be open to criticism when they don’t.

That’s how every other major sport operates.

Somewhere along the line, racing confused criticism with disrespect.

They’re not the same thing.

The irony is that racing spends half its time complaining there are no characters anymore.

Well perhaps there are fewer characters because we’ve created an environment where being a character carries consequences.

Have a strong opinion and you’ll upset somebody.

Challenge conventional wisdom and you’ll upset somebody.

Question a ride and you’ll upset somebody.

Question a trainer and you’ll upset somebody.

Challenge the media narrative and you’ll upset somebody.

Eventually people learn the safest route is simply to say nothing.

And that’s exactly what many do.

Listen carefully to a lot of post-race interviews.

They’re often dreadful.

Not because the trainers are boring.

Far from it.

Many trainers are fascinating people with decades of knowledge.

The problem is the interviewing.

Too often the interviewer has already decided what answer they want.

“So you must have been delighted with that performance?”

“It looked like the ground really helped him there?”

“That was always the plan wasn’t it?”

The answer is built into the question.

The trainer simply agrees.

The interview ends.

Nothing is learned.

Nothing is revealed.

Nothing is memorable.

Imagine if journalists interviewed football managers like that.

They’d be laughed out of the room.

The best interviewers don’t lead people.

They let people speak.

They react.

They challenge.

They follow interesting threads.

That’s how information emerges.

That’s how stories are created.

That’s how personalities come alive.

Instead racing often feels trapped in a cycle of manufactured politeness.

Nobody wants to ask the difficult question.

Nobody wants to challenge the obvious narrative.

Nobody wants to risk an awkward moment.

The result is coverage that is safe, sterile and entirely forgettable.

And then the sport wonders why younger audiences aren’t engaging.

Here’s another uncomfortable truth.

Racing has become obsessed with appealing to people who don’t really care about racing.

Meanwhile it often ignores the people who do.

Look at how many marketing campaigns are built around attracting some mythical new audience.

Look at how many resources are spent trying to appeal to people who have never had an interest in the sport.

Yet the existing fanbase often feels completely overlooked.

The average racing fan is not looking for another reality television celebrity.

They are not desperate for another influencer.

They are not crying out for another corporate slogan.

They want honesty.

They want insight.

They want entertainment.

They want somebody prepared to say what everybody else is thinking.

The average racegoer is far more likely to connect with a knowledgeable, opinionated racing person than they are a Z-list celebrity drafted in to tick a marketing box.

Authenticity wins.

It always wins.

And racing continually underestimates that fact.

The sport also has an extraordinary ability to make decisions that seem completely disconnected from the reality of ordinary people’s lives.

Take bank holiday racing.

Who exactly decided that loading the programme onto a Monday was the best way to maximise attendance?

The average working man or woman has spent the entire weekend doing family commitments, socialising, gardening, DIY, children’s activities or perhaps recovering from one too many drinks on a Sunday.

Yet racing often treats the Monday as the centrepiece.

Surely the opportunity is Sunday.

When people are already out.

When families are looking for activities.

When groups are socialising.

When the atmosphere can build naturally.

Instead the sport repeatedly makes decisions from the boardroom rather than from the betting shop, the pub or the racecourse bar.

And perhaps that’s the heart of the issue.

Too many decisions in racing are made by people talking to people who think exactly like themselves.

The sport talks endlessly about attracting ordinary people while continually placing extraordinary barriers between itself and ordinary people.

Then it wonders why growth remains elusive.

The answer isn’t complicated.

People are drawn to stories.

They are drawn to personalities.

They are drawn to conflict.

They are drawn to passion.

They are drawn to authenticity.

The greatest characters in racing history weren’t focus-grouped into existence.

They weren’t media trained into existence.

They weren’t committee approved.

They emerged naturally because they were allowed to be themselves.

Today, many of those personalities would probably be told to tone it down.

Be careful.

Stay on message.

Don’t upset anyone.

And that’s exactly why we don’t produce enough of them anymore.

Racing doesn’t need more polished presenters.

It doesn’t need more carefully crafted marketing campaigns.

It doesn’t need more celebrity endorsements.

It needs more people with knowledge.

More people with personality.

More people with conviction.

More people prepared to say what they genuinely believe.

Because while everybody keeps saying there are no characters left in racing, I suspect the truth is very different.

The characters are still there – my good friend SD being a shining light in recent months – but even I saw the glance he got when “going off script” on Sky Sports by host Dave Ord for asking a question to the guest and trying to bring some improvised humour to the show.

I’ve been there – on shows where you know the atmosphere is lacking and you are passing up good opportunities or some funny comments to create an interesting show just because you must “stay on brand”. It’s bollox. I am all for protecting the brand, but lets have a bit of a laugh shall we?

The characters are there – stacks, in fact, on social media which is a free talent pool in the horse racing industry.

The sport just isn’t brave enough to hand them the microphone.