Cool head in racing's crisis

A query to a British-based colleague on Peter Savill resulted in an instant verdict of "brilliant brain, ruthless bastard and don't mention my name or he'll show you the door". If an image of some JR Ewing-type shark resulted from that it was offset somewhat by the bald, middle-aged reality of the man who lives very happily, thank you, in Wicklow. He didn't even show the door. But only the blind or very foolish could miss the steel behind the easy charm.

The combination is important for a man whose idea of retirement from business is to be chairman of the British Horseracing Board (BHB). Since the BHB is in charge of British racing's money, a diversity of weaponry is important when you're so obvious a target.

"I'm a pretty straight speaking person," Savill allows. "I believe in calling a spade a spade and sometimes that ruffles a few feathers. I find if something is to get done a few feathers sometimes do have to be ruffled."

And the result of that is often flak, but Savill dismisses that and says "flak doesn't bother me at all. I'm not worried about what people write or say about me".

Which is also a pretty important quality for a leading racing politician at a time when racing is in the headlines for some very unusual reasons. Not for nothing have some people had their suspicions confirmed that racing is of more interest to the general public when it's not on than when it is.

But Savill's position is clear. Racing in Britain has to go ahead because science says it can and money says it must. Up to £60 million a month is at stake between the racing and betting industries, and a spectacularly successful business career is proof that Savill knows the value of a pound.

The fact he holds that view from Ireland, where he lives with his wife, three children and the almost de rigueur disinfectant mat at the gate of his Springfield House Stud, shows it's fact rather than emotion that influences him. "Racing and betting are one of the largest industries in Britain in terms of employment, and while we all have lots of sympathy for the farming community, there is no evidence at all of increased transmission of this disease as a result of going racing. It would be irresponsible for me in my position to do anything else but go on the scientific evidence available," he says.

As for the blanket ban on racing in this country, Savill is much too clever to be lured into any criticism of a Government and a Minister for Agriculture for whom he has "the highest regard", and he is careful to point out the obvious greater dependency on agriculture in Ireland. But he rejects the idea of a blanket ban on racing in Britain until the foot-and-mouth crisis has disappeared.

"Maybe we should all stay in bed for six months and that might stop it?" he asks. "It's like trying to cut down on road deaths. The only real way to do that is to stop driving. It's important to find an acceptable level of risk and act accordingly, which we are doing in racing."

And if Savill brings one quality to the party it is decisiveness. The fist inside the velvet is evident in his decision not to give any other fixtures to a racecourse in Britain if it has already called one off due to concerns about the foot-andmouth outbreak. Savill's own base camp is his home in East Wicklow, but even though he says he has effectively retired from a business career that saw him make his fortune from magazine publishing, he still puts in 60-hour weeks for the BHB and regularly spends four days a week in London.

He and his wife decided to settle in Ireland rather than England when he ended 23 years of living in the Caribbean and they have settled in Wicklow for the last two years.

"I wanted to start a high quality stud, and I feel good horses can be raised in East Wicklow just as well as over the mountains! Celtic Silence, who won the Chesham at Royal Ascot and who I then sold to Godolphin, was brought up here, and the ideal is have up to 15 high-class mares," he says.

As an owner, Savill's greatest success was with the 1995 French Derby winner, Celtic Swing, and although in the past he has horses in Ireland with Con Collins, this year is an exception.

"I just don't have the time. It's the circumstances of this job. It's full time, 60 hours a week. But I am getting enjoyment out of it because we are now making the structural decisions that will effect racing for the next 50 years," he says. Typically, his aims roll off the tongue.

"I want racing's income to be at least double what it is now and I want the industry to have a firm financial base. I want a larger percentage of betting turnover and we've got to maximise these new income streams. Racing has an appalling record of giving away rights for peanuts. SIS was the worst case. But the view was `it's more than last time or it's better than nothing at all, so we'll take it'. That attitude has to be changed," he states.

The tensions within British racing momentarily came to the surface last week when Savill's BHB got to hear of the Cheltenham Festival's postponement almost 48 hours late. Savill describes that as unfortunate and "a breakdown in communications", which considering his reputation for plain speaking sounds almost like diplomacy.

But even Savill's fiercest critics would admit he is hardly a one-dimensional character. When the Racing Post ran the notorious "Sad, Mad, Bad" headline that greeted Savill's decision to run Celtic Swing in the French rather than Epsom Derby, the multi-millionaire owner chose to use the criticism to his advantage.

The following year the constant struggle to come up with new names for his string of horses was eased by one. Sad Mad Bad even turned out to be pretty good. No doubt Savill appreciated the irony.