'I didn't take too many prisoners - I fired three people the day I started'

On his 75th birthday, we've republished this brilliant interview with Sir Mark Prescott from late July 2022, when it was originally published for Members' Club Ultimate subscribers as part of a week-long series called If I Knew Then...

If I Knew Then... was a week-long series in which we talked to famous racing figures about regrets, lessons learned and mistakes made in life. In part one, racing writer of the year Lee Mottershead talked to the Newmarket trainer about early days, assistant trainers and a moment of youthful folly. To read more great articles from our award-winning team of journalists, subscribe to the Members' Club Ultimate Monthly package today.

As Sir Mark Prescott looks back on his story so far, the regrets can be counted on one hand.

There are things he might like not to have said and races he would love to have won, but one of those races might yet come his way, and firm friendships have been formed with many of those he once terrified. There will, however, never be a chance to make amends with the young girl from the dance in County Kildare.

When in the company of Prescott, you listen. You should also look. He is racing's raconteur supreme, a man blessed with the ability to hold you tight like a walnut in its shell as he dips into that precious vault of anecdotes. He is doing that now, but as he responds to the brief of considering what bits of his life he might like to erase or revise, his glare is fixed into the distance, his face a picture of thoughtfulness.

Prescott has already expressed disappointment that a British Classic has hitherto proved elusive and explained how, given a second crack at childhood, he would have been a more agreeable boy at school.

Sir Mark Prescott, pictured on Warren Hill in December last yearCredit: Edward Whitaker

"I was horrible to everybody," he says, claiming the unpleasantness proved costly, given some of the people who experienced his youthful malevolence eventually became affluent racehorse owners with practically everyone but him. "In later life," he then adds, "the only things I really regret are those occasions when I've been unkind to people, whether intentionally or not."

It is when asked if he is haunted by any particular episodes that Prescott becomes more doleful than at any point in our long conversation.

"Yes I am," he says immediately. "I remember leaving a girl at a dance at the Lawlor's ballroom in Naas. I had ridden a winner and it was my big day. There was a pretty girl with long blonde hair in a purple miniskirt. I wound up taking her home instead.

"I drove back later to pick up the girl I had brought. Everybody had gone and it was pouring with rain. There were just a few cars in a car park full of potholes. All the balloons were burst and glasses had been broken. There was the girl in the almost empty car park with no way of getting home. I went over and offered her a lift back.

"Oh, the things that we do. It's something I regret very much."

It is the sort of thing he would never have done when older. When deserting his companion he was a teenage jump jockey. In no time at all, although he did not then know it, he would spend time studying the art of training with Sid Kernick, Frank Cundell and Jack Waugh, the old school governor of Heath House who Prescott succeeded in 1970 when just 22 years old. The current master has been in charge for more than half a century. He shows no sign of considering retirement.

Sir Mark Prescott works in his office at Heath House StablesCredit: Edward Whitaker

"When I came to Newmarket the backstreets were impoverished," says Prescott. "There were no inside loos and windows were stuck together with Sellotape. There wasn't even central heating in this house. Mr Waugh did eventually get something installed but he was very tough and loved it to be cold.

"Our secretary, George Reeve, used to cycle in during the winter. He would arrive in his trilby, overcoat and mittens, walk into the office and take off his hat but nothing else. He sat doing his work in that overcoat and mittens because there was no difference in the temperature inside or outside."

Prescott continues: "When Mr Waugh went away, his wife, a lovely woman called Mildred, shut all the windows and went into the office, where there was a thermostat. She used to switch it on with delight. On his final day here, Mr Waugh said he wanted to tell me the location of the thermostat. I thanked him very much but explained I already knew it was in the office. 'No, no,' he said. 'I just put that there for madam. The one that works is under the stairs.'"

He lets out a mighty laugh but returns to being more contemplative when asked if Waugh had delivered any further parting advice.

"It was November and drizzly," says Prescott, reimagining the scene with near crystal clarity. "He came into the yard and said to me, 'Now then, boy. I wish you well. You'll be fine. Just remember, if you're conscientious, every time you have a runner, a little bit of you goes down to the start with the horse. In the end, there's nothing of you left.'

"I remember it so vividly. I could even show you where I was standing. He was right as well. My hands always sweat before a race, even before we run a no-hoper. I'm always worrying about everything but my level of worry is basically the same, regardless of how big or small a race might be."

The Sir Mark Prescott-trained Alpinista following her win in the Grand Prix de Saint-CloudCredit: Scott Burton

A distinctly big one recently came his way when Alpinista became a Group 1 winner for the fourth time in the Grand Prix de Saint-Cloud. Should all go well, the five-year-old – from a Kirsten Rausing family packed full of major Prescott-trained winners – will contest the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.

It would be the most prestigious prize ever won by a legendary Flat racing figure famed for his shrewdness and feared equally by handicappers and bookmakers. He was once also famed for terrifying those prospective trainers who came to him for an education that served them exceptionally well.

"I was pretty tough in the early days," he admits. "I didn't take too many prisoners. I fired three people the first day I started. They were bullies, horrible bullies. I don't think Mr Waugh had realised how horrible they were."

It was quite a move for a man younger than all but one of his employees and almost half the age of the next youngest trainer in racing's home town.

"The other trainers here hated me, really hated me," he says with feeling. "That said, there were four Waughs and four Jarvises in Newmarket, all inter-married, and they all hated each other. Because of my youth they tried to make things very difficult for me. Then along came Henry Cecil, Michael Stoute and Luca Cumani, by which point those older trainers realised they couldn't hate everybody."

They probably also struggled to understand some of the things he was doing. In 1971 Prescott sent a gelding called Biretta on the then appalling road journey to Britain's highest racecourse. "He was the first Newmarket runner at Bath since the war," recalls Prescott, who has similarly strong memories of the time when sensible trainers spent Thursdays with their heads in the newly delivered edition of the Racing Calendar.

Sir Mark Prescott follows second lot at the top of Warren Hill in NewmarketCredit: Edward Whitaker

Back then, different handicappers looked after different meetings and allocated different weights, meaning your horse could be better treated at Lingfield than Leicester. It was also a time when handicaps closed four weeks in advance of the races being run. Thursdays therefore mattered, so much so that Cundell insisted his wife and children vacated the family home for four hours from 5.45pm. Sometimes, however, the lady of the house wished to make a point.

"There was one particular occasion when things were getting tense because we could see Douai was pretty well in at Nottingham," says Prescott. "Suddenly, the door burst open and in came Mrs Cundell, a very fiery woman who was seemingly upset about Mr Cundell having complained that the office had been dirty.

"'You said it wasn't clean, so I'm going to f****** hoover it,' she said and started using the vacuum cleaner furiously, right under his feet. Mr and Mrs Cundell, who regularly swore at each other, both became so cross they forgot I was there. After a while, he lay down on the floor with his arms and legs outstretched. As she was banging the hoover into him he ripped the wire out of the socket. 'You bastard!' she said, and then pulled an attachment out of the hoover and sucked up all his pens and pencils from the desk.

"With the job done, she left the room, slamming the door as she went. The very first words Mr Cundell then said were: 'Douai, nine-stone-seven.'"

The punchline is delivered to perfection and laughter ensues. We are sat with crisps and a refreshing lime drink in a room filled with photographs Prescott himself took to portray the perfect bullfight. Some of those who preceded the now long-time assistant trainer William Butler – like Prescott, he has now spent more than half his life at Heath House – probably knew how the bulls felt.

"William Haggas once said I was the most unpleasant person he had ever met," says Prescott. "I don't regard that as a compliment. I rather overdid it in his case, but I always wanted to make people better, rather than bollock or sack them, and most of the ones I've had here remain on very good terms with me. Having said that, when we're at the sales they always regale me with how awful I was.

"Simon Crisford and David Loder were here at the same time. David used to steal the biscuits out of the kitchen. Simon was so terrified I would count the biscuits, he used to replace them."

Sir Mark Prescott (right) walks back in with Belle Royale

The name of another past assistant then pops into his head.

"I was always aware if people fiddled around with things on my desk and I knew Adrian Lee, a most lovely man, did exactly that," he says. "While I was at the Waterloo Cup, he used to wait in the office for me to ring after evening stables, and as I was away for my birthday, lots of cards were piled up on my desk. There was one from Aunty Aggie, one with undying love from Samantha, and so on.

"Poor Adrian was waiting for me to ring, and as he got to the 15th card in the pile, he read one that said: 'Adrian, mind your own f****** business!'"

Just like employees, some owners have also incurred the wrath of Prescott, who famously once turned down an offer to train for Sheikh Mohammed, adamant he had no desire to leave Heath House or expand his string beyond 50 horses.

"I've reached the stage where I'm only just able to fill the yard, and my owners are getting old, but I don't regret the decision," he says. Nor does he regret having fired three owners.

Edward St George was dismissed after making erroneous accusations about the shortening in price of a horse lined up for a gamble. (It transpired his brother, Charles, had tipped off a bookmaker.) A Mrs Hammond was handed the reins of her animal at Kempton having spoken rudely to George Duffield, for 30 years Prescott's stable jockey.

Duffield was also central to the severance of ties with future British Horseracing Board chairman Peter Savill. The latter had told Duffield he would give him a lift in his plane. When Savill then delayed the departure – putting at risk Duffield's appointment on a Prescott-trained runner – and addressed the veteran rider in a manner that was received as objectionable, Duffield floored him.

Sir Mark Prescott entertains the Riding A Dream Academy scholars in Newmarket

"Peter rang up and said if George didn't apologise by 12 o'clock he would send Geoff Lewis to collect his horses," says Prescott. "I explained to Peter that nobody had ever blackmailed me and I wasn't going to start with him. I told him if he didn't collect his horses by 12 o'clock, I would turn them out on the road.

"I then rang George and asked him what had happened. It was at this point he explained he had bopped Savill one. Geoff's box arrived at ten to 12."

Even without Savill – they now get on well – Prescott makes 59 individual phone calls to owners and part-owners every Sunday. One of them is sadly no longer the redoubtable former boxing promoter Josephine Abercrombie, whose Hasten To Add landed the 1994 Ebor Handicap under Duffield as a well-backed favourite. She died at the age of 95 in January and features as a character in many a Prescott tale.

"She used to ring just before Christmas," he says fondly. "The last time I spoke to her, I said: 'Now, Mrs A, how are you?' We exchanged pleasantries and talked about the season, before she asked: 'How are the girlfriends?' I replied by saying that numbers were okay but they were very old.

"She then said: 'Don't tell me about it. I've been down to one ski instructor for three years.'"

Sir Mark Prescott: "I've been lucky to have nice people around me"Credit: Edward Whitaker

He laughs again and confirms the story can be used in this interview. Some stories are much more poignant, not least the one about the final conversation with his dying father, who advised the child about the importance of good health, a good job and good company. His son retains all three.

"I've been lucky to have nice people around me," he says. "The big thing about having a small stable is, by and large, you can employ people you like and work for people you like. As soon as it gets bigger, you are forced to compromise on those two things. Why would you want to work all hours with horrible people and for horrible people? I think that's why I've been able to retain enthusiasm for the job."

It's a job he plainly still adores – even if he might yet choose to watch Alpinista's Arc bid from home.

"That would be sales week, so I wouldn't feel compelled to go, but I certainly couldn't not see her do a piece of work or be around to feel her legs," he points out, neatly summing up a philosophy he still wakes with at 3.30am each day.

"I would have liked to have trained a Classic winner," he admits. "I said to someone the other day that if I had known when I was starting off I would have a portrait in the Jockey Club Rooms, I would have been so proud. I also said if I had known I wasn't going to train an English Classic winner, I would have been so horrified. It's ups and downs.

"I should have been nicer to some people along the way and I should have trained an English Classic winner. Those are the regrets."

Now, as he returns to regrets, he once again sounds like a man very much at one with his emotions and unafraid to show them.

"I start crying from the first seconds of Goodbye Mr Chips and Brief Encounter," says Prescott. "I also cry when I think about people who have been good to me. I never cry if something goes wrong. Never ever. I can cry for somebody else. I can't cry for me."

A little while earlier, when talking about the jilted girl in Naas, there was just a suggestion a tear might not have been too far from the surface. That, and the mere fact he clings on to a misdemeanour many others would have long since forgotten, conveys all you need to know about the fine man the boy became. 

It would be so lovely if he could win that British Classic.

Read these next:

Tom Scudamore: 'I'll miss everything - but other than getting in a time machine I can't do anything about it' 

Paul Nicholls v Johnny Dineen: the champion trainer and outspoken punter face off 

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