'Legacy is nothing, it's bollocks, nobody will remember me in decades to come' - inside the mind of Sir Mark Prescott
The legendary master of Heath House opens up to Lee Mottershead
This interview by Lee Mottershead was originally published in August exclusively for Racing Post Members' Club subscribers and has been made free to read for users of the Racing Post app as our Sunday Read.
With only one week to go before the 2023 Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, we get inside the mind of last year's winning trainer Sir Mark Prescott, who memorably struck with Alpinista 12 months ago.
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Laid out on a tray in the kitchen are a teapot, two dainty cups with saucers and tempting slices of chocolate cake. Sir Mark Prescott carries the tray into the sitting room of his home at Heath House Stables, settles into a chair and begins to talk. Rest assured, he is in spectacular form.
Helpfully, he has spent time considering the brief. The purpose of the conversation is to go inside the mind of a trainer whose triumph with Alpinista in last year's Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe brought joy to so many. Prescott has sat down in front of countless voice recorders but this latest brief demands of him deep introspection. Not surprisingly, he proves to be the perfect subject, his words coming laden with insight, sincerity, laughter and tears.
Prior to the record button being pressed there had been chat about delays on the M25, talk of a recent weekend trip to watch bullfights and a wander down memory lane as Prescott told stories about his late friend Graham Rock, the Racing Post's founding editor and owner of Pasternak, who most famously landed a colossal gamble in the 1997 Cambridgeshire. That sort of bookie-bashing handicap coup is among the things synonymous with a 75-year-old who has been training from his treasured Newmarket base since taking over from mentor Jack Waugh more than half a century ago. Now, however, he is partly defined by what happened in Paris last October.
On seeing Vadeni chase home Alpinista, the runner-up's trainer Jean-Claude Rouget wept uncontrollably, not through sadness but delight. His happiness at seeing Prescott's name placed on the honour roll of Europe's most prestigious Flat race was shared far and wide. It was the greatest moment in a marathon career, one Prescott continues to approach with relish and absolutely no sense of post-Arc anti-climax.
"I've always been able to enjoy training horses, the good, the bad and the indifferent," says Prescott. "I love it. I find a fascination in it. I don't know how you can be interested for so long in something so utterly unimportant – and I do realise it's unimportant, but it's important to us."
What becomes apparent as our conversation flows is the significance to Prescott of the sport's importance to others, particularly on those occasions that leave an indelible mark on a person's memory. Alpinista's Arc undoubtedly ticked that box for owner-breeder Kirsten Rausing, jockey Luke Morris, groom Annabel Willis and Prescott's long-serving assistant and business partner William Butler, the faithful servant who one day will become master of Heath House. It was, however, Prescott who stole the show.
"Just for the day," he says, immediately attempting to play down his celebrity status. "When we were on the podium, I looked out and told myself I had to remember it all. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it and, yes, I was touched by people's reaction. I read William saying it was like getting a rock star out of a concert. I'm sure that's an exaggeration but it was a great feeling."
More than anything, he was struck by what it meant to the woman who had also just won her first Arc. The same woman was also the reason Prescott travelled to France having spent the summer warning he might stay at home and concentrate on the following week's bloodstock sales.
"I think I was always going to go because Miss Rausing was always going to be hurt if I didn't go," says Prescott, whose mind returns to a scene that moves him even now.
"It's hard to get a taxi at Longchamp and by the time we left there was a long queue," he says.
"Miss Rausing was walking up front with her bloodstock agent and I was trotting along behind with William. Then, as she got to the taxi rank, all the people started to applaud her. As she moved past the queue, the applause followed her all the way."
There is a pause as Prescott seeks to control his emotions. There will be number of similar pauses over the coming minutes.
"Miss Rausing has got everything," he explains. "She has certainly got a lot, anyway." There is another short break before he adds: "I think it's lovely to see someone who has achieved what they want to achieve."
Therein lies the nub of it all.
"The best thing Rock ever wrote was about Pasternak winning the Cambridgeshire," says Prescott, the change of subject intentional but linked firmly to the same theme. "He said in this article that as he was driving home past fields and trees that were brushed with autumn colours, the magic of the moment kept flashing before his eyes. He wrote the words: 'I remember thinking that I could die a happy man. Nothing has changed since.'"
There is another pause and another attempt to maintain his composure.
"It's a great gift, isn't it," he says. "To have been lucky enough be able to give that to somebody, to have given them their best day – if you have done that for two people, well, that'll do, really."
The cake has barely been eaten but already it has been established that inside Prescott's mind is the drive to bring pleasure to others. A repeated attempt to focus his attention on the affection others feel for him is quickly batted away.
"I suppose I've been around a long time, I think that's it," he says. "I can think of a number of trainers who were tough so-and-sos when they were young but, in the end, we all end up loving them."
An anecdote is arriving.
"Nobody loved Ryan Price when he was 45 or 50 but we all loved him in the end," he says. "There's a wonderful story about a time when Ryan was looking ill and we kept telling his wife, Dorothy, that she had to get him to see a doctor. After she eventually managed it, we rang and asked how things had gone.
"'Terrible,' she said, explaining how Ryan flung himself into the passenger seat after he left the doctor. 'F****** useless,' he said to Dorothy. 'He said to me that I've got ulcers. I told him I give ulcers. I don't get them.'"
Prescott roars with laughter. "I don't see parallels between the two of us but if you can hang on long enough, people will warm to you," he says before leading the way out into the yard, where the evening stables routine takes Prescott from one box to the next. He greets the staff member waiting with each horse and runs a hand across the animal's coat before checking the condition of every leg.
"This is one of our massive Heath House productions," he says when entering the home of a gigantic two-year-old.
"What I don't like is that he's very bright. When they walk in from the heath as yearlings for the first time, we encourage them to stop and pick grass, which he did. It was pouring with rain the next day, so we decided not to stop, but he walked off to where he had picked grass.
"Horses as bright as that aren't often very good because they see through it too quickly. You don't want them thinking. You just want them to get on with it. Alpinista was intelligent but she wasn't always trying to do what she wanted to do. She was happy to go along with the school outing."
Assuming Prescott persuades the juvenile to follow instructions, one might expect him to run three times this year without troubling the judge before embarking on a middle-distance handicap campaign next season, very possibly as a red-hot favourite. Plenty of them tend to win, a fine recent example being Golden Shot, returned at 50-1, 125-1 and twice at 250-1 in four novice outings over seven furlongs. ("The handicapper must not have given us a mark after the third one," suggests Prescott.) Following a ten-month absence, and sent off the evens favourite, he won a Southwell 1m6f September handicap by three and a quarter lengths.
"Everybody always thinks there is some awful plot," says Prescott. "That's only because they believe the trainer is a villain. When one of the horses starts at a short price, I always say to the owner: 'They don't trust you, that's the trouble.'"
Prescott insists there is nothing questionable about his approach and explains that the yearlings he buys are often too large to fulfil their potential at two. "I've never been embarrassed about training a winner," he says. "That's my job. Nobody can say I'm cheating because the horse has been thoroughly exposed and everybody knows what sort of horse he is. If there is a stewards' inquiry, I always point out I wouldn't have kept the horse if I didn't think he would improve. You can't help having bad two-year-olds but a so-called middle- or upper-class trainer shouldn't have bad three-year-olds.
"Look at Golden Shot. He is 17 hands high. With a horse like that, you have to ask yourself if it's all going to come together. It's an act of faith, but I normally get it right. I sell a few each year who haven't shown me enough and I can't think of one who has gone on to win four or five races."
Prescott also makes clear that when one of his horses has been heavily backed, his own money will almost certainly not have been involved.
"If the owner backs the horse, I never do," he says. "I've never liked betting. I regard it entirely as ancillary to the business. It provides an added disaster when things go wrong. Betting gives me no buzz, except for the buzz I have for my owners."
Back in the house it's also back to seeking a better understanding of a trainer whose owners now include the King and Queen. Unlike their trainer, the royal couple probably do not get up at 3.30am. They probably also have a more varied diet, with Prescott confirming all the stories about cold baked beans are true. This does not necessarily come as a shock, for while his kitchen is full of photographs, it looks a tad short of modern appliances.
"I never go out to eat unless somebody is here," he says. "I always have cold baked beans for supper and I always enjoy it. I have them with two bits of burnt toast, a bowl of cornflakes and an apple or orange. Breakfast is one bit of burnt toast and a bowl of All-Bran. Lunch is exactly the same as supper. If I'm really pushing the boat out, I might have tomato soup. It takes me 11 minutes to prepare, eat and wash up each meal."
Food is not important to Prescott. Nor is money. Only £5,000 of his Arc prize-money was spent on himself. That went on fresh turf for his lawn. The rest of the windfall was used up buying a car for Butler, a new horsebox and on preserving the life of the Heath House swimming pool.
"I'm not motivated by money in the slightest," he stresses. "I just want to keep this place going. Mr Waugh virtually gave it me and I've always felt I ought to do the same for somebody. I would like it to go on and get better.
"Legacy is nothing. It's bollocks. Nobody remembers anybody or anything. Nobody will remember me in decades to come but I would like Heath House still to be going. I absolutely love this place. It has always been a sanctuary to me. When I come in, however bad the day, it's quiet and I'm on my own. To me, that has been an enormous advantage."
Reference to that appreciation of solitude triggers another question Prescott again readily answers.
"I never wanted to have a family," he stresses. "I don't have in me that thing most people possess, the desire to have children and to give them a better, easier life than you had. I've got a title I inherited and no feeling of guilt that nobody else will have it.
"William is a thoroughly good man but I don't regard him as a son. It's better that I don't. I had a wonderful relationship with my stepfather because we owed each other nothing. I liked him because I liked him."
There was a similarly powerful bond between Prescott and Waugh. Indeed, his gratitude for the man who did for him what he will do for Butler is immense. Waugh shaped Prescott's life, how he lives, how he trains and how he thinks.
"Everybody knows good horses make good trainers and good jockeys – what they often forget is they ruthlessly expose bad ones," says Prescott, repeating one of Waugh's pearls of wisdom. "Whenever I've been lucky enough to get a good horse, I hear that voice from Mount Olympus."
Prescott's own voice now displays how much Waugh meant to him. That becomes ever truer when he recalls the many visits he made to his dying former boss in hospital.
"I owe him so much," says Prescott. "Almost the last time I saw him, he still looked marvellously well. He said to me: 'You see, Mark. All I've ever been is a professional trainer – but I'm enormously proud to have been one.'"
Prescott is now more moved than at any point in our time together.
"It's difficult to know what he meant, really," he explains. "It's a very deep remark. Does it mean, 'All I ever was was a professional trainer', or does it mean, 'All I was was a trainer who was professional'? I've always thought the second of those is what he meant. He really was a very professional trainer. He prided himself on it and I think he taught me that without ever having to say it. It's a proper remark."
It has been a fruitful trip to Heath House, one in which Prescott has taken us inside both his own mind and that of his old governor.
"He was an interesting man, a very complex man and an acquired taste but I was absolutely devoted to him," he says. "When I set out to train, I wanted everybody to be afraid of me. If I had a runner, I wanted every trainer going through that race for his finger to stop when he got to my horse. I probably got that from Jack Waugh."
There is much else Prescott got from Waugh but he is nonetheless his own man, one who offers something else worth adding to the pot as the interview draws to a close.
"I don't think I've ever been jealous in my life," he says. "Jealousy causes more unhappiness than anything else. Not being jealous might well make you less competitive but it certainly makes you happier. If I had been jealous I would certainly have been a different trainer. The only person I'm ever competitive with is me."
And so, as we end our 'inside the mind' interview, how does he think a psychiatrist would sum him up?
"I'm very lucky to have my portrait in the Jockey Club Rooms," he says. "People ask me if I think it's good. I can't possibly say. You can't know what you're like but, equally, only you can judge whether you've been a success or failure because you're the only one who knows what you've wanted from life.
"I remember a great friend of mine saying to me that his trouble was he had been far too tolerant. I've never met a less tolerant man in my life. That has always haunted me since. Are we all as inaccurate about ourselves?"
Perhaps, then, it is down to the rest of us to judge Sir Mark Prescott. If so, he need have no fear of what that judgement would be.
Read more Sunday Reads:
Jamie Spencer: 'It would have been like going to jail for something you hadn't done'
Leonna Mayor: 'People have no idea what my life has been like - I've no reason to be ashamed'
Subscribe to Racing Post Members' Club Ultimate Monthly and pay just £9.99 per month for your first two months!
Available to new subscribers purchasing Ultimate Monthly using code SUMMER. First two payments charged at £9.99, renews at full monthly price thereafter. To cancel please contact us at least seven days before subscription is due to renew. Offer expires 30/09/2023.
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