The McCains of Southport

There are those who say that Ginger McCain was an average trainer who got lucky, a Grand National fortunate plodder who fluked a winning ticket with Red Rum, a horse no one wanted.

Whenever this was put to Ginger he just agreed, and he agreed again when his Amberleigh House made it four National victories in 2004. By then, it has to be said, he was getting some help. Son Donald was his assistant.

Donald helped his father to move the training operation 60 miles to the Cholmondeley Castle Estate in Cheshire, still within spitting distance of their favourite track. It was tough for Ginger to leave. ‘I’m a Southport lad and I still miss it, miss the people, miss the sense of humour’.

And he missed Southport beach (‘the best all weather track in the world’) where the salt water seeped through Rummy’s skin, healing a hoof condition. He was unimpressed when, due to the beach being declared a natural habitat for the Natterjack toad, he was warned off. ‘I’ve never seen a Natterjack toad’ was the only printable comment.

In 2006 Donald took over, but 75-year-old Ginger stuck around. Some called them chip-on-the-shoulder northerners as well as fortunate chancers; the pair were often dismissive of jump racing’s obsession with Cheltenham. ‘People are brainwashed’ said Donald recently. ‘Quite often you can go elsewhere for better prize money. We're a northern outfit; my owners want to go to Aintree. It’s a better atmosphere and a better experience’.

Donald claims to be unlike his old man, but committing the heresy of suggesting that there may be better places than Prestbury Park to jump fences suggests he might have inherited more than he thinks (or admits). To Ginger, the spa town was ‘filled with up-nose types in tweeds’.

Unfair and wrong, but Ginger did like annoying people.

Paternal praise has not been much of a factor in Donald’s life. ‘Donald is definitely a better trainer than me’ conceded Ginger, ‘but he has far better material to work with. I started out with a load of cripples’.

‘The way our family has always worked’ commented Donald, ‘is if you do things right, nothing’s said. If you do things wrong, you’ll know about it’.

In 2011 Ballabriggs made it five Grand Nationals for the dynasty; five months later Ginger died aged 81.

Donald described himself as ‘lonely’. He added ‘look, he used to shout and roar and he was quite intimidating at times … everyone saw the stroppy dad, the mouthing-off dad, the saying-too-much dad, but he wasn’t a difficult man’. Then a shrug and a laugh: ‘Actually he was, but …’

Ten years on, Donald was the winning-most trainer in Britain for the second time, with 155 victories. Having a successful father (in this case, the most famous trainer in the world) could have been a burden. McCain the younger followed in footsteps seemingly too huge to fill, but first he matched them (while Ginger was still alive) and now has gone further, with more to come. It’s a feat to impress Sophocles.

On reflection, no luck was involved. Trainers are judged or damned on results and by that harsh measure Ginger was a genius who made a megastar out of a mule.