The horse, retired after being injured on the eve of the big race in , absolutely adored Aintree, bounding around the place like it was a playground, his playground. He was eventually put down in aged 30, and buried at Aintree.
It took 27 frustrating years before McCain was back where you felt he belonged, in the Grand National winners' circle, when Amberleigh House gained the trainer an emotional, and record-equalling, fourth victory in As always, at BBC Radio 5 live we wanted one of the winning team on air as quickly as possible after the race.
I'll never forget the pride at getting a microphone to the successful trainer just 27 seconds the producer timed it after the horse had passed the finishing line. Afterwards, unforgettably, he told us how he walked to Red Rum's grave for a chat after racing, and believed that the winner of , 74 and 77 had opined: "Well done, cock, but that Amberleigh House has got to win a few more to get anywhere near me.
McCain was, of course, best known for Red Rum and Amberleigh House, but also for a catchy if invariably politically incorrect turn of phrase. These were frequently devoured by the media. There were passionate defences of the Grand National when required; famously, a distinct scepticism about female jockeys "broodmares" riding at Aintree; and, lately, all sorts of banter at the expense of his son Donald.
Surprisingly, the extraordinary achievements of Red Rum did not lead to an influx of new owners with expensively bred horses into the McCain yard, and helooked destined to be remembered for just the one horse. But having moved his training operation from Southport to the Cholmondeley estate in Cheshire in , he sent out his fourth Grand National winner, Amberleigh House, in , a training feat matched only by Fred Rimell.
The family's success continued this year, when Ginger's son Donald Jr trained the winner, Ballabriggs. Ginger was well known for speaking his mind, even if some of his attitudes appeared to be of the unreconstructed caveman variety. One of the favourites for the contest was Forest Gunner, ridden by trainer's wife Carrie Ford. When McCain was asked about her chances, he replied: "Carrie is a grand lass, but she's a broodmare now, and having kids does not get you fit to ride in Grand Nationals.
Ginger McCain obituary. One of racing's great characters, he trained the Grand National legend Red Rum. Photograph: PA. In addition to Donald, he is survived by his wife Beryl and daughter Joanne. Her worst fears are realised when Ginger brings out his least favourite word — jockette — but some business with a cup of tea and biscuits distracts and defuses. He's in full flow now, what he calls 'putting his tongue in his cheek' and what the rest of us call 'Ginger being Ginger'.
Racing For Change is given short shrift, a Tote monopoly finds approval, today's jockeys are berated for riding too short and picking up the whip as a first resort.
Do-gooders of any stripe get the undiluted vitriol, the "know-nothing RSPCA", those who prompted his departure from Southport by claiming the beach — "the best all-weather strip in the world" — as the protected habitat of the natterjack toad.
I toss the Grand National back into the conversation, much as one might toss a worm to a piranha, but McCain unexpectedly declines to ride his old hobby-horse. A few years ago odd horses came round for the second circuit — that's not Aintree. You don't climb Everest by taking 10,ft off the top. His uprooting to Cholmondeley, in Cheshire, was a wrench, a thorn that still twists in his side. It was from this base that McCain sent out Amberleigh House to win him a fourth National, although he makes it plain that the victory had as much to do with his son Donald jnr as it did with the old man.
Four years ago he retired, passing on the licence father to son and is delighted that Donald has made such a roaring success of the job. He sells himself very well, he talks far more intelligently than I do.
It's the demotion that bothers me. To go from trainer to assistant trainer, from assistant trainer to tractor driver, tractor driver to toilet attendant, it's a little bit degrading.
I'd like to think there's at least one who'll go down the same road. They're bred into it. Mind you, they never pushed a trolley round the streets collecting horse manure to sell to gardeners, did they?
Perhaps they should have done. It's 45 years since San Lorenzo gave him his first victory, and 70 years have passed since McCain went to his first Grand National, able only to see the jockeys' caps bobbing past as Bogskar galloped to glory. Liverpool and the National have dominated his life and, in turn, his name dominates the history of the great race.
I never aspired to that sort of thing. He's finally finished his sandwich. We have flirted with controversy without becoming too intimately involved with it; Beryl will be relieved. McCain rubs the head of his springer spaniel Ricky and gazes out into the yard, where evening stables have started. If he had his time again, would he do anything differently?
I might refine a couple of things, like everybody would, but I know I'd do it all again. Regrets I've got one serious regret in life — when all those bloody protestors sat down at the start of the National, they should have let the horses go. They wouldn't have been there again. It would have been like the charge of the Light Brigade.
Bloody do-gooders. That does frustrate me. AP McCoy He's a remarkable man. It took me a long time to admit that he's better than Jonjo O'Neill was, but he is. He's the best I've ever seen. Other types of racing All-weather racing is an abomination. It was supposed to be for when everything's frozen off, but now we have to have it every day through the summer.
It's soul-destroying, has no character whatsoever and is purely for the bookmakers. You can stick French racing up your arse as well. I've only been once and I couldn't wait to get back to Cartmel. Carrie Ford Horses do not win Grand Nationals ridden by women. Carrie Ford is a broodmare now, and having kids does not get you fit to ride in Nationals.
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