Varenne was a defibrillator for the dying giant that was horse racing. But he didn’t save it

Varenne was like a defibrillator applied to the body of horse racing. “A body that was almost entirely dead – indeed, Varenne had retired – or rather, all the hype surrounding Varenne’s victories; that massive figure that had tried to revive itself, and at times had even given the impression of having succeeded, has collapsed once more. And this time, for good,” Raul Santini tells "Il Foglio". He has been deeply involved in horse racing for a long time, having been part of its history for over forty years – starting out looking after horses, then often veering off into a fascinating and complicated world that is far from straightforward.

Raul Santini grew up with horses. First as a “handyman on a hacienda in Santa Cruz de Mara (north of Maracaibo, Venezuela, ed.), where my grandparents had arrived from the Bergamo area in search of fortune”. And he has spent almost his entire life with horses. A life much like horse racing itself – far from straightforward. “I had a passion for horses – in fact, an obsession with them. Perhaps because, as a child, I nearly died from a tick bite. The fact is, I worked as a farrier, found myself driving a sulky, and won a few races. And after winning them, I had the idea – which turned out to be an incredible stroke of luck, given how things turned out in Venezuela – to return to Italy. I went to Milan and worked as a driver for a few more years. Then I moved to Rome to work as a driver’s trainer. I made a bit of money and invested it in horses. I had an incredible few years – loads of money, the high life – then I went bust miserably. I started working as a bookmaker, got back on my feet, and made loads more money because in those days, with horses – and especially around horses – you could make a fortune,” he says.

Money was flowing between Tor di Valle and Capannelle. It was the very early 1970s, ‘and if you were shrewd and knew what you were doing, horse racing was a sort of fast track to wealth’. Do you remember ‘Febbre da cavallo’? ‘That’s a completely different story, because by the time the film came out, the system was already creaking at the seams. The screenwriters Alfredo Giannetti, Steno and Enrico Vanzina talk about those addicted to betting. On the other side were those who knew their way round the business; some of them built up a fortune. But sometimes – often, in fact – you needed a thick skin.” Raul Santini says he had it. “With betting, you either fell victim to it or exploited it; I was always more afraid of losing than hopeful of winning, so I never placed a bet. But I was part of that world, on the other side of the fence. I was involved in all the circles, actually, because I knew a thing or two about horses – I’d grown up amongst them, I knew how to do everything with them, from fitting their shoes to soothing their nerves and muscles, right through to getting them to race. Then you needed a bit of luck and a connection with those who had the real money.”

Raul Santini recounts that the big turning point came when a car was blown up. Lavitola didn’t make any of it up. “I spread the rumour that it had been the Marseillais. Those were the years when the Marseillais were planning to take over Rome, and I’d met a couple of them on several occasions, but only to talk about horses, nothing else. The fact is, my car burnt out – an Alfa Romeo Montreal coupé, a marvellous car. I let everyone know it was their doing. I never understood why it burnt out, but it certainly wasn’t a warning or anything like that; in fact, Alfa even reimbursed me: a technical fault, they said.” The rumour, however, began to spread. “And I made a name for myself. And when you make a name for yourself in certain circles, you make a lot of money too.” Not all of it was clean. “I even ended up in the slammer because of horse racing.” He doesn’t want to say why, but it had to do with betting. “I spent a few months in Regina Coeli, but it was a good thing because they started treating me like a proper Roman and not like half-Venezuelan, half-Bergamasque. In short, I’d climbed those infamous three steps...”

He was released from Regina Coeli just as the crisis had already begun. “Whether you went to Capannelle or Tor di Valle, San Siro or Agnano, it was a dismal sight. Half-empty stands, people with the shadow of past glories etched on their faces. Horse racing in the 1990s was on its last legs; it seemed on the verge of collapse. Then Varenne arrived.”

Varenne was the greatest trotter of all time. He died on Tuesday 18 August at the age of thirty-one. Varenne managed to reignite a nation’s passion for horse racing. “And it spelled disaster for many who, up until then, had been scraping by on the back of that increasingly flaccid and moribund behemoth that was horse racing,” explains Raul Santini. He adds: “I was falling into that trap myself. I was ready to reinvest, to give up the riding school to put together a new racing team. Then, luckily, my wife told me it wasn’t right to throw my son’s future down the drain just to try and make more money. She told me that my life was the horses, looking after them. That my heart beat for them, not for a fancier car or a villa. I decided, for once, to listen to her. I still thank her for it. I realised then that I’d lost my instinct and my knack for the business.”

Varenne’s era was the last golden age of horse racing. “And by a hair’s breadth, I nearly found myself right in the chasm that Varenne left behind. Of course, horse racing endures; the races are still marvellous, but they’re not quite the same as they used to be. It survives. It is steeped in melancholy, a world that looks to the past and no longer to the future. Like cycling was until a few years ago. Then came van der Poel, van Aert, Pogačar and the rest, and we started looking to the future again. But now the future has vanished. Now Varenne is dead too, and we continue to yearn for the past”.

Horses are another matter altogether. The gap between horses and horse racing is widening all the time. “There are still riding schools, and people still love horses. They buy them, look after them and care for them. They’ve forgotten about the races. Perhaps that’s not entirely a bad thing.”