Sporting Life
The experienced commentator has his say

Simon Holt on Sir Peter O'Sullevan and the art of commentating on the Grand National

By Simon Holt
Horse Racing
Tue April 07, 2026 · 4h ago

For those of a well ripened vintage, the BBC's coverage of the Grand National was an annual treat.

On TV, these were arguably the big race’s glory days when the superb (but reportedly difficult) David Coleman, the wryly relaxed Des Lynam or, later, that complete professional Clare Balding would steer long and often entertaining content on 'Grandstand', the flagship Saturday afternoon sports programme.

After all the enjoyable build-up including a bit of banter between Des and Jenny Pitman, it was down to Sir Peter O’Sullevan, Julian Wilson and John Hanmer to take the runners round two circuits of the then daunting course.

It was a commentary team which blended perfectly, the dry and accurate Hanmer keeping the revs down before handing to Wilson at Bechers. And, while more audibly animated as the field approached the home turn, Hanmer’s earthy tones still left Sir Peter with somewhere to go.

Invariably, the iconic caller found the right words to describe the finish of a horse race watched by millions. O’Sullevan got on well with Hanmer (less so Wilson) and they would sometimes enjoy a drink or two before racing. It is said that, ahead of one broadcast at Ascot, they got through two bottles of champagne which might have been a lot of fun but seems a bit unprofessional.

Socially, Sir Peter was renowned for having a great head for alcohol and, when joined by a few of his disciples for lunch, he was usually the last man above the table. As one regular guest has often said: "You always knew it would go to extra time and penalties”

At his peak, he was tremendously good, especially as he had to call races through large binoculars without reference to a TV monitor of any use at a time when the camera coverage was nowhere near as good as now, and for many years still filmed in black and white.

Growing up with a burgeoning passion for racing in the early Seventies, I could only admire him. He was extremely popular with viewers, performed to audiences that TV producers today can only dream about and became renowned as 'the Voice of Racing.'

I read his columns in the Daily Express, enjoying references to conversations with 'Bert at the Garage' who may or may not have existed, and followed his three tips each day with some success. His journalism was enhanced by some excellent contacts giving him an edge over fellow hacks, and an ability to speak fluent French helped build relationships across the Channel too.

Among other scribes, he was known as the "cat who walks alone."

Personally, it was a privilege to eventually follow in the footsteps of such a great broadcaster on 'Channel4 Racing', though my early days providing the on course commentary alongside Graham Goode, beginning with Little Polveir's win in 1989, produced a few hairy moments and included the void race in which some jockeys continued to race despite a shambolic false start.

We kept going in a manner of hesitant speaking that day, fighting the boos of the crowd.

O’Sullevan had an ambition to call 50 Nationals. I would often stand next to him in the weighing room as we checked the jockeys and their colours beforehand. Every year, he compiled a large crib card upon which he listed every horse with silks and many annotations. It was a work of art and, in later years, these cards would prove popular at charity auctions.

Age was catching up with him a bit when, one year, I asked if he was going to count the void race as one of the 50. Giving me a weary look, he replied: “You bet your life I am.”

Despite so many iconic calls - "you've never heard a reception like it at Liverpool", "the mare's beginning to get up" - Sir Peter kept going too long and I remember watching Wokinghams and Hunt Cups on the TV at home in the 1990s silently begging him to spot a few of the likely winners.

Why did he put himself through it? He must have been terrified.

Hanmer was a help and used to act as 'spotter', though one day he returned from the BBC commentary position into the press room and reported: “Not only is he blind, he’s now deaf as well!”

Eventually O'Sullevan retired at 79 in 1997 and died aged 97 in July, 2015.

Despite his reputation as “the voice....”, not everyone was a fan.

That great wordsmith Alastair Down would often say: “The man has never backed a loser!” He found Sir Peter's modesty a little false and, acerbically, noted how he always seemed to be around, "with nothing else to do" when members of the Royal Family showed up at the races.

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After O’Sullevan's death, Down's tribute was typically well written but laced with a degree of distaste between the lines which seemed a bit unnecessary.

As with the BBC coverage, the course commentators are stationed strategically around the course at Hanmer’s third fence (“the big ditch”) and the Canal Turn. And then of course the high and often very cold position at the top of the grandstand.

'My own moment of terror'

As one of my colleagues once said: "Calling the National is all about damage limitation" as it’s very difficult to keep up with every incident. Nowadays, with the fences far less formidable, there are fewer fallers to describe but, rather stressfully, there are usually more horses in with a chance after the Anchor Bridge Crossing handover to the Grandstand approaching the second last.

Three years ago, charged with calling the finish, the plethora of contenders at this point became a matter of extreme anxiety - and produced my own moment of terror - after earlier protests by the campaign group Animal Rising had put me (I can’t speak for my younger, sharper colleagues Alan Howes and David Fitzgerald) on the back foot.

During the distracting 14 minute delay, while listening to David describe protesters getting onto the course at the Canal Turn through the headset, I lost focus. Eventually, with the course clear of invaders, the horses reappeared in front of the stands and were hurriedly sent towards the starter. Having forgotten quite a few of them, the speed of the dispatch caught me out.

As they crossed the Anchor Bridge, there were at least a dozen horses still with a chance behind the clear leader Mister Coffey and I was cramming names as if my life depended on it.

Then, the favourite Corach Rambler emerged travelling like a winner and, on the long run-in, everything suddenly felt alright.

The sense of relief afterwards was huge.

Commentating on horse races is a mental tightrope. Sir Peter O’Sullevan went close to falling off on several occasions in his old age and, for me during various stages of that 2023 Grand National, a plunge into the Mersey seemed the most likely, ignominious outcome.

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