Fantastic Frankel lights up York with electrifying Juddmonte win

However there was nothing lucky about the fantastic Frankel’s seven-length victory in the £725,000 Juddmonte International – York’s richest-ever race. His burst of acceleration two furlongs out left racegoers speechless.

There were some nagging questions about whether this horse of a lifetime would stay the one-and-a-quarter mile trip. Not a bit of it. Now there’s talk of Frankel tackling the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe, Europe’s marquee race over even further, because jockey Tom Queally had so much difficulty in pulling up this four-year-old horse of a lifetime.

If this was not the greatest equine performance that has been witnessed on the Knavesmire which first hosted racing in 1731, it was certainly the most anticipated – Frankel’s phenomenal victory eclipsed by the emotional reception for his cancer-stricken trainer Sir Henry Cecil, pencil thin under a black Panama hat.

Painfully gaunt, but with a twinkle in his eye as he patted his stable superstar who is named after the legendary American trainer Bobby Frankel, a relieved Cecil whispered: “That was great, wasn’t it? “It’s fantastic. It’s great for Yorkshire, they are very supportive of racing and they deserve to see him.”

Asked how it made him feel, the trainer said: “Twenty years better.”

His voice was so fragile that the packed paddock hardly heard a syllable. But they appreciated the sentiment and responded in kind; first with ‘three cheers’ for Frankel and then ‘three cheers’ for racing’s great knight. It was then repeated for good measure, Cecil gently doffing his hat in acknowledgement.

Frankel fever had enveloped York – staging it’s first-ever £1m prize day – hours before the 3.40pm off. Racegoers swarmed to the paddock to secure the best vantage point, many waving ‘Go Frankel’ flags resplendent in the green, pink and white colours of the horse’s owner Prince Khalid Abdullah who, in a quirk of coincidence, is the figurehead of the Juddmonte breeding operation which had the privilege of sponsoring York’s signature race.

A frail man, he slipped almost unnoticed into the paddock as Frankel – the white markings on his feet even more distinctive in the flesh – emerged from the saddling area to respectful applause and thousands of clicking cameras. Even Brendan Foster, the BBC’s voice of athletics, was there to witness history. “I’ve seen all the great athletes. Now I want to see the best racehorse ever, the only one capable of beating Usain Bolt or Mo Farah,” he told me.

A reverential crowd cheered as the starting stalls burst open, the three pacemakers were in a race of their own and several lengths ahead of the six main protagonists headed by Aidan O’Brien’s Breeders’ Cup hero St Nicholas Abbey who would have been a very worthy winner. Their brief was simple; to try and expose any chinks in the peerless Frankel’s stamina. None were to be found.

As the field bunched up turning for home, Queally was motionless, sneaking up the inner of St Nicholas Abbey – a top class racehorse in his own right – who, by now, was sending out distress signals.

And then, as the two furlong poll approached, Queally asked his mount to pick up. The result was electrifying – a seven-length victory at prohibitively short odds of 1-10 on. It had to be seen to be believed.

As Frankel returned to the winner’s enclosure, racing’s luminaries gathered to lead the ovation.

O’Brien’s horse, just pipped for second by Frankie Dettori’s Farrh, had run with honour – but the Irish trainer, who was won virtually every race and who has been likened to a genius himself, said he had never experienced a “spine-tingling” occasion like this on a racecourse.

“It’s so good for racing and Sir Henry. He’s the greatest,” said a gracious O’Brien of both the winning horse and trainer.

Covered in sweat, even though he was a passenger for the two minute, six second race that he’ll remember for a lifetime, Queally’s face was etched with relief as he gave an eloquent post-race debrief.

“The Yorkshire public wanted to see him – and Frankel didn’t let them down,” he said.

“Every man and his dog seemed to want to put their penny’s worth in to say where he should run, but for him to make it 13 out of 13 speaks for itself.

“He was electric. He settled well. He was on a nice even keel ... every moment on his back is special.”

As Frankel was led back to the unsaddling area, there was hardly a bead of sweat on his coat. He didn’t even look like he had been in a race, certainly not one that saw him gallop into the unknown in order to prove, beyond doubt, that he is the best in the world. There was a final ovation as Frankel took his leave of Yorkshire’s racing faithful.

Perhaps the most pogignant moment came when Richard Pitman, the former jump jockey who recently donated a kidney to a transplant patient, embraced Cecil.

“It really lifts the spirits. Congratulations,” he said.

Cecil’s hushed reply?

“Thank you. I will never forget this day.”

Neither will anyone who was present to witness Frankel, a horse in a million and – quite probably – the greatest of all time. He was that good.