The announcement this week from Cheltenham Racecourse has sent shockwaves through the National Hunt racing community, igniting a fierce debate about the soul of the sport’s crown jewel: the Cheltenham Festival. In a bid to refine the four-day extravaganza set for March 2026, organizers revealed a reshuffle of the race programme, most notably shifting the Grade One Close Brothers Mares’ Hurdle from its traditional Tuesday slot—Champion Day—to Thursday’s card. Accompanying tweaks include adjustments to starting positions for longer-distance races and revised field size limits aimed at enhancing safety and spectacle. But while these modifications are framed as evolutionary steps to spotlight underappreciated gems like the Mares’ Hurdle, they come too late to quell the lingering bitterness from this year’s event, where superstar mare Lossiemouth’s dominant victory in the very same race crystallized a growing schism: Is the Festival evolving, or is it eroding the principle of pitting the best against the best?

For those who missed the drama—or perhaps chose to block it out—the 2025 Cheltenham Festival unfolded like a Greek tragedy laced with Irish flair. Lossiemouth, the six-year-old grey sensation trained by Willie Mullins for owner Rich Ricci, entered the week as the darling of the Champion Hurdle trail. Unbeaten in her previous two Festival appearances, including a demolition job in the 2024 Mares’ Hurdle and a breathtaking Triumph Hurdle win as a juvenile in 2023, she had been meticulously prepared for a showdown in the blue-riband Unibet Champion Hurdle on day one. Her season’s highlights—a commanding display in the Lismore Hurdle at Punchestown and a gritty recovery from a fall at Leopardstown—painted her as a filly ready to challenge the likes of Constitution Hill and State Man. Ricci himself had campaigned her unapologetically as a top-level contender, declaring at preview nights that she was no mere sideshow act.

Yet, in a move that felt like a plot twist scripted by a disgruntled punter, connections executed a late declaration switcheroo on the eve of the Festival. Lossiemouth bypassed the Champion Hurdle entirely, opting instead for a repeat tilt at the Mares’ Hurdle. The decision, Mullins explained post-race, was born of pragmatism: jockey Paul Townend’s preference, the horse’s affinity for the track, and a desire to secure another Festival triumph amid a season marred by setbacks. “After much consideration, we had a late change of heart,” Mullins said, his tone matter-of-fact as ever. Townend, aboard for the ride, guided her to a third Festival victory with ruthless efficiency, hacking up by a widening margin over rivals like Jade De Grugy and Take No Chances. She travelled like a dream, quickening clear before the final flight and idling on the run-in, her performance a masterclass that left commentators grasping for superlatives. “She’s in a different league,” admitted Dan Skelton, trainer of the third-placed mare. Lossiemouth’s effortless stroll not only netted Ricci another Grade One but also etched her name deeper into Cheltenham lore, joining the elite with three wins under the Cotswold skies.

The backlash, however, was swift and savage. Punters flooded social media with outrage, decrying the switch as a betrayal of the Festival’s ethos. “Take nothing away from the performance but she really is a Champion Hurdle horse. Serious changes needed for next year’s festival,” tweeted freelance journalist Jacob Frain, capturing the sentiment in a viral clip of the mare’s canter. Racing Post columnist Paul Kealy laid the blame squarely at Cheltenham’s door: “It’s Cheltenham’s fault. They made changes but stuck with the Mares’ Hurdle—it’s ridiculous.” The criticism stung deeper because it exposed a structural flaw. The Mares’ Hurdle, introduced in 2008 to bolster female participation in jumps racing, has ballooned from a niche support act to a Grade One powerhouse, boasting a purse that rivals the elite contests. Over the past two decades, the percentage of mares in British training has climbed from 18% to nearly 25%, thanks in part to this incentive. Icons like Honeysuckle and Epatante have delivered unforgettable moments, proving the race’s value in elevating the sport’s diversity.

But here’s the rub: the Mares’ Hurdle has morphed into a safety net for elite fillies dodging open company. Lossiemouth’s defection robbed the Champion Hurdle of its anticipated fireworks, leaving it to unravel into chaos—Constitution Hill and State Man both unseated in a farcical renewal won by a shock 25-1 outsider, Golden Ace. Bookmakers breathed sighs of relief, dodging multimillion-pound payouts on accumulator bets that hinged on the favorites, but the damage to the Festival’s prestige was incalculable. “This bloated programme leads to more uncompetitive races,” argued Daily Mail columnist Calum McClurkin, absolving Ricci and Mullins while indicting the schedule’s sprawl. With over 20 Grade One and Grade Two races crammed into four days, connections can cherry-pick softer targets, diluting the “best vs. the best” allure that draws 250,000 spectators annually.
Cheltenham’s latest changes aim to address this. Jon Pullin, the Jockey Club’s head of racing and Cheltenham’s clerk of the course, hailed the Mares’ Hurdle’s relocation as a spotlight shift. “Previously in the shadow of the Champion Hurdle, this move allows it to shine as the pinnacle of the mares’ programme,” Pullin stated, emphasizing its role in fostering growth. The Thursday slot, traditionally St. Patrick’s Thursday with its raucous Irish invasion, could amplify the race’s drama, potentially drawing bigger fields and fiercer competition. Additional tweaks—like adopting a three-mile-one-furlong start for select events to improve visibility and safety—signal a broader push for refinement. Field size caps, informed by recent British Horseracing Authority reviews following equine fatalities, underscore a commitment to welfare amid scrutiny over the Festival’s intensity.
Yet, skeptics wonder if these are mere Band-Aids on a hemorrhaging tradition. The BHA’s acting chief, Brant Dunshea, has floated bolder reforms, such as barring recent Grade One winners from the Mares’ Hurdle to force cross-sex clashes. “Tweaks to conditions could ensure the best mares test themselves properly,” he suggested, echoing calls for a leaner programme that prioritizes depth over breadth. On X, the discourse rages: one user lamented, “Lossiemouth’s participation changes the game… the competition just became much harder,” while others decried the dominance of yards like Mullins’, who saddled multiple runners across diluted fields.
At its core, this uproar probes a timeless question: What’s the real point of the Cheltenham Festival? Is it a meritocracy where legends are forged in fire, or a commercial juggernaut balancing inclusivity with spectacle? Lossiemouth, with her silken stride and unyielding class, embodies the dilemma. She’s a magnificent mare, as Racing Post opined, “what an awful shame she wasn’t allowed to show us how good she really is.” Her 2025 triumph was poetry in motion, but it rang hollow for many—a glittering bauble in a race that feels increasingly like a parallel universe. As 2026 looms, the Jockey Club’s tweaks offer hope, but only if they reclaim the Festival’s beating heart: unfiltered excellence. Until then, the split festers, a reminder that in racing, as in life, the thrill lies not just in winning, but in the worthiness of the fight. Whether Lossiemouth graces the Champion Hurdle next spring or defends her mares’ crown anew, one thing is certain: the conversation she sparked will outlast any trophy.
