It is 32 years since Sheikh Mohammed's colours were first carried to victory on a racecourse, and the precise amount of money he has since poured into racing around the world is beyond accurate calculation. And for almost as long as the sheikh and his brothers have been a dominant force in international bloodstock, there have been voices warning of the disaster that might follow if, or when, their money or enthusiasm ever ran out.
Now, it seems, we might be about to find out. Dubai World, the state-backed business behind much of the emirate's building boom, is drowning in debt. The neighbouring emirate of Abu Dhabi, which is in the much happier position of drowning in oil, may offer Dubai's best chance of rescue, but may also feel it is a bit cheeky to run the world's largest bloodstock empire with one hand while holding out a begging bowl with the other.
John Ferguson, one of Sheikh Mohammed's closest bloodstock advisers, stressed last week that the Sheikh's personal wealth is separate from that of Dubai itself, and that it is business as usual for Godolphin, Darley and all the many other racing and breeding businesses that have their roots in Dubai.
That may well be so, though you would hardly expect him to say anything else. But however the current financial crisis in the Gulf eventually resolves itself, this is an obvious moment for British racing to consider the certain fact that one way or another, Sheikh Mohammed will not be with us forever.
You could spend a month assessing the various ways in which the loss of Sheikh Mohammed's investment might affect the racing industry, and still not form a complete picture. His money, and influence, run that deep.
But it might also pay to remember that one of racing's weaknesses is its ability to talk itself into despair. Listen to the Racehorse Owners' Association, for instance, and you might imagine that prize money is now so miserable that meltdown is just a matter of time. But is this really the case? Or is it just that the chippiest owners, the ones who see no further than the bottom line, get themselves elected to the ROA council, while the rest get on with enjoying themselves.
It is certainly hard to see how the loss of investment from Dubai would be anything but a catastrophe for the breeding industry. The Maktoum brothers' money has underpinned the market at the major yearling sales for decades, and without it, the prices would surely collapse.
Whether a calamity for breeders inevitably means disaster for racing too is another question. A sudden glut of choicely bred and unexpectedly cheap yearlings might even help to broaden the ownership base, tempting in new owners at the upper and middle levels.
The effects of losing the Maktoums' money would also be felt unevenly. It would be bitterly painful for Newmarket in particular, which is a centre for breeding as well as training, and a place where many have grown complacent about the apparently never-ending stream of investment. Jobs would be lost, and possibly licences relinquished, though Sheikh Mohammed's personal racing interests are no longer spread around town and largely reside with Godolphin.
The cash that the Maktoum family spend on sponsorship – in terms of individual races, like the July Cup, and also Channel 4's television coverage – is also significant, and would be missed.
But the fact remains that the billions the Maktoums have invested into British racing over the last 30 years have been just that – an investment, not a loan. By any measure you choose, the sport in Britain is in far better shape now than it was before Sheikh Mohammed and his brothers arrived, and they deserve a great deal of the credit for that. But it need not mean that if their money dries up, the entire edifice will collapse.
A modern racing industry should be big and stable enough to survive the loss of any individual, or group of individuals. But there is, of course, only one way to find out.
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