Connor King needs a little persuading that his attempt to win Saturday’s Grand National with Oscars Brother has the potential to be one of the most remarkable tales in the 187-year history of the world’s most famous and storied steeplechase. “It’s probably hard [to see] when you’re in the situation,” the trainer said this week. “When you’re looking in from the outside, it might be easier.”
The Grand National, it’s true, amplifies everything: triumph, despair, drama. Even by the standards of what has always been a race apart, however, King’s journey to Liverpool from his tiny stable in County Tipperary skirts the border between implausible and absurd.
