n the first half of the 19th century, before Epsom joined the developing rail network, tens of thousands of Londoners left home before dawn on the first Wednesday in June, walked 20 miles into Surrey to watch the Derby, and then walked – or crawled – the 20 miles home. Until the late 1800s, parliament would rise on the first Wednesday in June to allow the honourable members to join the throng. Derby Day has been inspiring paintings, films, novels and plays for more than 200 years, and the vast, sprawling mass of humanity mingling on Epsom Downs has always had a central role in the story. But not this year. For the first time since it was founded in 1780, the People’s Race will be run without The People. In earlier times of crisis, the Derby has occasionally moved from its traditional home, or the familiar date in early June. In 1917, it switched to Newmarket in late July. But never before has the Derby’s public not merely been discouraged from attending but banned from Epsom outright. Ten years short of the Classic’s 250th birthday, this will be a Derby Day like no other. Epsom’s plan to keep the public a long way away from the action on Saturday was approved by the local council as long ago as 12 May. The track is built on public land – which is why at least 100,000 people can turn up and watch for free in a normal year, in addition to 40,000 in the stands – and so permission was required to close it off, even for just 24 hours. Several miles of temporary fencing will enclose the course and surroundings, and the organisers are pleading with fans to get the message, stay away and watch on television instead. What no one could have foreseen in May, of course, was that the first Derby to be held in July for more than a century would coincide with England’s pubs opening their doors for the first time since March. That adds an element of uncertainty to the proceedings which Epsom could surely do without, and they can only hope that would-be racegoers will heed the words of their hero, Frankie Dettori. “Please don’t come to the Downs,” Dettori said this week on Twitter. “There’s a three-mile fence around the place, so sit back and enjoy it on ITV. I hope I can win it for you. Ciao.” Millions of punters will hope so, too, and as the result of an old-fashioned “jocking off”, Dettori certainly has a favourite’s chance on English King. Tom Marquand rode English King to win his trial at Lingfield last month, but when it became clear that Dettori did not have an obvious ride, Bjorn Nielsen, the colt’s owner, moved swiftly and decisively to get the Italian into the saddle. It was a move with echoes of the pre-race intrigue that so often ended up with Lester Piggott on a Derby favourite in the 1970s. “Every generation has its Derby jockey,” says Sean Magee, a racing historian and Piggott’s biographer. “People who bet once or twice a year study no further. Who’s Lester riding? I’m backing him. There are parallels with Frankie, and Steve Donoghue in the 1920s, and there was an ongoing story with Sir Gordon Richards, who didn’t win until his 28th attempt [in 1953]. “The thing about Lester jocking people off is that he had complete faith and confidence in his own ability. After he jocked off Bill Williamson from Roberto [in 1972] it became part of the ritual of the build-up to the Derby. Of course, the corollary to “Who’s Lester riding?” was “Who’s lost his Derby ride to Lester?”, but it was all part of the tradition.” Dettori’s overall record in the Derby – two wins from 24 rides – is several furlongs adrift of Piggott’s nine from 36. But his reputation as a rider for the biggest occasions definitely stands comparison, and Dettori will need to draw on all his experience and self-confidence if he is to become the first rider since Kieren Fallon, aboard Oath in 1999, to win the Derby from stall one. Fallon, like Piggott, was the undisputed master of Epsom in his prime. “When the draw came out, I remember Willie Ryan told me that stall one was the coffin box,” he said this week. “But if you’re riding a horse that travels, it doesn’t make a difference. At Epsom, it’s all about momentum and pace and positioning, and if you enjoy that you’ll ride it well. “Tom Marquand is a rising star but Frankie is one of the greatest jockeys we’ve seen for a long, long time and possibly we won’t see one like him again, in the way he rides, not only here but all over the world.” Racing’s greatest showman on the Epsom favourite in July, behind barricades built to keep his audience out. In this most difficult and disturbing of years, it feels like the plot of another novel set on Derby Day, with only the final chapter yet to be written.