IT was difficult to know who to feel the most sympathy for on Saturday in the midst of all the mayhem at Aintree. There were plenty of contenders but the sight of a bemused Peter O'Sullevan wandering around - after the 50th and final Grand National he was to commentate on had been cancelled clutching a "sorry to see you go" card to his chest, won more than most.

"Poor Peter. He's rather like Mike Atherton on 49 not out here - he, more than anybody would have felt the agony, said O'Sullevan's BBC colleague Julian Wilson on Match of the pay that night.

While to most ears O'Sullevan's Grand National commentaries have sounded effortless over the years it was a surprise to learn, in the course of the build-up to the race, of the annual agony that he endures as he prepares for his big day. "He dines alone the night before, with a glass of red and his colours chart he becomes incredibly nervous and can't sleep at all," another of the BBC team, Jim McGrath, told us.

On Friday's Grand National Tales on BBC2, O'Sullevan told Des Lynam that after surviving the trauma of his first radio commentary on the race he made a solemn oath to himself that he would never do another. Then, in 1958, his second in command, Peter Bromley, was persuaded to turn down the radio commentary job for the Grand National because, as his television boss put it, "O'Sullevan's not going to go on forever.

Go on he did and year after year, in the gentlest possible way, it's been his job to inform us that the horse we had backed had fallen at the first fence, thus ending our interest in the occasion before it had really begun.

Lynam tried to get O'Sullevan to admit to feeling a little tearful at the thoughts of his Grand National career coming to an end on Saturday but he was having none of it. "Next year I'll have all of the adrenalin and none of the anxiety," he said, already looking forward to his retirement.

And so, having climbed the 98 steps to the BBC commentary position where his trusty binoculars, taken from a German U-boat, stood ready for action, O'Sullevan waited for his last hurrah. And he waited and he waited but it wasn't to be, not on Saturday anyway.

"Well this is a ghastly situation all round... an awful business," said Lynam who, even under the circumstances, managed to remain remarkably calm. Shortly afterwards the BBC team was evacuated, including O'Sullevan who had two more sleepless nights ahead of him before his final Grand National finally gets under way today.

Another member of the BBC team, former jockey Peter Scudamore, felt most for the Grand National horses, abandoned in their stables as the course was evacuated, but Humbel, one of the runners in last Monday's Gold Cup Novice Hurdle at Fairyhouse, probably envied them their fence-free afternoon.

"Humbel was a disappointment at Cheltenham but there was an excuse offered afterwards," said RTE presenter Robert Hall as he chatted to Ted Walsh about the horse's prospects in the race. "He dragged his undercarriage through a flight of hurdles and hurt himself - if that was his only reason for defeat then it was quite justifiable. What's your opinion of him, Ted?"

"I don't know what to make of him. I had a few quid on him at Cheltenham and I'm not making any excuses for him. I know the excuse given was that he dragged his auld testicles through the hurdle up there and I suppose anybody wouldn't like a yard brush dragged over them at any stage but at the same time he quit very quick," said Ted, as only Ted could. (That tune, "Oh Lord it's so hard to be Humbel" sprang to mind).

Not surprisingly Humbel leapt Jason McAteer-like over the fences once his race got under way, leaving nothing to chance, but he was pipped on the line by the Oliver Brady-trained Gazalani. "Yeah, heh, up Monaghan - c'mon ya daisy, get the photographs," howled a delighted Oliver in the winner's enclosure.

Next on the card was the big race, the Irish Grand National. Unlike the English version on Saturday the race got under way alright but, much to everyone's amazement, it had two finishes - the one we saw with our own eyes and then the photo finish.

"Amble Speedy pricks his auld ears going to the line and wins well at the death," said Ted, confirming what everyone else on the planet believed and prompting one or two of us to shred our betting slips.

Then the voice came over the PA system announcing that "eight" had won the race - and Amble Speedy wasn't number eight. "You should never pre-empt anything," said a stunned Ted.

Have you ever tried taping a shredded betting slip back together again? It was like a bloody 859-piece jigsaw. After the first reassembly attempt it read "I Hum Mad". The second: "Had I Mum." The third? "Hi Mud Ma." Finally, fourth time lucky - "Mudahim", the real winner of the Irish Grand National (well, according to the photo finish).

So, a successful flutter on Mudahim. Let's make it double or quits - Ireland to trounce Macedonia. A racing certainty. Not long after taking to the field, looking like something you'd see marching down the Garvaghy Road on a balmy summer evening, Ireland took their expected lead. "Number one," cried George Hamilton and, like George, we expected many, many more.

However.

"Place that defeat in context, Eamonn," said Bill at full time. "It's a very, very bad defeat, the worst defeat I can remember since the Eoin Hand days. I didn't see Trinidad and Tobago for example but it's in that category. Terrible... shocking, shocking performance." Double or quits? Quits. Gambling? A mug's game.