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Racing: 'It may look smooth, but it's still not like riding a bicyle'

Sue Montgomery
Sunday 10 March 2002 01:00 GMT
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Imagine this. You are crouched astride a tall, narrow wardrobe, in a thigh-wrenching squat, with your shoulders about nine feet above the ground and your feet, in flimsy, thin-soled shoes, balanced on narrow metal strips.

Two blokes are rocking the edifice back and forward while another is trying to pull you from your perch by tugging forward and down on a couple of leather straps in your hands. You're not allowed to hold on to anything and periodically the rockers tip you at a sideways angle as well. Oh, and the whole thing is set on an open lorry travelling at 35 miles an hour over particularly tortuous terrain.

Racing is one of those sports that will always be at a disadvantage in that the vast majority of the watchers have no idea of what it is like to do it. The footie fan can go and kick a ball about, the golf addict can drive and putt. But very few have the opportunity to mount up and pretend to be Tony McCoy.

The above description is, in truth, more akin to riding an ill-educated, bad horse than a good, mannerly one. And Jim Culloty, stable jockey to Henrietta Knight, is more familiar with the latter. "Riding good ones is a privilege, and it's easy when they're travelling underneath you," he said, "but though it may look smooth there's a lot going on. It's still not like riding a bicycle."

Jockeys may traditionally be on the small, slight side, but they are hard men in mind and body, a reflection of the physical demands of a job that is one of the few that involves being followed round by an ambulance. Culloty will himself be riding at Cheltenham with a metal plate in his right forearm.

"You use your whole body when you're riding," he said. "You're in the squat the whole time, hard on the thigh muscles. If a horse is pulling it's hard on the arms. But the hardest work is driving a tired, lazy horse. Every single muscle aches, calves, thighs, stomach, shoulders. If you've been giving something a really serious drive you'll get blurred vision as oxygen deprivation sets in and you come in with your eyes all bloodshot. You mightn't always need all your strength, but it's got to be there."

It is generally only when things begin to go wrong that the sheer physicality of riding half a ton of muscular animal of independent thought comes into play. "You may be better with a horse that pulls by hardly touching his mouth," said Culloty, "but there are others that need the brute force. Some do float along but others pound the ground and your knees act as shock absorbers. You often come in with bruised ankles and feet if a horse has bashed into you. And if you're in front and the wind is blowing in your face you can hardly breathe."

It has been said that crossing a steeplechase fence on a good horse is the greatest fun a chap can have with his trousers on. Culloty, 28, has experienced two of the best from his stable, Best Mate, whom he will ride in the Gold Cup on Thursday, and Edredon Bleu, the mount of McCoy in the Queen Mother Champion Chase on Wednesday.

"Edredon Bleu doesn't get high, he skims in a low, fast trajectory and is lightning quick away from the fence," said the Irishman. "He's brave, too, but oddly it doesn't feel as spectacular as it looks from the stands because he doesn't seem to put any effort into it. He's not the fastest between fences and you don't really feel you're going anywhere until you look round and there's nothing behind. But taking two lengths out at each fence must make a difference. He gets two miles very well so you can make use of him from the front and take the race to the others.

"Best Mate is totally different. He prefers to be switched off and lobbing along. He's an economical jumper too, brilliant and clever, but not flamboyant, the sort you'd trust round a set of solid fences. You get him into a rhythm and pop, pop, pop away and as the rest start to get tired you've still got plenty of horse under you. He doesn't just stay, he quickens. Sheer class."

It is generally only afterwards that a jockey can appreciate a race. "When it goes right, it's great," said Culloty. "But you don't really have the thrill at the time, because you are actually busy working. You have to concentrate because if you don't do it right it won't go right. But just sometimes, on a real nice horse that's going well, you can enjoy the moment."

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