In an evocative extract from Came The Dark Horse, his well-received book of collected writings, Patrick Lawrence Gilligan explains why the Cheltenham Festival means so much in Britain and Ireland
Kentucky resident Patrick Lawrence Gilligan was born in the US but has trained at Newmarket in England. As the most important week of the year in jump racing begins, he outlines just how powerful the love is for the Cheltenham Festival
• Originally published March 2020
The Cheltenham Festival starts on Tuesday. The most ferocious four days in racing there is. Steeplechasing’s Breeders’ Cup. When the tape goes up and the runners set off for the first race on the first day, there will be a roar that shakes the surrounding hills.
Imagine if every big race of the Saratoga meet was squeezed into four days. Imagine if all those fans of Saratoga, all those people in love with the place, had only four days to savor it, to breath it in, to experience it, imagine if all those great Saratoga horses were all there for only four days.
It is too much really, an assault on the senses, 50,000 spectators, every one of them there to watch horses and to bet like they don’t have a wife or family.
Fortunes are bet, individual wagers in excess of £100,000 are recorded. The Irish come over like an invading army, to take on the old enemy, seeking reparations from when the English came and overstayed their welcome (they seemed to do a lot of that). The Irish make the festival, there for the craic, there for the horses, there for the stout.
An Irishman one year claimed he won enough on the first day to clear his mortgage. On the third day he lost his house. “It was only a small house,” he said.
The horses, beautiful, big, gallant, strong. I’ve jumped steeplechase fences on those horses. It was the best feeling in the world back then. You will never know how strong a racehorse really is until you fly over a big fence at speed, when they launch.
It is a game for young men, though, young men made of steel and coated in titanium. There are some young women doing it now, as good as the best men. They are made of steel too and coated in titanium.
John Francome, legendary ex-steeplechase rider, was asked by a reporter once if he ever missed it. “Miss it?” He said. “I can’t believe I was ever bloody daft enough to do it in the first place.”
It is crazy, and crazily dangerous too, but beautiful and poetic at the same time. Such a spectacle.
The horses return tired, exhausted, three miles, 20-plus fences, carrying over 160 pounds often. It seems cruel, maybe. Maybe it is cruel. Life is cruel. But these warriors, if they aren’t taken by injury, return year after year, they are loved and become friends, heroes. The best of them have their exploits detailed on the national news.
Four days, full Irish breakfast, to the races, read the form, look at the horses, bet. Repeat seven times. Leave the racecourse, head to a country pub, sit by the fire with a hot toddy, eat steak, talk about today’s racing and tomorrow’s over more drinks, go to bed. Repeat for four days, then go home and don’t look at another horse race for at least a week.
You can’t. It is too pale, too wan, after what you have just experienced.
Came The Dark Horse – Horseracing Stories for Horseracing Fans (232pp, hardback) by Patrick Lawrence Gilligan is published by Random Horse Publications. Hardback edition (232pp) can be purchased for $21.99 at Amazon and other retailers
Superman, The Rat, Jack the Ripper and friends - it’s all part of a day Louisiana Downs
Steve Cauthen: Reminiscences of the Kentucky Kid
Omaha Beach: a potent reminder of something we should never forget
View the latest TRC Global Rankings for horses / jockeys / trainers / sires