“Some mornings I wake up and think I’ll train horses, other days I think I’ll take Pat Keane’s job”
How do you manage to control your weight to do the job?
“I got the winter vomiting bug in the middle of December and lost 6lbs, and I haven’t put it back on, so I’ve been 9-12 ever since. I started watching my weight when I was in school. I was worried I was getting heavy, but when I was 18 or 19 I went to the Blackrock Clinic to a dietician called Mary McCreery and she put me on a diet. I told her I wanted to lose 6lbs — I was 10-4 at the time. I could have a bowl of cereal with skimmed milk for breakfast and a glass of sweetened orange juice. I’d go to school then and at break time I could have a can of diet, whatever — a sandwich with Connacht Gold Butter, one slice of meat and some salad on brown bread. I could have a Mueller Light yoghurt when I came home from school, four ounces of raw meat, two potatoes and veg for dinner. That was it. I did it from when I was 18 until the time I was 22 and my weight levelled off at 10-2.”
Is that your discipline all the time?
“No. Now I don’t do anything with my weight. I don’t have a good diet. I know how to keep my weight at what it should be. But I do everything arseways. I don’t eat breakfast — every dietician in the world tells you that you should eat breakfast to get your metabolism going. In the morning I have a cup of coffee and if I’m riding, I probably don’t eat until I’m finished (working out). I have my dinner every night. Days off I may or may not have a sandwich. I have one meal a day and lots of coffee. “In 2003 the Rugby World Cup was in Australia. I had a broken hip so I went to the Breeders’ Cup in America, went onto the Melbourne Cup and Ireland were playing Australia in the Compromise Rules — it should have been called No Rules because I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I remember getting up on the Wednesday morning after the Melbourne Cup to come home and I couldn’t close the buttons on jeans. I was 10-12. I had to lose that weight and it was an absolute killer. I swore never again would I get that fat. Your stomach’s a muscle, your appetite’s in your head. The more you eat the more you want. The less you eat, the less you need. I’m not saying it’s the way forward for anybody else, I’m sure it’s not overly healthy, but I know how to manage my weight.”
When you go to Willie Mullins’ to ride out, what time do you have to get up at?
“About five to seven. I only live an hour away. I have two times on my phone (alarm): 5.55am to get flights to England, and 6.55am to go to Willie’s. I leave home at seven, and the first lot goes out at eight. He’d exercise about 100 horses between then and lunchtime. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday are the work mornings. They canter Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I could work six, seven or eight horses in a morning. In the run up to Cheltenham I might be riding eight or ten or more horses.”
It’s a tough sport. Tell us what injuries you’ve picked up.
“I suppose we’ll start at the bottom: I broke my ankle a couple of years ago; I broke my tibia in 2010, dislocated my left hip, broke my right hip, broke four vertebrae, dislocated both my shoulders, broke both my wrists, dislocated by right collar bone, lost my spleen.”
But, as Basil Fawlty might say, otherwise okay? You’re in an extraordinary position as, in my lifetime, I’ve never heard of any jockey who is number one to the number one trainer in Ireland, and number one to the number one trainer in Britain. It’s extraordinary. I see you every day in the weigh-room with Willie Mullins and I’ve never seen any tension between you. JP McManus said to me one time that the reason Charlie Swan was such a good jockey is that he’s his own man. Would Willie tie you to any orders?
“No, I’m not a believer in instructions. You have to be able to ad lib it. You get to the start and you think that numbers one, four or five are going to make the running and ensure a strong pace but by the time you get there, they’ve changed tactics. You have to be able to change tactics with them. If you’re going to give a jockey a lot of instructions and tie him down to this, then you should put a robot on the horse because you have to be able to react to the situation that’s in front of you, to make decisions. If you’re going to make decisions you have to be prepared to be wrong, get off and put your hands up and say ‘I fucked that up. I’m very sorry’. If you’re always going to do what you’re told, always sit on the fence, you’ll never make a mistake, but you’ll never win one you shouldn’t have won.”
Is that the same relationship with Paul Nicholls?
“Yeah, I suppose it is now. I was lucky that when I started with Willie I was 16 and I developed as a jockey working for him. When I started working with Paul I was 21 and he wasn’t used to my style or riding. But now he’ll stand in the ring — even Zarkandar at Newbury — he’ll say ‘sure you know what you’re going to do’. That’s basically it.”
Paul Nicholls always has his horses very fit and he always liked them to be ridden on the pace, whereas you can ride them on the pace, in the middle or out the back. At the start he wasn’t too happy when you were out the back.
“No. England’s a different animal; it’s a different way of looking at things. It’s a different way of racing, a different way of training. The tracks are different. The last one to arrive in Ireland is usually the winner, whereas in England it’s the first one to set sail. In Ireland you get castigated for going too soon. In England they don’t mind that. If you set sail turning in and you get beat, the horse wasn’t good enough. I might think I went too soon, but they don’t see it that way. They think their horses are the fittest — get him up there, keep him out of trouble and keep kicking — it’s a different way of looking at it. Ireland’s much more tactical.”
You’re approaching your mid-30s, a time when most people are getting into the full rhythm of their profession, but you, if you don’t mind me saying, are heading towards the veteran stage. Have you given any thought to what the future holds? In seven or eight years you’re going to have to pull stumps. What does the future hold?
“I don’t know. Some morning I wake up and think I’ll train horses, other days I think I’ll take Pat Keane’s job. I don’t know but it’ll be in horses. All I know is that it’ll be something to do with horses, whether it’ll be talking about them, writing about them, buying them, selling them or something else.”
Those of us who are involved in racing are totally consumed by it. You’re married now, with two young kids. Has that changed your perspective on race-riding or life in general?
“No, but it doesn’t make the bad days as bad. You go home after an ordinary enough weekend — you didn’t end up in an ambulance — but when you get home Isabelle or Elsa couldn’t give a shit whether you ride five winners or five losers, they’re still the same two girls — that’s what changes. Now people say to you, such and such a horse broke a leg, that’s bad news. No it’s not. The day Gillian rings and says one of the kids is in Crumlin Hospital, that’s bad news. That’s the change. It doesn’t make me think I have to stop race-riding because I have kids. It’s my job. They still have to be provided for.”
I’ve known you for years and years and, to me, you’ve always been a well-rounded individual. I know your father played a massive part in your life, but what about your mum?
She’s the boss. Simple as. She’s the boss of him (Ted Snr.) too. In our house everyone had an opinion. You could be sitting down there having an argument. Usually it revolved around some other sport. We’d all have a different opinion, but the one to step in, have the final say and shut us all up was mam. If you wanted to do anything or go anywhere, it was always ‘ask your mother’. She had the final say, and she was the one who made me stay in school and get an education — which was no harm. As much as dad shaped my life and my career, as a person she’s the one and the one you’d always ring.”
PAAway from racing, do you relax?
“I love rugby. I watch a lot of it. I play a bit of golf, badly, but mostly because it’s five hours with the phone turned off. I play with the kids and that’s about it.”
You mentioned rugby. Do you have any heroes in rugby?
Yeah, Nick Farr-Jones was always my hero. I met him when I was 13 or 14. The Rugby World Cup was in Ireland and England at the time. Australia played New Zealand in the semi-final and the Australian team ended up in Naas Rugby Club for some reason. I met Nick Farr-Jones and I thought he was God. I always liked rugby, always watched a lot of it and I have a huge opinion on it. I’m a proper hurler on the ditch when it comes to that.”
Your diet doesn’t lend itself to you being very strong, so where do you get the strength from in a race? Do you go to a gym or do you go out running? Jockeys need unbelievable strength in some of the finishes they ride.
“It’s a catch-22. Muscle weighs much more than fat, so you don’t want to do too much in the gym. It’s more like being a marathon runner than a sprinter — it’s all endurance. Riding is the best way to get fit. I remember watching Steve Collins, when he was a boxer, riding in a charity race in Fairyhouse. I wouldn’t be able to go three rounds in the ring with a punch bag, let alone somebody else. He, at the time, was after beating Chris Eubank, going 12 rounds or whatever it was. He rode in one race, over two miles, and he came back in absolutely shattered. Riding is a complete compression of your muscles. It’s not flexibility, it’s the opposite. So, riding is the best way of getting fit. Where do you get strength from? Adrenalin. It’ll get you home in a driving finish.”
Would you encourage your daughters to go down the same road as you and become national hunt jockeys?
“I’d steer them in any other direction I possibly can other than do that. I watch my sister do it and my now sister-in-law, Nina Carberry, do it and — I’m not being sexist here — but it’s not a job for females. It’s the human body: the male body is much physically stronger than the female body. And I see the falls and I watch Katie getting a fall, or Nina, and myself. I don’t worry so much about a guy getting a fall as I would a girl. Maybe that’s just me. It’s the falls. Guys are a bit different. Their bones are stronger and they take them better than the girls, and I wouldn’t be keen on them (daughters) doing it. If they want to be flat jockeys, so be it.
What’s the highlight of your career to date?
“Papillon winning the Grand National. No doubt. I’d had a fairly ordinary year. I’d broken my leg in the Czech Republic in September. I’d been champion jockey the year before and I was only 22, but I missed six months with a broken leg. Racing is no different to any other sport — when you’re out you’re forgotten. I’d only had four rides at Cheltenham that year but I went to Aintree to ride Papillon. He was 40-1 on the morning of the race, Dad was training him, he ended up winning and I’ve never looked back. It was, without doubt, the highlight of my career.”
Can Kauto Star win a third Gold Cup?
“He’s 12. He can’t be any better than he was. Maybe he’s as good as he was. Will that do? It might. Quel Esprit has to improve a bit, but Synchronised might be the dark horse. He won very well at Christmas. Long Run is obviously the favourite, but when you look at him, maybe there’s an argument that he has peaked and regressed, like Master Minded and like so many other French horses. There’s no doubt that Kauto Star is the exception to the rule where French horses are concerned. They usually peak at eight and start to fall off after that, whereas Irish horses are only getting going at eight. I hope he can win, but it’s not one of the rides at Cheltenham I’d say will win. Maybe being as good as he was might do. That he has a chance to win again is more a reflection on the horses coming behind than it is on him. He’s an exceptional horse — he’s the horse of my lifetime — but at 12 he should be starting to slip back and yet he still looks good enough. He’s been one hell of a horse and if he does win the Gold Cup they’ll blow the roof off Cheltenham.”
Do you think Hurricane Fly is unbeatable?
“There’s no such thing as unbeatable. By the time you go the first hurdle it can be all over, but you wouldn’t want to ride anything else in the race. He was very good in Leopardstown and he will have improved for the run. I rode Zarkandar (in the Betfair Hurdle) and he has to improve. I thought Binocular was good at Wincanton, but to me it all points to Hurricane Fly. He is the form horse, he is the champion and by the laws of probability he’ll will.”
Do you see any danger to Big Buck’s in the World Hurdle? A lot of people say Oscar Whisky is the best horse he’s ever going to have faced. Do you see it that way?
“No. Grands Crus is a very good horse. So was Punchestowns, and so was Kasbah Bliss. Big Buck’s has beaten good horses before and he’ll beat them again. Mourad won the big hurdle at Navan recently but he couldn’t be found behind Big Buck’s at Cheltenham (in January). The same with Restless Harry at Haydock. It’s only when you watch those horses that finish behind Big Buck’s come out afterwards and win that you realise how good he is. He’s an incredible horse. If he could jump, he’d be one of the greatest horses of all time, but the fact that he can’t means he’s a three-mile hurdler.”
A horse I’m a big fan of is So Young. I just wish there was a two and a half mile championship race at the Festival. Do you think there should be?
No. Sure that’s like saying he’s a good footballer and a good hurler so we’ll play the two of them together and see how he gets on. There’s a two-mile race and a three-mile race. You can’t divide it up and keep diluting it. I think the Ryanair Chase has taken horses out of the Gold Cup and the Champion Chase. It’s the same thing with the three-mile novices’ hurdle: it’s taking horses out of the two and a half-mile race. I don’t agree with it.”
