'No rhyme, no reason, no sense': Ruby Walsh on the death of jockey Michael O'Sullivan
On Sunday, the sun didn’t rise in Lombardstown as clouds drew in and the darkest day arrived.
For nine days, the sad reality was that the injuries Michael O’Sullivan received at Thurles 11 days ago were the kind that no one could recover from.
The hope that someone so fit and muscular could somehow defy all logic was the light everyone looked for.
However, on Saturday, as news filtered through that organ donation was being considered, the inevitable was on the way.
Michael was destined to join Kieran Kelly, Jack Tyner, Dary Cullen, Sean Cleary, and JT McNamara, to name just a few from the riding ranks, who headed on from this world because of the hand the sport dealt them.
No rhyme, no reason, no sense.
All were young, all fit, and doing a job they enjoyed. None were at war, yet they might as well have been.
There are no words, inspiration, or resolutions for the devastation in the O’Sullivans’ world, but there are memories, and Michael left more than his share of those.
His pony club, hunting, point-to-point, university, and race-riding years will have left countless memories for all those he touched.
As 20 years my junior, he was a man I watched and admired, but one I looked at as much from a parent’s point of view as anything else.
His manners, demeanour, general conduct, and behaviour were perfect, but there was so much more.
A university degree and fluent French showed a rounded individual who had thought way beyond a career as a professional sportsperson.
He wasn’t in a hurry; school and education went hand-in-hand with his riding. He wasn’t trying to run before he could walk and was in his 20s before turning professional.
He could see beyond the confines of the local product and had dipped his toe in the French waters, making contacts and gathering experiences outside of the traditional paths.
He could see, or most likely had been taught, to think outside the box, and he was doing precisely that, which made me think how proud you would be if he were yours.
Slowly building contacts and never afraid to go where racing brought him, I met him at Dublin Airport on January 16, waiting to board a flight to Heathrow.
He was headed for Windsor the following day and believed riding an outsider for Harry Derham on ITV was a better opportunity than a similar ride at Cork.
I agreed, even if I didn’t agree with his no-sock attire, before I boarded the plane as he explained to the lady behind us about the saddle he was carrying.
What weight it was, what the leathers and irons were, how the girth would hold it on and how many others he had — every detail he could think of.
And it felt like the lady who didn’t know what he was carrying would be able to saddle a horse by the time she had boarded the plane.
He didn’t know how he was getting out of Heathrow that evening, but he knew why he was going there and where he wanted to end up. His job had been carefully chosen; every decision he made was about improving that career, and his eyes were set on making it the best he could.
He understood the game and never burned a bridge. He was never afraid to ask for help and always took advice on board.
There will never be an explanation for why he met the fate that he has, but some lucky soul somewhere got one huge, healthy, and brave heart yesterday when Michael’s was handed over.
What he gave away on his way out the door will have saved a few from following him, but his mark on this world means more will want to follow what he did.
The horse world is small; think De Bromheads, Fosters, and Hancocks, to name just a few, and you realise no part of this world remains untouched from the cruellest blows there can be.
Michael O’Sullivan’s rollercoaster ride is over. Nobody has walked away smiling because the ending came with the ultimate price anyone can pay.
And now the pain is carried by those left behind.
Those who have lost a son, a brother, a nephew, a grandson, a partner, a friend and those who have lost a colleague are looking at this rollercoaster ride in devastation.
The world will never be fair.
