Flat jockeys are small. Incredibly small. Stop and stare small. Sorry, but that’s how it is. Now, it’s fairly unusual to be stop and stare small. In fact I’ve only met a couple of people like that who aren’t actually jockeys (one of them being my Gran who measured a remarkable 4 ft 9 inches in her slippers). I’m sure it’s a competitive area of work, but it’s not quite like football is it. At least with football you know that the top professionals have proven themselves more able than millions of other hopefuls (though how that explains Peter Crouch is beyond me just now).
Which leaves me to believe that whilst sadly a lot of flat jockeys may have to starve themselves; work ridiculously long hours; suck-up to a bunch of obnoxious owners; and drive thousands of miles for a chance of a spare ride, none of this means they’re actually any good. Quite a few of them seem barely able to point their horse in the right direction and let it run. Rarely do they seem to have studied the race, thought about the likely pace, or the effect of the draw, or walked the course, and so on.
Their major talent seems to be in running their horses up the back-side of the eventual winner, weaving off a straight-line in a driving finish, and dropping their hands in the shadow of the post, costing you that life-changing combination forecast.
Which gives some advantage to those jockeys who are obviously highly skilled. And to those punters who can spot the good ones. And the one who has been the best for a few years, and getting better year on year has just won both the Oaks and the Derby with very finely-judged rides indeed. One day the great british public are going to catch on as well....
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About Me
- Gary
- In my twenties I was a failed poet. In my thirties I wrote a book on gambling which was very nearly published. In my forties I wrote a small book about moving from London to Shropshire, which remains unpublished. Into my fifties and the quest continues...
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