Life As I Know It (18 page)

‘The only thing I have in my life,' he told me, ‘is my brain.'

He wanted to go to university and I decided to fund his education. Initially, he flew to India but found it very difficult to secure and maintain a place at the university he'd chosen. He seemed more suited to an African campus. He enrolled in a Ugandan university but corruption and blatant theft drained the funds I was providing. He did, though, finish his course and came up with a plan. He wanted to start a chicken farm but it was going to take forever to save the money to get started. He asked me to help.

‘Everyone likes to eat chicken,' he said. ‘And there's a shortage of chickens.' He found a site to build the pens and approached local restaurants. He was so keen to give it a red-hot go.

It was very hard to know how Elias would go investing what was a substantial amount of money. After much discussion with my dad, who always loves to help others but was a bit skeptical, and Mark Zahra, who thought I was odds-on to be taken for a ride, I decided to go with my gut instinct. I sent Elias the money to set up his farm. He stays in contact and he tells me it's set up and
going. We've hit a few bumps along the way but you can only live in hope, and trust, and I certainly hope his venture will turn into something substantial one day. And if it doesn't, the money is gone and we carry on. At least we had a go.

We were sad to leave when we did. Gabby and I went on to Nairobi and then to Mauritius before returning home. Sitting in the comfort of my Melbourne home, reflecting on my time away, I concluded that you cannot expect anything. All the great moments of your life, all the joy you experience, have to be thought of as a blessing.

This renewed sense of perspective gave me a feeling of release. It helped me understand the things that mattered most to me—my family, my friends, the people around me. I would be the best jockey I could be, but I'd try not to stress about it. I had to learn to understand things and accept things. Acceptance was the key.

I was looking forward to getting back on my little mate Yosei. When she resumed in the Spring she didn't do much in her first two starts. She was racing against the best three-year-olds and she remained one of those horses that, despite her successes, and her form, was never regarded as top class. Punters kept sending her out with double figure odds.

Stuey took us to Sydney again, to run in the Flight Stakes at Randwick. She was caught wide and didn't feature in the finish. Our run was okay, but it looked disappointing. I copped a bit of heat over my ride and there was talk of taking me off her. But Stuey stayed loyal and argued my case. Yosei and I went well together.

She was one of a handful of chances in the Thousand Guineas at Caulfield. I thought she was in good nick and, after spending a long time studying the form, I thought we could run a tactical race
that would serve her well. I was confident I'd be four back on the rails in the run, with the on-pace Sydney runners somewhere in front of me. When I walked the track that morning I found that the best ground was hard up against the inside rail. I felt a sense of quiet confidence come over me. If we could hug that rail we were right in this.

Yosei sometimes missed the start and liked to get back and finish over the top of them. Given the Sydney fillies were used to running the other way round—clockwise, yet another thing Melbourne and Sydney didn't agree on all those years ago—I thought they might drift off the rail on the corner and an inside run would present itself. And that's what happened—just.

The Sydney fillies half hung out, leaving only the tiniest gap. Yosei was so game, she'd take any run. Turning into the home straight we had made our way up behind the leaders and all we needed was a run. It came around the 300-metre mark and little Yosei didn't let me down. She shot through and won. Her second Group 1 win. She was a beauty.

Stuey tried her against the country's best fillies and mares in the Myer Classic but she wasn't yet up to that class. Back to her own age, she ran in The Oaks on the Thursday of Cup week, unsuccessfully as it turned out. I didn't ride her very well; she struggled at the distance and she finished well out of it. It was time for another spell. But we had a horse and I loved her. Stuey was doing a terrific job and the owners were having a good time of it. I really felt I knew this little horse.

At Christmas time the family all got together, as we always did. We caught up with what had been happening. There were a lot of laughs. Stevie was happy in his job at Darren Weir's stables.
He'd been working there for a couple of years and they loved him. He had a little scooter to take him about the place.

I was looking forward to a big year. Yosei was going to be a highlight for me, and who knew what she could do. She would be contesting the best races all over the country. At last, I thought, I might get a decent run at things. I might even find another Yosei or two. I was certainly working hard at it.

Towards the end of that summer I was riding Suite Success in the Blue Diamond Prelude for two-year-olds. Shortly after the start, as jockeys were jostling for positions, she clipped heels. I fell heavily and was again knocked unconscious. Concerned I'd injured my neck, the paramedics took me straight to Epworth Emergency for X-rays. Lying still in my neck brace waiting for the results of my CT scan, I talked myself into thinking I was fine and that I would be right to ride the next day. I had a good book of seven rides for some great trainers. Surely I could just walk out. Then a doctor came in.

‘Now, it's a bit worse than we first thought,' he said. I started to cry. ‘You have a fracture in your neck.' This certainly wasn't trivial.

Mark Zahra took me home. When I left the hospital I was sore but comfortable, but at two in the morning I headed to the bathroom for some painkillers and deteriorated very quickly. I started sweating and shaking uncontrollably and was rocking back and forth on the floor. My brain felt swollen, like it was too big for my skull. It just wasn't right. Mark came in to check on me but didn't know what to do either. I vomited my painkiller up and I sat beside the toilet and then had to lie down on the cold floor of the bathroom, I couldn't have a shower, I couldn't stand and I couldn't take off my neck brace.

I took more painkillers and with Mark's help got back into bed. I just held on until the medication eventually kicked in. For two days I couldn't get out of bed. I was vomiting and sleeping. I was so ill,
and I was also sad. Yet again I was injured and I was worried. Since the first fall I had lived with the prospect of far-reaching injuries. Was this what that meant? Would I be going back to the Epworth?

Mark made an appointment to see Gary Zimmerman, the jockeys' doctor, the next morning. I was too crook to go, so I cancelled. A second appointment was made, but I couldn't get out of bed. I cancelled again. Finally Mark talked directly with Gary, who said that I couldn't keep sleeping, that it was possibly dangerous for me to be sleeping so much. So we went in to see him and there wasn't much he could do. I had to see it out. The vomiting lasted another couple of days and Mark just sat with me, rubbing my back, unable to do anything else.

By the fourth day I came good. I had to rest and let my neck heal, which was going to take at least three months. And what then? Where would Yosei be by then? Who would be riding her?

I had to get through the recovery time, but I'm not very good at being inactive. I painted the cupboards and did a stack of jobs around the house. I also got to travel overseas again.

While I was out of action the Loreto girls came over for dinner a couple of times. One of the positives about being injured was that I could also eat whatever I liked for a couple of months. When I'm able, I cook roast lamb. The girls would bring bubbles and red wine and we'd talk. They still laugh about the time I played hostess with my neck brace on.

At those dinner parties we'd all end up in the spa, without a care in the world—for once. We'd inevitably talk about the past, and the future, and have those late-night, glass-in-hand conversations that people close to each other have. The Loreto girls were always concerned for my well-being. But they knew me, and what I hoped for—to race again.

I hadn't fully recovered by the time Yosei resumed with a run up the straight at Flemington. Stuey gave Mark the ride. It was a
fair run. Then Stuey took her north to Brisbane for the Winter Carnival. I was close to a full recovery but Jason Maskiell rode her in her first start up there. Yosei didn't do much.

I was riding trackwork and working hard in the gym to get back to riding my little mare. I was so lucky to have a horse I wanted to push myself for. Stuey was slightly concerned I'd only be back racing for two weeks before the Group 1 race Yosei was aimed at next, but I assured him I'd be okay. I'd had a few winners; I was ready.

I flew to Brisbane to work her five days before her race. She felt really strong.

‘Gee, her work was good,' I said to Stuey. ‘She'll go well.'

The exceptional Sydney mare Beaded was the odds-on favourite for the Tatts Tiara that Saturday. She looked the winner so I rode Yosei to run a place, in the hope she might even snatch the win. Dropping to the tail, Yosei travelled well within herself and came to the turn. I just needed an ounce of luck. We'd wasted no energy and I knew she had a really good sprint left in her. I thought she was going to storm home. Beaded shot clear like a good thing but, in a spectacular burst, Yosei came out after her. My little filly really lifted and she got home! It was a brilliant win—her third Group 1.

R
ACING IS MADE
up of so many different elements, and one of them is the track. I love the Ballarat track, because it's home. You tend to like the tracks where you do well, but not always. Tracks have such character. Warrnambool takes the jumpers across the road and up the hill into Brierley's Paddock. Eagle Farm in the winter sunshine is classically Queensland. Moonee Valley on Cox Plate Day, with the crowd right on top of you, makes for a great atmosphere. Flemington has its sweeping lawns and gardens.

Courses all over the world have such history. They have produced so many stories that sit in the memories of those who made them and shared them. The tracks in England and Ireland go here, there and everywhere, up and over undulating fields and through thickets of ancient trees, like someone marked out the course in 1839 and the horses have carved the path since. And then there's the long, straight tracks of Ascot or The Rowley Mile at Newmarket.

Racing is a big part of Australian culture. The carnivals here have their own distinctive characters. Warrnambool has scudding
sideways rain during its three-day May carnival—so Irish. The four-day Flemington Spring Carnival is a riotous celebration. The Sydney Carnival, which for a long time was timed for the month around Easter, is not as big as the Melbourne Spring season, but the racing is excellent. I love the Randwick track during this time—its layout and the rise in the straight, a gentle-enough gradient that is not cruel to the horses but sufficient to test them. The track is all part of the experience, even for a jockey focused on their horse.

Yosei liked Randwick and had won the Sires Produce there. Stuey Webb mapped out a new campaign for her. She was now a four-year-old with three Group 1s to her name, so she would run in the very best races, and in the famous Doncaster Handicap, which Patrick had won twenty years before. She ran fourth in the Coolmore Classic at Rosehill behind Ofcourseican, ridden by Kathy O'Hara, and then didn't run a place in the Queen of the Turf, won by outstanding Sydney mare More Joyous, who was going to be hard to beat in the Doncaster a fortnight later.

The Doncaster Handicap is a textbook Australian race that dates back to 1866. Because it's a handicap, every horse is weighted to give all of them an even chance, and there are often blanket finishes involving many horses—so basically any horse can win. Long shot winners, like Soho Square for Patrick in 1992, are not uncommon. Yosei was well suited to the 1600-metre handicaps as she would get back and then fly home. Yet she was always sent out at a good price.