the greatest: no debate necessary.

​“Which one is Ruby riding?” Is a question that can no longer be asked. Ruby has made the decision for each and every one of us. He will not be riding any horse in public ever again. His retirement will leave a hole in the sport in this country and especially his homeland as wide as the Grand Canyon. Indeed, in Ireland he is not only the greatest-ever jockey but one of its greatest-ever sporting icons. He is known far and wide not by his christened name but by the name of a precious jewel.
When A.P. was riding for Martin Pipe, setting records we couldn’t believe would ever be threatened let alone beaten, I used to say that the difference between Ruby and A.P. was that Ruby rarely rode a bad horse and A.P. rarely rode a good one. Thanks to J.P.McManus that changed in the latter years of A.P.’s career but it does reflect the two true differences between two of the greatest jockeys I or anyone will ever be lucky enough to witness in action. Ruby could write twenty chapters of a book dedicating each chapter to just one of the great horses he rode. A.P. could barely pen a 500-word essay devoted to the great horses he is associated with. While A.P. was establishing his legendary status by cajoling, wagonning and persuading through the greater force of his personality horses of dubious ability to win mediocre races at grassroot racecourses, Ruby was taking days off, readying himself for the good horses on the great occasions.
I read all the time about the great jockeys of the past – Winter, Freeman, Biddlecombe, Rees, and others – I cannot though believe that anyone outranks Ruby in the pantheon of greats. He was, no longer can I write or say ‘he is’ – the greatest jockey of my lifetime. I recommend his autobiography and urge him to write a second volume. He’s good at that, too. As he is at broadcasting his knowledge and thoughts through the medium of television.
My favourite Ruby ride was in winning on Un de Sceaux at Cheltenham when horsemanship was never better demonstrated.
 
Ruby didn’t have to bother much about his weight. But an excerpt from a book I am presently reading really brings home how great the change in society between now and days past has become. I will quote the opening sentence: ‘To men who remember the days when four stone was a weight often assigned to horses in great handicaps, it seems strange that the starting of a horse handicapped at six stones four pounds should be in doubt because neither of the two lightweight jockeys can be secured for him.’ No cream eggs or cream horns in those days. Rickets, yes, and malnutrition without a doubt. And no three-square meals a day. No takeaways, also. Lesson for us all, I suspect.
In 1852, 43 horses went to post for the Chester Cup – eye-opening if not eye-watering in itself – with six of the runners carrying four stone, one of which finished fourth.
The lightest a jockey has ever turned the scales is, not that you’ll believe me, two stone-thirteen pounds when George Thompson, then eight-years old, won a match race at York. He later went on to become one of the best amateurs of his time.
George Fordham won the Cambridgeshire when he scaled three stone thirteen pounds and the Chester Cup when his weight had ballooned to four-stone ten-pounds.
And James Doyle thinks he has it hard trying to do under nine-stone, though he is, one must concede, a fully-grown man and all the above were children. But it clearly demonstrates how molly-coddled, under-exercised and over-fed today’s children must be.
The one disappointment I have come across is that a contemporaneous article poured cold water on stories of apprentices being buried in the muck-heap in preparation for riding at a very light weight. A silly tale, John Osborne called the notion. I thought it highly believable.
What did surprise me was that when fasting a very small amount of food can easily put three or four pounds on a man, even if the actual weight of the food is much less. Richard Marsh wrote that when he was riding, before he turned his hand to training, he was offered a good ride that required him to slim down to eight-stone, seven-pounds, whereupon having reached the required weight he allowed himself the comfort of a small sherry and the lean part of a small chop. Three hours later he found himself to be three pounds heavier.
In comparison to the ‘olde’ days, modern jockeys have it oh so easy, don’t they?