Don’t worry, what you’re about to read is not an ode to the furry little b*****ds that tend to make themselves uninvited lodgers at this time year. Said rodents gave production to the type of local yarn every country town around germinates over time. Before my time, there was a man – I won’t mention any names but people of certain vintage will probably twig it – who was as good at manufacturing tall tales as he was the speciality products which constituted his day job. Now read on…
One day, the hero of this part of our story had one of the unwanted visitors referred to above and dropped into the local hardware to procure some means of eradicating same. A few days passed and the shopper was back in the shop at which point the owner asked his patron “Well, did you get your mouse”? To which the reply came “Oh I did alright, but about a thousand came to his funeral”!
Thankfully, the ‘Mouse’ who prompted production of what you’re reading shows no sign of going anywhere. A man literally descended from royalty. The pride of Fethard – Michael Morris officially, but, all over the racing world, better known as ‘Mouse’!
Now, I have no basis for the following other than a guess, but, it would be ventured the moniker refers to the mane which has now gone silver in its original form. At my own expense, it will be admitted that much of what Mouse achieved in racing had occurred either before my time or at least before I was properly attuned to racing.
However, despite that, I do have vivid recollections of horses such as War Of Attrition, Hear The Echo, Rule The World and Rogue Angel. As well as training all the above winners for Michael O’Leary’s Gigginstown House Stud, Mouse also played a huge role in the Ryanair boss’s wider racing operation because the preparation of and care for the maroon and white’s Point-to-Point horses was divided between Morris and Gordon Elliott.
As good as the security of knowing that work is there would have been for a trainer – especially one with as many years under the belt as Mouse has – when the O’Learys announced some years back that they were “Winding down” their horse racing operation, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that the trainer himself would also be scaling back.
Thankfully, neither prospect turned out to be true. On one hand, rather than winding up their operation, Gigginstown appear to have re-stocked in a big way, with the story being that the son of he who should be President of Ireland is keen on eventually assuming the reins of the horsey operation.
Whether ‘Mouse’ will benefit from the change of heart remains to be seen, but even if he doesn’t, you’d have to be made of stone not to be moved by the way the smokin’ trainer has bounced back. Not only in racing terms but also following the tragic passing of his son ‘Tiffer’ due to Carbon Monoxide poisoning in Argentina.
Not so long ago, the point was made in this space that when tragedy strikes a different force takes over to aid those afflicted with negotiation of the aftermath thereof. In the case of Mouse and his family, there’s no doubt Tiffer worked overtime.
Now, winning the Aintree Grand National would represent a lifetime’s achievement for a lot of trainers and I’m sure it is for MF Morris, but for it to happen so soon after his son’s death was more than just coincidence.
The scenes in Aintree’s parade ring after Rule The World had done just that would draw emotion from a stone. Not least the sight of a very young Charlie Mullins crying with pride after his brother David had just ridden the winner of the world’s greatest race.
What a great pity it was that the elder young Mullins decided to hang up the jodpurs just a few short years later in the greatest waste of natural talent since Paul Gascoigne went off the rails.
Anyway, naturally, all and sundry were elated yet emotional to see the now 72-year-old have such amazing day at the time. Though of course there was a bittersweet tinge to it also.
Sometimes, though, it’s impossible not to conclude everything in life happens for a reason. What I think was only nine days after the epic victory in Liverpool, the Right Honourable Michael Morris saddled a horse called Rogue Angel in Fairyhouse’s showpiece race.
Talk about having the right horse in the right place at the right time. For there’s no doubt Mouse’s Angel on high went Rogue on the bookies above when Ben Dalton steered the great man’s steed to complete the exceptional double.
Few if any could blame anybody if they’d decided to close the gallop gates after such a rollercoaster of a year. But, like farmers, I don’t believe the word ‘retire’ is in the lexicon of horse people.
To back up such an assertion, just at the way Fethard’s finest has rallied once more since the Gigginstown representation in his yard has ceased. Thanks to horses such as Get My Drift (John P. McManus) as well as infusions as bloodstock from owners such as the O’Flynn brothers and Brian Acheson’s Robcour operation.
However, no matter who you are – a fly half in rugby standing over a big kick, a darts player with match darts in hand or a snooker player waiting to pot the last black – until you land the big shot you’re not ‘there’. Or back ‘there’ as is the case with Mouse.
One of the knock on effects of fading from what was once perhaps a position of prominence, particularly in racing, is that if you do unearth another star, it can, to some degree at least, proceed slightly under the radar.
That was certainly the case when the maroon and mustard rug was swapped for one with ‘Charlie Hall Chase WINNER 2023’ on it to adorn Gentlemansgame following his gutsy victory in Wetherby’s seasonal course highlight despite the grey being sent off 7/2 third best of four in the betting. Bravemansgame, despite being sent off 10/11f, merely confirming his status as another Paul Nicholls horse automatically assigned superstar status simply because he resides in Ditcheat. A very good horse, don’t get me wrong, but not in the same parish as some of the luminaries of the sport to have graced those gallops before him.
Mouse, on the other hand, absolutely has another star in his midst. Plans are thought to be fluid for the 7-year-old, but, in the care of that man, nothing could be ruled out.
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