Dual players are sadly a dying breed within the GAA. Even at club level. That is not to say there are not crossovers between our native games and other sports – there are indeed and they can be seen in both positive and negative lights. The negative hardly needs any further articulation, vis a vis the top young talents in football being pilfered by Australian Rules Football and Rugby and, even in a couple of cases, American Football.
In contrast, the positive aspects of crossovers with other sports largely revolve between GAA and horse racing. Indeed, from a personal perspective, you could make it a trifecta with GAA, horse racing and farming and be onto a winner every time.
No secret has ever been made of the fact that, in this seat, National Hunt will always be number one. Even though shares are held in a couple that ply their trade on the Flat. However, that in itself only came about because my ‘in’ to affairs on the level only came about because of some very high profile GAA personalities whom one is privileged to be close to.
As it happens, it is known that said GAA personalities are known to have attracted others of similar ilk – if not even greater standing – into the sport. That said, in the context of what you will read hereafter, it was another well known figure within our national games who pointed me in the direction of an equine superstar…eventually!
The Gael in question on that occasion being Cathal McCarthy, father of former Meath footballers John and Charlie, who quite simply said “Strap in and watch the hurricane fly”! At my own expense – particularly to my pocket – it will be admitted that I didn’t. For several reasons. First off, I was such an ardent Noel Meade fan at the time (still am and always will be), that if P. Carberry was legged up on a heifer representing Tu Va, it would have been punted on.
Secondly, with Ruby either working in England or injured/suspended, not as streetwise me saw P. Townend (3) down to ride I just assumed if it was any good Ruby would have stayed at home to partner it. Boy was I made to look like a naïve idiot when the young Corkonian had no more than a steering job to do aboard the Montjeu gelding. The biggest part of which was pulling him up.
So taken was this observer by the absolute procession put on by the French bred, that a vow was made to the effect of never, for as long as the horse would run, would he not be wagered upon. Yes, that often meant getting involved at ridiculously short odds – though never as cramped as the 1/16 which was taken about Un De Sceux one day in Fairyhouse. In either case, it was though, as the heavy hitters say, as good as buying money.
Every time the ‘Fly’ ran was a similar scenario. 22 Grade One victories. Just think about that. There are horses who don’t get to run 22 times in their entire lives. Or do get to run that amount but never win a cent. When my late father became involved with his great friend Ollie Cunningham and Spruce Cottage, by that time the retired undertaker had been in racing for a decade and the only reward attained from same was E1200 for Spruce coming second in a Fairyhouse bumper.
Yes, that’s a personal story but by any metrics, what Hurricane Fly achieved was nothing short of astonishing. And, while the horse obviously had to have the raw material with which to go to work, be in no doubt that the genius of Willie Mullins was the biggest contributory factor therein. If you want to go all the way back to having the highly astute Harold Kirk buying his bloodstock in France.
It’s one of the great things about jump racing that steeds tend to be long enough on the go for the racing public to develop an affinity with and affection for them. To the extent that merely having them on a card increased attendances tenfold.
Against that though, so delicate and precious are the really elite athletes – human or equine – that they tend to be wrapped in cotton wool and unleashed very seldom. Which makes occasions when they turn out all the more precious.
That, in turn, makes news of such horses being out of action rocks anybody with even a passing interest in affairs of the turf.
Which is why I can all too readily recall the somber mood which enveloped a Cheltenham Preview Night one was at with a dear, departed and much missed friend – the late, great Colm Murray when he got a phonecall informing that the Closutton superstar was out of the Prestbury Park showpiece which at that stage was only about ten days away at the time.
Now, I honestly can’t remember whether the late George Creighton’s animal ran in novice company on the occasion of his first race but from the time the one seeing eye encountered the blue and green silks it was clear that, in equine terms, this Fly could move with rapid dexterity and sting his contemporaries like a bee.
And, like other greats of the equine sphere such as Kauto Star or Big Buck’s or Moscow Flyer or Quevega, it was the longevity with which the Fly soared supreme which set him apart from what were, in fairness, high class contemporaries at the time.
Now, it’s perhaps trite that trainers will always trot out the line that a retiring steed was “Among the best (they’ve) ever trained”, but coming from W. P. Mullins the statement can be afforded even greater credence when one considers some of the Galactico equine greats that have been housed in Closutton.
With Hurricane, though, there was no need to substantiate such overtures as he very much let his hooves do the talking. And what dulcet tones they were.
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