The time is almost upon us, what we’ve all been waiting for the past 12 months for four very special days each year. Whether its the ante post punter who has cleverly picked the winner of a particular race 12 months in advance, the owner who has waited all year plotting and planning the route they’ve taken to get their special moment in the sun, the jockey who’s gone through excessive injuries year in year out to get their chance to dine at the top table or the trainer who’s faced countless losses in the hope of one win. The yard workers and grooms, the forgotten keg in the wheel outside of the inner circle for their moment of glory or the breeder who’s been waiting five years + after the chance they took pairing their mare with whatever stallion on the hope they live out the dream. This is what we wait for.

Cheltenham for me has been instrumental for my passion and desire to work in this industry. I would happily face into countless hours of mucking out just to get a smell of one of the above. The world cup of national hunt racing, four days of congregation that celebrates the very best of what we have to offer. A healthy rivalry between Irish and UK runners, the battle for supremacy in both the training and riding ranks. This, for many of us involved in the sport is where we first caught sense of that famous bug. It is almost like a drug we can indulge in for four days every single year. There is simply no better high one person can get than watching their horse they backed, ridden, trained or owned come round that bend and power up the hill and across the line in front.

The whole thing began for me in the Beef Or Salmon era. I was too young to really remember Istabraq or understand the meaning of the wins. I loved Beef Or Salmon, and he used to love breaking my heart around March every year as I watched Best Mate be the nemesis he could never seem to beat. He always seemed to break it, but made up for it in December at the Lexus and February for the Irish Gold Cup. To see such a dominating force in Irish Racing always come up short at Cheltenham it was the first time I realised how competitive the sport really was.

Cheltenham is a different kettle of fish. It’s for me the best racing festival worldwide. Give Cheltenham to me ahead of Ascot, Epsom, Aintree and the likes. I’d love to get there as a licensed trainer hopefully in the not too distant future with a live chance. I want to bring about the same buzz around the country of Galway as there was for good old Presenting Percy. The time he won the RSA in particular the bars were wedged with people. On one Wednesday afternoon in March the whole of the county completely shut off waiting to see one horse, followed by an almighty eruption going over the last. There is one thing I am going to do in life. For one day at the very least I will shut Galway down by training a Cheltenham winner. If I breed it as well then all the better! To see how a collection of about a quarter of a million people in the county of Galway would support the horse we all called “Percy”, I am getting myself some of that. I don’t care how long I have to wait or how long I have to live for. If it was to happen me tomorrow I would die a happy man, but seeing a County come together like they did to support a horse trained in Athenry, there’s no greater dream than that. The tribesmen and women may get themselves ready though. There is a Portumna man with mad intentions about to be let loose in the not too distant future.

As a breeder, it’s a way of keeping my sanity some way in tact. Breeding National Hunt foals requires incredible patience. Five years minimum these lads and ladies wait for the success from their efforts over the five years previous. It stops me going completely crazy, as much as the paragraph previous states I’ve lost my marbles completely. The risk is huge, the reward is often underwhelming and even if the pedigree works out, there is a possibility the dam may have either been sold or past on because until five years pass, nobody actually knows how good the stock from the dam will be. The breeders that get their stock to Cheltenham are the ones who have an incredible eye for pedigree, stallion pairing and judgement to mix perfect trainable temperament with ability. It is exceptional what these people do and the horses they produce.

Before I go, I want to leave you with a story. Although it is the best of the best, Cheltenham is a place of incredible character. Regardless whether a horse Cost €600 or €600,000. Ability and desire to win in the horse determines which horse comes out on top. You think back to the likes of Norton’s Coin, trained in a village in Wales in the 70s by a dairy farmer, missed the race he wanted by a day and was left no option but to enter him in the Gold Cup in Cheltenham. Surrounded by Lords and Ladies turning up their noses at the man in a pair of wellies, just to see them all fall to the horse who went off 100-1 for the day. Think of Skyace, who was deemed a dud by the great Willie Mullins and became a dancer for The Shark Hanlon. Bought for €600, leaving Cathal McHugh and the Birdinthehand Syndicate questioning if she still had all limbs intact. A mare that was deemed a dud, to go forward to win a grade 1 and finish close to Tellmesomethingirl in Cheltenham. Think of Hewick. Not only was it  one of the only times Shark Hanlon ever got up from his lunch, but the horse literally brought him “From Galway To Graceland” to quote the fantastic folk song and win half a million in the space of one season, not to mention potential glory in the Cheltenham Gold Cup too. 

The stories that I can tell are on a list as long as my arm. Don’t get me started on Honeysuckle or I’ll be here all night. The three points I chose however signifies that Cheltenham is a place for everyone. Everyone has their own special story to tell, every owner goes through the same nerves at the start and mid race. Only a handful will be victorious in terms of winning, but everyone is a winner in Cheltenham. Just being there, whether its an owner, trainer, stable staff or jockey. Every single one is a winner to be associated with this magical four day festival. Experiencing that famous Cheltenham roar that can almost be heard in the depths of Connemara must feel like an out of body experience. Nothing will ever beat the feeling of being there.