Not Enough Time

by Henrietta Knight

  Terry and I always liked to assess jumping ability, since good jumpers have obvious advantages both in hurdle races and steeplechases. Jumping is the name of the game. Most horses can be taught to jump, but the ones with natural talent from an early age often prove to be the best. At non-thoroughbred sales where young sport horses are presented there are always facilities for loose jumping, which is a bonus to vendors and buyers alike. Despite enjoying our visits to Fairyhouse and also to the sales at Goffs in Kill, close to the town of Naas in Co. Kildare, Terry and I gradually found that we preferred buying horses either out of point-to-points, or else from certain individuals at their own establishments. Under these conditions we could view horses contesting races, or else watch them being ridden on home gallops or loose jumping. For this reason, our annual visits to horse sales gradually petered out as we acquired more contacts in Ireland’s country areas.

  Our excursions to the Irish point-to-points were always memorable. We were usually guided by a very good friend of ours, Michael Moore. The Moore family is well-connected in the horse world and under the banner of Ballincurrig Stud produces many young horses for clients at the major sales in Ireland. In the 1990s, Terry introduced Michael to Terry Court of Brightwells, and for many years Michael had an extremely prominent role within the sales company. He recruited some of the top point-to-point horses from the Emerald Isle and from Northern Ireland for the Cheltenham sales.

  On point-to-point days we often flew to Cork on a Sunday morning. It fitted in well with racing in the UK because there were seldom many race meetings at home on Sundays. We usually stayed in a lovely hotel in Co. Cork called Ballymaloe House, near Ballycotton Bay. The Ballymaloe Cookery School is well known throughout the world and the Allen family has made it one of the most sought-after places to learn about cooking at the top level. Darina and Rachel Allen, who often make appearances on television and have written numerous cookery books, have been called the food ambassadors of Ireland. Darina is an amazing person, and her mother-in-law, Myrtle Allen, who started it all with her husband, Ivan, is a special lady. Terry admired her hugely and was always on his best behaviour in her presence. He enjoyed talking to her.

  Whenever we travelled to the Irish point-to-points, Michael did plenty of homework beforehand and scrutinised the pedigrees of the four- and five-year-olds entered in the maiden races. He knew exactly who trained the horses and how they had been prepared. He also introduced us to many interesting people. At the point-to-points, Terry and I first looked at all the horses in the paddock, then watched them carefully in their races.

  Terry had an amazing talent for spotting potential stars. It was at Carrigtwohill point-to-point in 1998 that he picked out Lord Noelie as a raw five-year-old. The horse did not jump particularly well, nor did it win, but Terry considered him exceptionally promising because of the way he galloped and stayed on at the end of the race. The next day we visited the stables belonging to his owner, Louis Archdeacon. Noelie was not an impressive horse to look at; indeed, he appeared extremely lean and hungry, but I agreed with Terry there was something one had to like. He had good forelegs, a lovely head and he was a straight, light mover. This horse went on to win the Sun Alliance Chase at the Cheltenham Festival in 2000, having been bought by a most enthusiastic syndicate, Executive Racing. He gave us some memorable days on the racecourses in England.

  Michael Moore has many memories of Terry and always tells a certain story about him. ‘Hen and Terry had flown over for a local point-to-point one Sunday morning. I received my normal phone call from Hen to say that they had landed at the airport and were setting off in their hired car. I remember being worried that the journey seemed to be taking them so long. I was waiting at the entrance to the horsebox park for them to arrive. Finally, they both turned up with broad smiles on their faces. Terry had found himself in a major spot of bother when a call of nature meant that he urgently needed a gent’s lavatory. They had been travelling down a country road with only very few houses in sight when, rounding a corner, they came across a solitary pub.

  ‘However, it was only ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. The pub was closed and the owners in bed. This tested Terry’s patience to the limit. He knocked on the door and the windows, then rang the bell. Eventually, a frail old lady appeared at the door. On being asked, without preamble, where the “shithouse” was situated, she nearly fell down in shock. Luckily Terry’s charm won the day. From then on all the directions that I gave to Hen for the point-to-points in the Cork area focused around “Terry’s shithouse” – it went down in my family’s folklore. Every time I think of Terry, I always have a smile. It was a privilege to have known him.’

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  We both loved the Irish point-to-points. I used to worry about losing Terry in the crowds because he never had a mobile phone, but luckily he was easy to spot in his emerald green Puffa jacket. It carried the Channel 4 logo, and had been given to him by Jim McGrath. Terry was usually at some strategic spot watching the horses race, or having a small wager with the bookies. He loved getting a good price on a horse he fancied. He went round with his pocket full of euros, but he never dared risk more than ten euros per race. He took an amazing amount of exercise on those days, often climbing fences to watch the horses race past him. Sometimes he hurt himself by jumping over ditches or over gates and could barely walk afterwards. I well remember a day at Kildorrery point-to-point, close to Fermoy, in Co. Cork, when his back gave out completely and he was doubled up in pain. Michael Moore and I had one hell of a job getting him back to my hired fourtrack vehicle. It was even worse the next day when I borrowed a wheelchair at Cork Airport. He gave orders to everybody and behaved like a naughty child.

  On another occasion, at a point-to-point in Co. Waterford, the boot of a car shut on Terry’s head. We had been enjoying one of Mrs Moore’s famous picnics – smoked salmon sandwiches and chocolate éclairs – when suddenly the tailgate of the car collapsed. Terry was in considerable pain afterwards and reckoned that he had put his neck out. At that time, we were staying with Enda Bolger for the night and he suggested that his neighbour, Fran Stone, should come and look at Terry’s injuries. As Fran remembers, ‘I got an emergency call from Enda, who used to call me “The Medicine Woman”, to go down asap that evening to manipulate Terry into place. He was disappointed that I didn’t need him to undress. However, his flirting words were stopped abruptly when I crunched the first disc back into place. Several choice expletives followed, interspaced with soft pleas not to hurt him. Enda and company, myself included, were doubled up with laughter, as the whole operation was conducted on the sitting room carpet – the best floor show Terry ever gave! Thankfully, he was cured and was able to enjoy the rest of that particular Irish stay. He even enquired whether I could return the following day to give him a massage.’

  It was in late February 1999 that Terry and I had our most memorable visit to a point-to-point. It was the West Waterford point-to-point at Lismore and it was there that we spotted our future stable star, Best Mate, for the first time. The point-to-point is staged in a most attractive part of Ireland, in the grounds of Lismore Castle, on the banks of the Blackwater River, which is famous for salmon fishing in the spring and summer. It was a typical Irish winter’s day: wet, grey and dreary. The car parks were virtually unusable and hundreds of cars were parked down side roads and avenues to avoid the mud. The opening race was all-important, because it was for maiden four-year olds – horses that had never won before. Despite the atrocious conditions, sixteen of them had been declared.

  The unsuspecting youngsters, already saddled up, were led across a muddy grass field from the horsebox park to a roped-off area beside the secretary’s tent. This was the parade ring, and especially keen spectators gathered round in the pouring rain to look at the horses. Terry and I stood at the entrance to this pen and watched every horse go by, trying to assess them as possible future stars, but it wasn’t easy under those dreadful conditions.

  As the horses walked round and r
ound, one of them stood out: a 16.3-hand bay gelding called Best Mate. He seemed unperturbed by the rain and marched through the mud with his head held high. Terry spotted him at once. He loved his alert manner and the athletic way in which he moved. Best Mate came from the Tom Costello yard in Co. Clare. We had heard a lot about these Costello horses, but had never ventured to Tom’s establishment. What we did know, however, was that he had already been responsible for five Cheltenham Gold Cup winners and that another famous horse, Florida Pearl, had made a winning debut in the four-year old maiden race at Lismore in 1996. This point-to-point track was notorious for producing good horses and so was Tom Costello.

  As the horses made their way to the start we watched them canter across the heavy ground to a line of trees alongside the estate wall. Here they walked in a big circle before being lined up for the off. Many of the runners looked green and unsure of themselves. Several were barely four years old. Terry was impressed by the fact that Best Mate made his way sensibly to the start. He looked well-balanced and held himself correctly with an arched neck and his head close to the ground.

  Terry watched him carefully from the moment the tapes went up until he was pulled up three fences from home, despite still being full of running. The horse had jumped superbly and Terry liked everything that he saw. We did not buy Best Mate that day because he was not for sale – his owners wanted him to win a race before putting him on the market – but I put him in my notebook and we waited until he raced again a few weeks later. On that occasion, he won a four-year old maiden race at Tuam in Co. Galway, but it was only a two-horse affair and the other runner was a mare. It would have been disappointing if he had been beaten.

  We did not see our future champion in that second race, but fortunately we were at another point-to-point in Ireland the same weekend, which meant that we could drive to Tom Costello’s yard on the Monday morning. The narrow and winding approach to his house, Fenloe, runs beside the shores of a strikingly beautiful lake and nature reserve, where various species of wildlife are always to be seen. The entrance to Fenloe overlooks the lake, and as we drove through the gateway and up the short drive, we were immediately impressed by the extreme tidiness of it all. The tarmac roadway was edged by well-kept grass verges. The fields, surrounded by stone walls or wooden railings, were immaculate. Several groups of part-Charolais beef cattle – all in perfect condition – grazed contentedly as we passed by. There were superb views across these fields to the woods and hills beyond. Magnificent old trees completed a scene that was idyllic in every way. As we were to learn later, attention to detail was one of the hallmarks of Tom’s establishment.

  The man himself was waiting on the steps of his house as we drove up to the front door. He was intently watching our arrival. Terry parked the car facing away from the house. He always did this wherever we went so that we could make a quick exit if we did not like the horses we had come to see. As it turned out, Terry could have parked the car anywhere that Monday morning. We saw two horses in the stable yard. Both of them had won their point-to-points. One, of course, was Best Mate, but we also looked at another potential superstar, called Be My Manager. We loved them both and after spending a considerable amount of time discussing their special qualities, we put our names down for the pair. The only fly in the ointment was that we had to find owners within the next forty-eight hours. People had constantly been ringing Tom up, trying to buy them and he did not particularly want to sell both horses to the same trainer. Be My Manager was the best horse on paper and was listed at the top of the Irish point-to-point form book, Formcard. Best Mate was not even mentioned in the top ten. But we couldn’t leave him behind.

  It is never easy to find the right owners at the right time, but these two four-year-olds at Tom Costello’s looked exceptional. We longed to have both of them in our yard. By Tuesday morning we had talked to one of our most loyal and straightforward owners, Charles Cadogan, and although the price was high, he agreed to buy Be My Manager. We were delighted with the news. But we had to ask Tom to wait another forty-eight hours in order to persuade a second owner to take a look at Best Mate. At this point, fate came to the rescue, because we decided to tell Jim Lewis about Best Mate. I had trained Jim’s first winner at Wincanton in 1989; the horse was called Pearl Prospect. I knew Jim liked French-bred horses; in fact, he had just sent us a new horse from France called Edredon Bleu. By a lucky coincidence, Best Mate’s pedigree was French, not Irish.

  I remember sending a fax message to Jim (there were no emails in those days) and I wrote, ‘Dear Jim, Terry and I have just seen the horse of our dreams. He is in Ireland but he is French-bred.’ Amazingly, Jim agreed, at once, to travel to Ireland to see the horse. On 29 March 1999, we met Jim and his wife, Valerie, at Heathrow Airport and the four of us flew together to Shannon. Tom Costello met us at the airport and within half an hour we were once more walking up to the front door at Fenloe. We did not spend long in the house and neither Terry nor I dared to breathe as we followed Tom up his garden path to the yard. Jim and Valerie caught their first glimpse of their future star as Best Mate walked out of his stable, across the cobbles and onto the smooth tarmac. He stood to attention in the sunshine, looking superb, before being led through sliding doors into a huge indoor school.

  Along the sides of this rectangular building were two jumps. One of these comprised timber poles balanced on large oil barrels, and the other one was a big plastic steeplechase fence – it was over four feet high. I remember that we all stood in the middle of the enclosure as Best Mate was let loose. He cantered round and round the outside, bucking and squealing on the soft, sandy surface, before jumping the two obstacles correctly every time. He never made the slightest mistake and looked a supreme athlete. Jim was impressed.

  Later, when we returned to the house, Tom took his prospective buyer into a small room. Ten minutes later, they emerged with smiles on their faces: they had shaken hands and agreed on a price. Jim told us later that we could have the horse to train. What a day. The fairy story had begun.

  After our introduction to the Costello family in 1999 and the buying of Best Mate, we continued to forge excellent links with Tom and his five sons. On many occasions during the next ten years, we flew over to Shannon Airport and looked at other horses they were offering for sale. We had some memorable visits. Racing Demon, Calgary Bay and Somersby confirmed the Costello skills in producing National Hunt horses to race at the top level. The Costello boys have now produced eight Cheltenham Gold Cup winners, including The Thinker, Cool Ground, Imperial Call and Midnight Court. They have a tried-and-tested system, buying their horses as foals or yearlings before teaching them to jump as two-year-olds. Terry and I had huge respect for Tom Senior, who, sadly, died in 2009, and we continued to do business with the family in the ensuing years. Tom Junior and brothers John, Dermot, Adrian and Tony have sent some top horses over to West Lockinge Farm. When I stopped training in 2012, many of my former owners wanted to go on buying horses from the family.

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  The beauty of the Costello horses was that they had been well broken and were unspoilt. Also, there was very little walking for Terry and it was an easy journey to Shannon. We were usually collected from the airport, which is only fifteen minutes from the Costello home town of Newmarket on Fergus. There was one occasion, however, when we were supposed to be travelling over to Co. Clare with a very good owner, Ann Humphries, but we never arrived at our destination. After boarding the plane at Heathrow and sitting down in his seat by the window, Terry blacked out. I thought he had died, because I could not get a glimmer of movement from him. He slumped over towards me and my own heart almost stopped beating. Paramedics were called. Take-off had to be delayed. Fortunately, we had no baggage in the hold. Terry was carried out of the aeroplane on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance on the tarmac. He had regained consciousness but was extremely confused. Ann and I followed him down the steps. It was frightening.

  We were sent back through the terminal to collect our vehi
cles from the car parks and eventually joined Terry in the hospital at Hillingdon, by which time he was giving out to everybody and was extremely perky. We stayed at the hospital all day and Terry had numerous tests. Eventually he was diagnosed as having low blood pressure and dehydration. Poor Ann; she had travelled a long way from Upton-on-Severn and we never did get to see any horses in Ireland. I drove Terry home in the evening and put him to bed. I insisted that he kept quiet, but he appeared normal the next morning.

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  Ann’s travels with us seemed doomed. A few years earlier she had accompanied us to the Tattersalls Derby Sale at Fairyhouse, but on that occasion Terry had collapsed in agony on the floor of the hotel with gallstones. After that, he had his gall bladder removed. How glad I was that, the year before, we had been lucky enough to find Ann a good mare in Co. Tipperary called Hati Roy who was owned by Elizabeth Kennedy and had won a point-to-point in Wexford. She later won several good races in England, including a chase at Cheltenham in October 2000, which fulfilled one of Ann’s greatest ambitions.

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  Terry and I also enjoyed viewing point-to-point horses at Wilson Dennison’s home in Northern Ireland and managed to select some useful recruits from his beautiful estate at Loughanmore in Co. Antrim, where we could see them jumping. Wilson became a great friend of ours; assisted by the successful trainer Ian Ferguson, he buys some lovely young horses from the major sales. Over the years Wilson has been responsible for many high-class winners on either side of the Irish Sea, including Bindaree, who won the Grand National in 2002. Coincidentally, he bought Bindaree from Tom Costello as a yearling.