Little did I know that Colin Turner, friend and professional racing photographer, would not only send Ami the photos he had taken of me over the years but also enclose a handwritten letter with a moving account of my fall as he witnessed it – he was the person standing closest to the scene of the accident as it happened.
Little did I know that Joanna would be so forthcoming with her time, her friendship and her affection with regards to the book. Nor that her memory was so good – she even remembers the pub we went to on our first date (The Hole in the Wall in Great Wilbraham!) and, amazingly, what I ate (chicken and chips!).
Little did I know that Simon McNeill, Robbie Supple, William Jordan, Simon Claisse and Ian Bartlett would give us such a heartfelt reception at Cheltenham Racecourse when we visited it as part of our research for the book.
Little did I know that my old saddle still lived in the weighing room there on Leighton Aspell’s saddle rack.
Little did I know that Professor John Miles would say to me that he remembered ‘every single detail’ of my operation and would offer to share these with Ami and myself over lunch in the village in Wales, where he now lives a peaceful, retired life with his lovely wife, Enid.
Little did I know that Professor Paul Eldridge, Senior Consultant at The Walton Centre for Neurology and Neurosurgery, would give up several hours of his busy day to show us around the hospital, the wards and the ICU to allow us to recreate the hospital scenes with such authenticity.
Little did I know that the hospital administrators had a ‘surprise’ for me – in a small box, saved with great care for over twenty years, lay the breeches, riding boots and goggles that I had been wearing when I was brought to the hospital, unconscious.
Little did I know there was so much I didn’t know.
My heartfelt thanks to all of the above named people. Your kindness humbles me. This book would not have been complete without you.
There are two people without whom – very simply – I wouldn’t be alive: Professor John Miles and Joanna. My life is a testament to two things: one, your abilities to heal, and two, your faith in my will to rise.
There are many others who are vital to my story, and therefore to my life. In no particular order, I would like to express immense gratitude to:
Barney Curley, thank you for being the man behind it all.
Ross Campbell, for your friendship over the years and for inspiring the weighing-room scene in this book.
Marten Julian, my agent who became an agent because I needed an agent. I am honoured and not in the least overwhelmed that you would dedicate your book Strictly Classified to me. You are absolutely right when you say in it that it was my spirit – and solely my spirit – that kept me alive, but of course, I am not surprised that you understand this.
The late Francis O’Callaghan for his irreplaceable mentorship at such an influential time of my life and for believing with such conviction that there was nothing I couldn’t do.
The late Pat Eddery, for his invaluable advice on how best to ride Jibereen; I owe a big part of my winning comeback to your voice inside my head.
The late Josh Gifford, for giving me some of the best rides of my career and, more importantly, for being the man in the movie.
The late Jim Hogan, for his unwavering loyalty and all that it meant to me.
Yarmi, you were my greatest friend and my greatest frustration, both! But I live with the knowledge that you would have given your life for me and I don’t know how one repays anyone for that.
Everyone who wished me well at the hospital and cheered me on at Chepstow, I thank you. Friendship is for all times; for offering hope in the bad times, for celebrating the good times – and you did both.
My brothers Pat and Eamon for giving so much of your time to help me revisit a very dark period in my life; of course, for your support, and for that of the rest of the Murphy family during that period, I will be forever grateful.
One of the most gifted riders I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, my sister Kathleen, whose close friendship in our youth fuelled many of the most endearing stories in this book.
My wife, Zulema, for being as rock solid as you are, and for the love and support you have shown, not only through this project, but through thick and thin. And for giving me our beautiful daughter, no thanks will ever be enough.
My daughter, Sienna. When I sometimes wonder why I woke from my coma, I look at you and I know the answer. You fill me with joy, you fill me with happiness, you complete my life.
Ami, in telling my story, you have set me free.
I feel alive to the fabric and the texture, the weight and the wonder of my life.
I want to be the person in this book. I want to be me. I feel proud to be me.
It has taken courage to be this honest and there is nothing more uplifting than having the freedom to say this openly.
Still, it hasn’t been without its fair share of drama. Given my memory loss, Ami and I have had to piece my story together like some elaborate Cubist construction, bit by bit, slowly and painstakingly, the scattered pieces of a giant jigsaw that make up the life of a man; a process that has been heart-breaking, heart-warming and liberating, all at the same time.
The first time I tell her about the lost years, she questions how this book can even be written. ‘How do you possibly tell a story you can’t remember?’ she asks. Quite rightly.
A few days later, she is over her private moment of panic. ‘It’s not going to be easy,’ she says. ‘The book. It doesn’t mean we won’t try to make it amazing, but it won’t be easy. It might hurt. Actually, to make it good, it’ll have to hurt. We’re going to need to compensate. I need to know everything about you that you can remember. Everything. What makes you tick, what keeps you up at night, the crimes you have committed, the songs you sing in the shower, your pleasures, your pain, your unrequited loves, your greatest insecurities, your memories, your music, your mind …’
And so the same person who thought his story was too private to talk about, tells her whatever she wants to be told. I tell her everything.
Later, I say, ‘I have cried more tears because of you and this book than I ever imagined crying, for anything, in my entire life.’
She says, ‘That, there, just made this whole thing worth it.’
Ami’s Note
In the orange October of 2015, some mad urge possessed me to make the most reckless of claims. I said to Declan Murphy, ‘I could write your book.’
There was nothing we had in common, save a fascination for the same city, a love of horses, a penchant for words and a zest for life. Which made me about as qualified to write the life story of a former jockey as a penguin is qualified to write on the mechanics of flight.
And so – more importantly – when I wonder what mad urge possessed him to take that chance on me, I don’t have an answer. Fate or Providence, I will never know.
But Declan’s life is a triumph of human resilience. And this is a story that needed to be told. That much I have always known.
What I could never have known is that in telling it, I would unknowingly gain so much.
There is a line in the book that stands out in my mind: ‘We are capable of infinitely more than we think.’
Many people have remarked to me over the course of this past year that Centaur mustn’t have been an easy book to write. It wasn’t. But this had less to do with my lack of familiarity with the subject matter and more, much more, to do with how much of myself I needed to give, to feel what I needed to feel to be able to write this story. The authenticity of the emotion that runs through the book is the pulse of Centaur.
To write the kind of book we wanted to write, we had to go back many times into the depths of darkness, to that place where hope almost died. To see a grown man – a strong, proud, grown man – cry openly in front of you is a life experience. And yet we shied away from nothing.
I applaud my subject for his courage. Honesty takes a whole lot of courage.
Indeed, in the spirit of honesty and to fully appreciate how this book was written, it is necessary to mention Declan’s memory loss. There was a consequence of bringing the knife to the brain. A life had been saved, but there was a price to pay. There are years missing, significant ones; ones that would prove crucial to the telling of his story. But – together – we soldiered on, despite it. And perhaps with stronger resolve, because of it. Time lost and time regained have been some of the most complex and fascinating concepts that Centaur explores.
Accordingly, the portrayals of the races in this book – or, for that matter, most of the goings on in Declan Murphy’s world between October 1989 and May 1994 – are not just generic recountings of how a sportsman remembers his career. Instead, they have been put together, stride by stride, fence by fence, through the meticulous research of archives, endless readings of news clippings, repeated viewings of YouTube videos, and countless conversations with people, over and over and over again. The result, ultimately, is the story of his life, coloured by my imagination; an intricate reconstructed collage where real things are embedded within, and enhanced by, the fiction of the mind. We do this because of our circumstances, because we need the beauty of multiple perspectives on the many unanswered whats, whys, whos and whens, floating like snowflakes through this spectacular deception of Time. For me, never has any endeavour proved more challenging – and equally, more joyful.
My biggest rewards in writing this book are the people I have met from previously unknown worlds, who have taught me that learning never stops. The world of racing is as fascinating as it is different from the world of medicine – in assisting with my research, I would like to thank, in equal part, Declan Murphy’s racing friends, fans and associates; and the exceptionally talented team at The Walton Centre. I stand in awe and have such deep respect for how sanguine people are in these lines of work. The universal willingness to help, just for helping’s sake, says something really positive about humanity.
My special thanks go to Declan’s warm-hearted, fun-loving and authentically Irish family – we met as strangers and ended up as friends – thank you for opening your homes and hearts to me.
Jo – meeting you has been serendipitous in so many ways. You were my most unexpected treat, a true kindred spirit. How can I ever thank you enough for giving us ‘Joanna’.
If not for the two Tims – Tim Hayward and Tim Bates – Centaur could not have been brought to life.
Tim Hayward – writer, broadcaster, restaurateur – my gratitude to you knows no bounds. Thank you for your belief in my pen. And thank you for ‘paying it forward’.
Tim Bates, you are indeed, in Tim Hayward’s words, a ‘cracking good agent’. We wouldn’t be here if not for your smarts and your guidance in championing our cause – I can’t believe how lucky Declan and I are to have found you.
We can never fully express our appreciation to the truly exceptional team at Transworld for your generosity, conviction and confidence in this story. A sea of gratitude to our editor Giles Elliott, for your unchecked enthusiasm and true understanding of what we were setting out to do. But mostly, for inhabiting our book. We’ve learnt that it takes Herculean behind-the-scenes efforts to get from words on a laptop to a real, live book. Vivien Thompson, Helena Gonda and Leon Dufour, please take a bow. Rebecca Wright, the cleverest copy-editor on the island, without you this book would be longer, ‘wronger’ … and worse. Every writer needs an Alison Barrow on their side and we were fortunate enough to have her on ours – your vision has allowed Centaur the opportunity to reach every reader it was written for.
My deepest thanks to my family and close friends for your encouragement, advice and good sense. Especially to my mother, for reading countless iterations of every chapter with such a keen and insightful eye. My boys, Ranbir and Reyaan, for your infectious exuberance for everything I do – every girl needs her cheerleaders.
I have only been able to write Centaur in the timeframe it was written because of my husband, Sid: my first reader, my toughest critic and my greatest strength – without your support neither I nor this book would be.
At the end, I need to go back to the beginning, and the story of Centaur begins with the story of one extraordinary man. The enormity of shouldering the responsibility of writing someone’s life story – especially one where chunks are lost – had me shrouded in a smog of self-doubt so many times. And yet, the person who had most to lose from my mistakes never once doubted me or my ability. He believed. Declan’s positivity – idealism, even – with this book has given me limitless power as a writer.
Declan Murphy – your life is your greatest celebration; your story is mine. Thank you for trusting me with both.
We are capable of infinitely more than we think.
About the Authors
Declan Murphy was born in rural Limerick on 5 March 1966. Like most of his seven siblings, he took to riding horses from an early age and after being spotted by Ireland’s top trainers became a leading amateur jockey while at school. He then moved to England and rode a host of winners in races as prestigious as the Champion Chase and Mackeson Gold Cup, as well as two Irish Champion Hurdles, before a near-fatal accident on Arcot at Haydock Park in May 1994. Eighteen months later he rode a final winner, Jibereen, at Chepstow.
Ami Rao is a British-American writer who was born in Calcutta and has lived and worked in New York City, London, Paris, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Ami has a BA in English Literature from Ohio Wesleyan University and an MBA from Harvard Business School. As a self-proclaimed foodie, she has written before for Tim Hayward’s Fire & Knives. She has always been ‘absolutely horse mad’ and rides regularly in her spare time. Centaur is her debut book.
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Doubleday
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Declan Murphy and Ami Rao 2017
Design by Leon Dufour/TW
Horse photo © iStock/mari_art
Declan Murphy and Ami Rao have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the authors of this work.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
All images supplied courtesy of the authors.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473542044
ISBNs 9780857524355 (hb)
9780857524362 (tpb)
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