WHEN the flag is raised beneath the almighty gaze of Cleeve Hill for next month’s Supreme Novices’ Hurdle, Cheltenham will bellow its customary roar.

There will be anticipation. There will be excitement. But make no mistake, there will be a different, raw emotion carried through the hallowed air in that roar.

For a moment, at least, many of us among the Festival faithful will not have our thoughts towards the stars set to shine on Prestbury Park that week. Instead, they will be with one star who is not there. One we dearly wish was there. A supreme loss we all have felt so keenly during this past week.

Being tasked with riding a leading fancy in the curtain-raiser for the biggest four days in racing comes with a pressure in its own right. That pressure goes up a notch when you’ve never been in this situation before; when you were competing in the amateur ranks only months earlier.

It ratchets up another notch again, when the trainer effectively declares to the world in the build-up that your mount is a Grade 1 certainty.

That pressure is not for everyone.

Fortunately for Marine Nationale, Barry Connell and their merry bandwagon of supporters, Michael O’Sullivan was not just any jockey stepping out on the biggest stage that day. At a remarkably mature 23 years old, he was an unflappable, walking example of the old adage that pressure makes diamonds. And, boy, did he shine.

When the spotlight was at its most intense at the top of the hill - when Paul Townend cannily stole a march aboard Facile Vega turning in - the young rider matched the moment. He seized his opportunity and used it as a chance to show off his very best. It was cool, it was class, it was Michael all over.

On that Tuesday afternoon in March 2023, Michael announced to the world the talent that those closest to him had identified and helped hone from an early age. He stood tall in the irons and let out a mighty roar of his own. It is a moment that will now live on in National Hunt folklore after the tragic events of the past fortnight.

Watching replays of his most famous triumph on television and social media this week has been a source of both pain and pride. It almost does not seem real to comprehend that the bright eyes and hearty smile that glistened on that spring day will not be seen again.

Humility and courage

For his parents, William and Bernie, his brother Alan, his partner Charlotte, wider family, close friends and colleagues, these days will have carried an unimaginable hurt, yet they have worn it with such humility and courage.

And, in these darkest of hours, there has been light. The worst of times has brought out the best in people, as communities rallied in their support behind the O’Sullivans - a smashing family full of substance, who Michael always spoke so proudly of, and was grateful to.

While he was never an individual outwardly lacking self-belief, surely even Michael would have been bowled over by the depth of tributes from around the world in his honour this week. As parish priest Fr Gerard Coleman summed up at Wednesday’s funeral service at St John the Baptist Church in Glantane: “He made a lasting impression on everyone. He won the hearts of the Irish people. Everyone loved him.” Pain and pride in such loss and love.

Even though his Cotswolds double will rightfully be remembered as the focal point of a burgeoning career cruelly cut short, when I think of a prime example of Michael O’Sullivan’s talents, I think back to a race well away from the bright lights of Cheltenham.

In a low-key, summer maiden hurdle at Kilbeggan in July 2023, Michael rode a horse called Hardwired for Ted Walsh, and it stands out as one of the finest pieces of horsemanship I ever watched him produce.

Outside-the-box approach

Context is all-important here. Hardwired, despite having hinted at winning ability on a few occasions, headed to the midlands track as a winless, 21-race maiden. Michael was the latest jockey tasked with getting a winning tune out of him, after eight other riders - including several multiple-Grade 1-winning pilots - had tried and failed.

To put it mildly, Hardwired wasn’t the most straightforward to win with. To put it in the more direct words of his trainer, the horse could be “a bit of a toe-rag”.

Once the tapes went up, it was almost as if Michael wanted the 22/1 shot to think he wasn’t in a race at all. He essentially got detached from the well-backed leader towards the rear, and traded as big as 139/1 in-running, though he never panicked.

Even on the lengthy run to the final flight, Michael effectively still hadn’t moved a muscle in a remote fourth. It was almost unusual to watch in real time. He allowed his blinkered mount to gain confidence by passing one beaten rival, then two, and then - only then - called on him for an effort as late as he possibly could.

Without ever raising his stick, he gradually clawed back the deficit until managing to nail the well-fancied leader in the shadows of the post with an All-Ireland of a ride. It was the victory that also saw him ride out his claim. An awesome effort that offered further evidence that he wasn’t just all about the big occasion.

Much like one of my strongest impressions of Michael as a rider coming away from the spotlight, my fondest memories of him as a human were found in conversations beyond the racecourse too.

There was so much quality to him as an individual, ambitious and eager to improve at every opportunity in a professional sense, but there was great life to him away from racing. The sunglasses brought to the altar as a symbol of his love of a good life raised a smile on a dark day this week. His sense of dress was often sharp, as was his intelligent wit.

Great company

He could give a good slagging and didn’t mind a bit of devilment - as his great friend Ben Harvey went home well aware of, after a UCD Cheltenham preview night last spring. His determination (ultimately in vain) to get a replay on the big screen of Ben being beaten on Constitution Hill in a point-to-point was comparable to his winning Boodles drive on Jazzy Matty, but it was all in great humour - and he could take every bit of slagging back about “falling off” Good Land, and anything else that was thrown his way.

Thankfully, only once in my time as a journalist has recording equipment failed on me for an interview, and it happened while recording a podcast segment with Michael. After a cursed error message popped up on screen and the recording file was found to be unusable, I dreaded having to ask him for his time all over again, but he never once batted an eyelid. Michael answered every question with the same level of enthusiasm, as if it was the first time he’d done so. I can assure you that not everyone would demonstrate such patience on their own time. It was always appreciated.

A shared love for country music - artists like Luke Combs, Morgan Wallen and Zach Bryan - was a rich source of conversation beyond racing. As touched on by his father William on Wednesday, he relished the concerts attended with his friends and weighing room allies.

It was actually the lyrics of a Luke Combs song, Even Though I’m Leaving, that came to mind this week when reflecting on the lasting impact that Michael will have on the lives he touched: “Just ‘cause I’m leaving, it don’t mean that I won’t be right by your side… I might be here, but I’ll always be right there. Even though I’m leaving, I ain’t going nowhere.”

In the toughest of times ahead for those closest to him, let there be no doubt that Michael will remain right there with them in spirit.

When that famous roar rises up to the heavens from Prestbury Park next month, he will be in our hearts and minds. Michael, you won’t ever be forgotten.