THAT was as big a winner as I’ve ever ridden, Tiger Roll in the 2014 Triumph Hurdle. For all the reasons. Initially, I only had one ride on Gold Cup day, the last day of the 2014 Cheltenham Festival. Lord Windermere, a 20/1 shot in the Gold Cup itself. If I was going to ride a winner at the 2014 Cheltenham Festival, I was going to have to win the Gold Cup on a 20/1 shot.

Then, all of a sudden, wham. Things change, you have a ride in the Triumph Hurdle, you win the Triumph Hurdle, and suddenly you’re gone from being an ordinary rider to being a good rider again. In the space of six minutes, on a ride you didn’t have, on a horse you didn’t know. And then you’re walking on air again. And you’re going into the Gold Cup with a winner in the bag and all the confidence that that brings.

Barry Geraghty shook my hand as we pulled up after the Triumph Hurdle, Brian Hughes, Noel Fehily, Mark Bolger. It’s hard to describe, a winner at Cheltenham. Pat Healy was there to take the photographs. I did the angel wings again, for Martin Budds. Alice Plunkett interviewed me for Channel 4.

You come back into the winner’s enclosure on a high, all celebrations, all well-dones. You’re floating, you’re full of confidence. It wasn’t that I thought I had done anything wrong up to that point. All the horses I had ridden over the course of the first three days at Cheltenham, I was happy that I had given them all good rides, I was sure in myself that I had given all of them the best possible chance they could have had of winning. I wouldn’t have changed anything on any of the rides I had given any of the horses. They just weren’t good enough.

Confidence restored

But a winner changes everything. You’ve got the job done, you’ve achieved the objective. All the accolades. Brilliant ride. Everyone happy. It’s a relief too, your name on the board. Another Cheltenham winner, another year with a Cheltenham winner.

You can become a different rider at Cheltenham after you’ve ridden a winner. You feel like you can do anything, you feel like you own the place. You ride a couple of losers, you can start to shrivel up a bit, doubts creep in, confidence starts to seep away. But ride a winner, and you are filled up again, replenished, rejuvenated, ready for anything.

I was ready for the Gold Cup, that’s for sure. Lord Windermere’s owner Dr Ronan Lambe was in the parade ring beforehand, and Jim. Dr Lambe didn’t say much, just good luck, and Jim didn’t give me any instructions really. Just follow away, he said. See how you go.

That’s what I did, followed away. I didn’t have any option really, Lord Windermere wasn’t fast enough to be any closer to the leaders than he was. I was further behind the leaders than Jim wanted me to be, I found out later, but I was as close as I could have been, Lord Windermere was going as fast as I could make him go without bursting him.

We flew down to the first fence. Lord Windermere and I started off in the middle of them along the inside but, by the time we got to the first fence, we were nearly last. We flew onto the second fence too and, by the time we got there, we were last. Stone last. About three lengths behind the second last horse.

We swung around the bend, away from the stands, two complete circuits to go. Around the bend and into the back straight, and the race is starting to settle down a little bit, but we’re still flying. Lord Windermere is going just about as fast as he is able to go, but we’re still stone last.

Detached last

We’re going down the back straight and they’re getting further away from me. The two-length gap to the second last horse has grown to three or four, but there’s not a lot I can do about it. You wouldn’t have chosen to be a detached last, but I knew they were going fast up front, and I knew there was a long way to go.

I gave him a little squeeze after we had jumped the water jump, just to remind him he was in a race, but I didn’t want to ask him to go any faster than he wanted to go. I could have sat down and driven him, but that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. You would only have been doing that for the optics. If you ask a horse to go faster than he is able to go, if you try to push him out of his comfort zone too early in a race, he won’t get home. Best to keep him in his rhythm, best to conserve energy, hope that they have gone too fast, hope that they will come back to you. It’s how I rode for my entire career.

Lord Windermere was giving me enough of a feel that he was happy. Down the hill and into the home straight again, and we’re still detached last, but he’s okay. I’m thinking, this pace has to take its toll at some stage. Up past the stands and I have a look up at the big screen, the field is racing as one group, and then there’s us, Lord Windermere and me, detached last, like an extra limb that nobody is that bothered about.

Away from the stands for the final time, one more circuit to go, and I can feel him getting tired, but he’s still going okay, he’s still comfortable at this pace. Down the back straight, over the first there, we move up alongside Knockara Beau and Jan Faltejsek and we jump past them over the water jump. As we do, I can feel my fellow growing, feel him getting stronger. It’s amazing the effect something like that can have on a horse, just going up on the outside of another horse who is tiring and moving past him. He grows in confidence and suddenly he’s travelling again. I’m sure that confidence is a thing with horses as much as it is for humans.

We move up in among horses, in between A.P. McCoy on Triolo D’Alene and Tom Scudamore on The Giant Bolster on the run to the ditch and we jump it well. Out of the corner of my eye I see Last Instalment making a mistake and unseating Brian O’Connell. We start to lose a bit of ground on the run to the fifth last fence and I give him a squeeze. I’m not really riding him along, just giving him a little squeeze. It’s okay, still a long way to go, but we just don’t want to lose touch again.

Stay in touch

Up to the top of the hill and down over the fourth last and we’re just on the coat-tails of the others. Houblon Des Obeaux jumps away to his right and he looks beaten. Down the hill and I stay on the inside, stay in touch. Triolo D’Alene and The Giant Bolster are a few lengths ahead of us now, and the leaders are another few lengths ahead of them, but still, no need to panic. Just stay in touch, I’m thinking. Every time I try to get closer, I can’t, not without asking him to do more than he can do, so I sit and hope, cajole, creep. The leaders have gone fast, I’m thinking. They have to get tired at some stage.

We’re racing to the home turn now, and there must be six or seven or eight horses in front of us. You don’t count. You just know there are lots of them. We could have gone to the outside and tried to start to pass them, but that would be giving away ground, and still, there’s that hill to climb, the famous Cheltenham hill, before we get anywhere near the winning post.

We turn for home and it’s game on. I’m thinking I’ll swing off the home turn, sling-shot-like, gather some momentum and come a little wide in order to try to deliver a challenge, but our path to the outside is blocked, so I stay towards the inside. I think we can still make up ground on the inside before we have to come out to go around anybody. I see a stride at the second last and he comes up for me. The leaders are within sight now. For the first time since we left the starting gate behind us, two circuits and about six minutes earlier, I can see the leaders.

I come off the inside and get into the clear. Two horses in front of me, Noel Fehily on Silviniaco Conti, Barry Geraghty on Bobs Worth. David Casey is to my right on On His Own, Paul Carberry to my left on Lyreen Legend, and now I drive, now I kick, ask Lord Windermere for everything he has. It’s the Gold Cup, this isn’t going to be easy, but we can’t leave anything behind.

You pray you’re going to meet the last fence on a stride. You’re riding away and you’re just hoping the stride is there. I see it, I show it to Lord Windermere, ask him to make it and he does, jumps the final fence in his stride and lands running, momentum up. Silviniaco Conti goes on and goes a bit to his left, about two lengths in front of us. I just keep concentrating on keeping my horse going, keeping his momentum up, ensuring that he continues to go forward.

We get past Noel Fehily halfway up the run-in and he moves back to his right. Lord Windermere sees this and moves to his right too. I keep my reins in my left hand and my whip in my right hand, trying to keep him straight, but he’s moving to his right anyway. I can feel another horse coming at me on my right, I see On His Own’s head, I see David Casey’s beige arm. We drive on up the hill, I’m screaming now and driving and kicking and pushing. I drive to the line, I drive through the line. I don’t stop driving until I’m certain that the winning line is behind us.

Did we win?

No celebration

David Casey slaps me on the back, I slap David Casey on the back.

I think we’ve won, I think we’ve crossed the winning line first, but there’s no confirmation, so there’s no exhilaration, no celebration. People are congratulating me, but I’m not accepting the congratulations, because I’m not sure. I feel like a bit of a prick, not accepting the congratulations, but it’s a photo finish, and everyone is saying there will be a stewards’ enquiry. Everyone is saying that David and I came very close on the run up the hill.

They announce the result, first number eight, Lord Windermere. We’ve passed the winning post first all right, but still there is no elation. I’m shocked, it doesn’t feel like the Gold Cup, it doesn’t feel like I’m after winning the Gold Cup. It’s like winning it in stages, first the photo finish, now the stewards’ enquiry.

What should it feel like? I don’t know, I’ve never won the Gold Cup before. Maybe it’s because I haven’t fully won it yet, maybe it’s because the prospect of a stewards’ enquiry looms and, sure enough, very quickly the claxon sounds: stewards’ enquiry.

Throughout my career as a professional jockey, David Casey was always one of my good friends in the weigh room. We sat beside each other in weigh rooms all over Ireland and Britain for years. But we didn’t say much to each other after the 2014 Gold Cup. In the stewards’ room, we both argued our cases, I argued the case for Lord Windermere, why we should keep the race, that we didn’t improve our position, that the best horse won the race. David argued his case, that we interfered with him, took him off a straight line, and that that had cost him the race.

I genuinely did think that Lord Windermere was the best horse in the race, I didn’t think we should lose it. But you never know in stewards’ enquiries, you never know what way the stewards are going to be thinking.

It was a weird feeling, first past the post in the Gold Cup and still you can’t celebrate. Winner of the Gold Cup, for now, but knowing that it can be taken away from you.

They sent us out of the stewards’ room so that they could deliberate, discuss the evidence, consider the evidence that David and I had presented. So we’re waiting there, David and me, outside the stewards’ room, not saying much, awaiting the verdict. I look out the window, I can see Jim Culloty and, all of a sudden, he starts lepping and jumping around the place!

What?!

They had announced the result over the Tannoy. We couldn’t hear the Tannoy where we were, but they decided to announce the result before telling us. Result stands. First number eight, Lord Windermere.

Surreal

It was all a bit surreal. The way it happened. A photo-finish, not sure if you had won or not, then, yes, you’ve won it, but hold on, we have to see if you can keep it or not. And yes, you can keep it, but we’re going to tell the world before we tell you.

And it’s the Gold Cup, the Cheltenham Gold Cup. It’s different to the Grand National. The Grand National is the most famous horse race in the world, the race that breaks through the boundaries of racing and breaks into mainstream sport, into mainstream news. To win the Grand National is remarkable, it’s the first race that people want to talk to you about.

But the Grand National is a handicap. The better you are, the more weight you have to carry in the Grand National, the theory being that every horse should cross the winning line at the same time, that every horse has an equal chance of winning. It would be like in the Olympics, in a 1,500-metre race, the best runners giving everyone else a head start.

The Gold Cup is different, it’s the purists’ race, steeplechasing’s Blue Riband. The best staying chasers compete in the Gold Cup and the best one wins it. All competing on a level playing field, all off equal weights. When you go to the National Hunt sales looking at young horses, you are trying to buy a horse who will potentially win the Gold Cup. That’s the ultimate goal. And yet, only one horse can win it every year.

And only one rider. In 2014, I was that rider. Crazy.

Davy Russell, My Autobiography (written with Donn McClean) is published by Eriu and is now on sale (£20/€20). Davy will be signing copies in Eason Mallow on Saturday, November 9th at noon.

Web: bonnierbooks.co.uk