Geraghty's part in a golden era of Meath jockeys

Given his age and recent injuries, it was probably inevitable that Barry Geraghty’s racing career was coming to an end. All good things have to come to an end sometime. And it’s when you see people like AP McCoy describing him as “brilliant in every department” and look at the list of horses and trainers he has been associated with, that you realise that he really has been a “titan” of the racecourse.

When a sports star is at the height of their success, still winning all before them, you don’t expect them to walk away from it. But isn’t that the best time? Unlike politicians, whose careers end in failure, as we were told by Enoch Powell, our champions can choose to go out on top.

There’s no need for me to go through Barry Geraghty’s achievements as a jockey here – perhaps his greatest achievement has been to know when to walk away from it all, and to be able to do that.

In the Racing Post on Monday, Richard Forristal described BJ Geraghty as “one of the greatest of a golden generation” whose “nonchalance and charisma illuminated an era of galacticos”.

A fitting tribute to the young lad from Pelletstown in Drumree whose family has been steeped in racing tradition and heritage. Golden Miller, the most successful ever Cheltenham Gold Cup winning-horse, with five in a row in the 1930s, was bred by his grandfather, Larry Geraghty at Pelletstown, where a plaque on a wall in the stables there commemorates that birth.

This writer’s earliest memories of the Geraghtys – Barry and his older brothers, Ross and Norman, is of their involvement with their mother Bea, in an equestrian team at St Michael’s Diocesan School in Trim. Somewhere, there is a photo of him in school uniform, plaster, and crutches after a fall at one of those jumping competitions, but it shows how battle hardened he was for the career ahead.

Richard Forristal talks about a golden generation of jockeys. Amazingly, it was one cluster of neighbouring parishes in the middle of county Meath that produced most of that golden age of jockeys. Leaving aside McCoy and Ruby Walsh.

During those same schooldays, I used to deliver eggs from our farm to a neighbour in Killeen, Molly Smith, once a week.

“I see Philcy’s young lad had a winner today,” she said one Wednesday.

Philcy’s young lad was Mr A Maguire, one Adrian Maguire, whose mother was an old Killeen neighbour. (She was already a Maguire before she married Joe Maguire of Bective, not needing to change her surname!)

Again, there is no need for me to go into the subsequent career of Mr A Maguire here, only to say that after the Dublin-Meath GAA battles of 1991, the next major sporting marathon that caught the attention of the nation was the battle for the 1993-’94 British NH jockey’s championship between Maguire and Richard Dunwoody. It was a contest the Kilmessan man was to lose, but not before the two jockeys travelled the length of Britain chasing winners, and chasing each other, delighting the public who watched the duel with fascination. It went down to the last day of the season, ending 197 to 194 winners.

Then, came along a lad of my own vintage. Paul Carberry. Where do you start? It was his father, Tommy, whose name still came to the lips of many around as a great jockey, but the son also rises. A fanatic of the Ward Union Hunt, it was hunt days on Tuesdays and Fridays that hardened Carberry, the Geraghtys, Robbie Power, Gordon Elliott, and many more before and after.

In the midst of all this, a curate in Dunsany, Fr Andy Doyle, with the late Rosemary Swan of Kilmessan, and others decided to start up a cross-country chase fundraiser for the parish, with the assistance of huntsman, Andy Lynch, and his late wife, May.

Andy, Godfather to my sister, Ann Marie, was also travelling head lad at Noel Meade’s Tu Va stables, and was on first name terms with the entire racing industry. It helped that Dunsany had great chasing country, and was at the epicentre of this golden cluster of jockeys, who were only too willing to get involved any time we asked in the event which ran for a remarkable 25 years.

Often, we didn’t need to ask - if it was a non-racing day, they turned out to partake. No matter which way you looked there was a lad or lass who had won a Grand National or Gold Cup – Ross Geraghty, Jason Maguire, Nina Carberry, Norman Williamson, Slippers Madden, Robbie Power – I’m surely forgetting somebody, but towards the latter era of the chase Colin Keane and Barry Geraghty were only too happy to join in photoshoots – Barry even bringing the Gold Cup he won on Bobs Worth in 2013 along to show the kids in Dunsany School.

There was one young lad watching all of this carry-on, growing up in the urban village of Dunshaughlin but from a family steeped in racing – Keith Donoghue, grand nephew of Andy Lynch, who many times landed in to my father for a cure of the sprain after a fall from on high. His turn was to come, and his association with Tiger Roll has made him our latest torch carrier in Prestbury Park and racetracks across Ireland and the UK. Like so many of these local jockeys, to race around Ballyhack and win an Irish Grand National on home turf at Fairyhouse is the one that is always special, and would be extra special for Keith as his grandfather Brendan, now 90, worked there and had a race named in his honour when he retired. Maybe there’s a chance yet in 2020?

To Barry Geraghty, whom we wish well, and all of those jockeys (and horses) who have brightened up our days with their colourful silks – we say thank you. It is indeed a privilege to live so deep in the midst of this golden racing country.