March 2013
I had always loved horses. We lived in a country town and there were stables just down the road. When I went off for a walk with my brother Tom I would take carrots for the ponies in the field. He used to moan that that I didn't keep up as I was too busy talking to them.
My parents couldn't afford for me to have lessons at the riding school but as the years went by I asked the owner if I could help with the grooming.
Dad wanted me to get my homework done in the evening but I shot off as soon as ever possible to the stable.
Eventually seeing how the horses seemed to take to me, the owners daughter offered to instruct me in riding and horsemanship in general. I even started to enter minor events and did pretty well.
On leaving school I went to college as Dad wanted me to be an accountant but I knew it was a waste of time.
If I couldn't be a jockey I wasn't going to be anything.
Alter a year my brother Tom talked to my parents and persuaded them to let me try to join a trainers yard at Cheltenham for a year and see whether it brought me to my senses.
It was very hard work and the larger horses were more forbidding to work with. I cleaned out, did plenty of grooming, fetching clean straw, sweeping the yard - in fact all the jobs which would keep me around the mounts. I was quite small so light enough to be a jockey. Other boys and young men were quite undermining at having a youngster in their territory especially when they found I had this strange infinity with the horses. They laughed when I talked and whistled to the beasts while grooming but I felt closer to the animals more than to people.
I became noticed by a lady owner who had bought this black thoroughbred and who was hoping to enter him in the main race at the next meeting. He was tricky though, didn't much like racing and other horses. He would chase off at the start hell for leather and seem to tire of being in a race very quickly. I had seen this in a horse before and thought I would take an awful chance.
We lined up for the off and I let Beauty go, creating a false start. He went off like a shot and I let him do a few hundred yards before seeming to get him quiet and re entering the starters gate. Fortunately because he wasn't a favourite and I was a first timer as a jockey, a restart was allowed. Everyone lined up again and I had some very black looks from the other jockeys. Up went the flag.
We started off as enemies; he didn't want to race with the others and I wanted to win but as the other horses all went ahead, he suddenly seemed to realise that he didn't like being behind and with some whispers in his ears we suddenly became not rivals of each other but as one, rivals to the other runners and he put down his head and flew, being well behind he had his work cut out to win, but, seeming to pull together, we gradually passed two, then three, and by the skin of our teeth just reached the winning post equally with the favourite. The crowd, who by this time were with us all the way shouted their encouragement and I loved that horse. The flag went up for a check with the camera and sadly, we didn't actually make first, but our owner lady was so delighted she signed me up to ride her horses. It was the way to a wonderful career.
By the way did I mention that my name was Ricky Francis?