Make no mistake, when the sport was on a tier a couple of levels above now which it perilously sits, the true legend of Lester Piggott was a household name on the level of Ali, Roger Moore, Jackie Stewart and Joan Colllins.
The aura emanating from him was not as hectic and coloured as some other household names, but he was wholly revered by racing fans, an idolisation that crossed over into non racing confines, similar to non tennis fans looking up to Bjorn Borg, or those who don't consider themselves golfing fans looking up to Jack Nicklaus as though he was a figure of worship.
A chapter ends as we are left with an emerging generation of ' racegoers' who call the horses by numbers, and talk of their 'accas' on the footy, never visit the paddock, drink themselves stupid and often snort white powder too.
Ironic really when the great man fought against the scales for his whole riding career without becoming hooked on drink - a regressive habit that took hold of many other great riders who by no means should be criticised or thought less of for finding solace and comfort from the bottle.
Eddery, Cauthen and Swinburn junior amongst those falling under the spell of various alcoholic potions. In fact it's amazing how many work colleagues of both sexes that you will discover to your surprise are hiding a drinking habit and hiding it well, such is how well they function.
Testament after testament indicate beyond doubt that Piggott was fervently self disciplined, and would restrict himself to a single glass, mainly of champagne, to accompany his cigars and classical music. A difference to those of us who without being alcoholics find comfort in a bottle of red or the odd long session on the beer, and who peruse offers from the wine club they belong to with the excitement they displayed as a child when watching the toy adverts on the telly as Christmas approached - come to think of it I never did get that Evel Knievel toy that was popular in its day.
Luckily, I've managed to gather a tiny collection of Piggott memorabilia which I cherish. From his library of form books, presumably sold off when he moved to Switzerland a decade back, I have his 1965 Raceform Annuals, which on opening, fittingly landed on the page recording Meadow Court's King George success.
Thousands of maturing racing fans may or may not be able to recall the first time they saw this icon in the flesh. I think I was first present at a meeting he was riding at some time during the summer of 1976, but what I'm more certain of was the first time I saw him ride a winner live was not until August 1977 on the Tuesday of the York Ebor meeting, quickening late on to seal the Harewood Handicap on the popular Derek Kent trained sprinter Epsom Imp.
Piggott had been turned over earlier in the day on the Mrs Getty owned Artaius in the Benson And Hedges Gold Cup. His stable companion, the charismatic dual Derby and King George winner The Minstrel, had just been retired in order to beat an impending USA horse import ban in the face of an outbreak of equine gonnorhea - by York week he would already have been in Kentucky in preparation for his first season at stud the following year.
Eclipse winner Artaius looked set up to take over the mantle of the top three year old but found the long priced previous year's Derby runner up Relkino too good for him. In another twist to the chapter, another Ballydoyle colt, a certain Alleged, took York by storm the following day when destroying his rivals in the Great Voltigeur. He would win the first of his two Arcs that autumn and topped the middle distance ratings in Europe.
But my most memorable day involving Piggott would be eight years on in 1985, when the master showed he had just as good a clock in his head as Cauthen when executing a wonderful ride from the front on Commanche Run ( in picture) to deny the Kentucky Kid aboard the mighty Oh So Sharp.
Other live moments from the top of my head would be another fine front running ride in the same race on Hawaiian Sound back in 1978. The Barry Hills trained colt had been narrowly beaten in both the Epsom and Irish Derbies under the miniature, stateside established racing icon Bill Shoemaker. Many were under the impression that the little man been jocked off but the truth was The Shoe was committed to riding at Saratoga that week, the nearest equivalent North America has to Royal Ascot.
Then two days later, in the William Hill Sprint Championship on Solinus, an animal who never really got the credit he deserved - he'd won the Kings Stand and July Cup in his previous two starts.
And finally pulling up Miller's Mate and holding him and probably saving the animal's life in the 1985 Chester Vase after he broke down, meaning the Mill Reef colt could be saved for stud where though far from successful, would still achieve a small portion of fame by siring the dam of Best Mate.
Then there was the time I experienced a most bizarre moment when a baby faced York native who claimed he was on friendly speaking terms with Piggott when he worked in Newmarket, and who would approach him at York fixtures for a chat, actually rang the legend up and spoke to him - one of the daughters initially answering the phone and handing over to her father,
I and one other person were in the phone box and we heard the legend's unmistakable nasal tones who advised that he thought Popsi's Joy would go well for him in the following day's Cesarewitch - he made the frame. During the brief conversation the York native, who could have been cast for a role in 'Kez', addressed Piggott as ' Less'.
Fast forward to the present and I did not hear a single mention of the great man's name in the workplace today. That is testament to how far horse racing in this country has fallen. Hardly anyone has any respect or appreciation for the game or any of its participants. It's a game truly on the skids.
image taken by author
This track from a strong throughout album without any real filler, which was released less than a fortnight on from Sir Ivor's Derby triumph.
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