Hayley tells us why Tony McCoy reminds her of Rudolf Nureyev and why he should savour the magic of today.
Because of the various notions I have of myself, I do make a concerted effort to read a lot. I buy challenging books, you know the types; the ones with a quote from the Guardian on the cover, and pretend to myself that I’ll read them. I don’t. They sit and gather dust in my apartment but perhaps they make me look intelligent to my visitors, so not a complete waste after all…
In truth, the only literature I’ve read the past few years are biographies, predominantly sporting ones. Who cares about the Classics when you can read about Andre Agassi’s Wimbledon wig, the party days of Paul Carberry, or Alan Quinlan’s rise over depression?
I find them intriguing, inspirational even, but the odd time I’ll read one that feels like a slap in the face, giving me a strong sense of inadequacy – two in particular; the life story of ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev and the autobiography of jockey Tony McCoy.
What they have in common is that natural talent was only one of many ingredients in their success. Grit, a relentless resilience to pain and a repetitive battle of endurance slowly elevated them above the status of their piers. They weren’t Usain Bolts or Michael Phelps, whose physicality gave them a head start.
Quite to the contrary in fact – an uncomfortable truth for someone like me who sometimes soothes feelings of underachievement with excuses, as both Nureyev and McCoy had plenty, they just refused to be beaten by them.
Tony McCoy didn’t have the rite of passage that the equally but differently brilliant Ruby Walsh did and I think it’s nice that these living icons contrast so much. To me, the book portrayed perhaps an under confidence, that drove him to ride in more than 13,500 races, sometimes knowingly to himself with broken bones, gums still bleeding from the couple of teeth knocked out in the race before, to prove his ability.
Some of the estimated 1,000 falls he’s taken would have been followed by a body slam from the horse he’d departed, weighing about 530kg. That’s the equivalent four Mike Ross’s tackling you at over 30 miles per hour. Imagine?
Despite that, one of the most torturing factors in his professional life is sustaining a diet that would fail to satisfy the skinniest of supermodels. Such is his stature, he has to compete at a weight significantly below his natural one, nearly two stone in fact. His intake for a whole day – sugary tea, a couple of jelly babies, perhaps some fish and vegetables for dinner. He admits to splashing out the odd time by having a steak “a couple of times a year”.
While he has dedicated much of his life to horseracing and treated its followers to a library of memorable moments, I hope that at some point his insatiable hunger to stay on top will finally be satisfied.
Rudolf Nureyev, the greatest dancer the world had ever known, never really did and danced until his frailty had him performing so tragically terribly, audiences had to turn away.
Now it is brilliant to see that the titanium man’s fears of not being Champion have been overshadowed by what is the most important thing in his life – his wife and family.
Eventually, after breaking as nearly many records as he had bones, McCoy admitted that this one, riding his 4000th winner, will make him feel proud. Alluding to retirement in the next couple of years, hopefully McCoy can sit back and take as much delight in his accomplishments as we the public have for so long.
Meanwhile, I’ll be getting into action mode – at last. Starting tomorrow. Or Monday actually… 😉
For pictures of McCoy’s historic win today, just click here
