People ask me all the time: what makes a great jockey? They want a simple answer – balance, timing, anticipation, judge of pace – that all matters, but that’s only the start. Balance and timing are God-given; you can’t teach that. But the real difference between a good jockey and a great one is something most people never see.
Great jockeys aren’t afraid to lose.
That might sound strange. Every jockey wants to win. But most ride not to lose – they take the percentage play, avoid criticism, avoid questions from the stewards and avoid online backlash from people talking through their pockets. Great jockeys ride to win, even if it means putting themselves in the firing line.
A perfect example was Zac Purton’s ride on Colourful King on Sunday at Sha Tin. He was on a horse that normally goes forward or races midfield, but he went back to last. The only way he could get to the best part of the track, the outside, was to miss the start, cut across and be last – straight to the outside rail. He could have got blocked for a run but he trusted himself to get the run when he needed it. Most jockeys would never do that – if the run doesn’t come, they get hammered. But Zac wasn’t scared to lose. He gambled, backed his judgment and won the race with the ride, not the horse.
Ryan Moore is the best at it. Watch his 2018 Hong Kong Derby win on Ping Hai Star. He was on a 1400m horse trying to run 2000m, so he rode him stone cold at the back, completely relaxed, away from other horses. Ninety-nine jockeys out of a hundred would never do that. If the horse flashes home and finishes second, they get crucified by critics. The stewards will want answers. Social media melts down. But Ryan wasn’t scared to lose and it won him the race.
And that philosophy – riding to win – was always in the front of my mind. Every move I made was the right move at that stage of the race. That might mean taking on a $1.50 favourite. If I sit off him and let him have it his own way, I can’t beat him. So I’d take him on. If it didn’t work, so be it – I would explain it to the stewards. I was never scared to front them. I knew my ride gave the horse its best chance.
Today’s jockeys have an extra challenge: social media. Half of what gets written isn’t true and the other half is worthless opinion. People still talk about my 1992 Caulfield Cup ride on Veandercross like it was yesterday. They never walked the track. I did. I knew the best ground. That’s why he made up so much ground so quickly. But the critics don’t know that – they just see the result – beaten a narrow margin by Mannerism. Critics are like eunuchs: they see it being done, but they can’t do it themselves.
Of course, riding is only half the job. Great jockeys do the work behind the scenes. They chase rides. They communicate. They keep the mount when they’ve been unlucky. That is an art in itself.
Zac Purton is the best at it in Hong Kong. People get annoyed that he’s always on the right horses – but why not work ten times harder? He gets home after the races and messages trainers. No agents here. It’s uncomfortable for some, but it’s his job. You have to stay ahead of the game; you can’t let the game come to you.
And when things go wrong, communication matters. Not excuses – communication. Sometimes you put your hand up and say, “I got that wrong, but I know the horse now. I won’t do that again.” Trainers respect that. Owners respect that. That’s how you keep good rides.
So what makes a great jockey? God-given balance, yes. Timing, yes. But above all: the courage to ride to win. The courage to risk losing. The courage to back your judgment, even when everyone else will question it later.
Most jockeys are scared of the criticism. Great jockeys aren’t. ∎
