Donnacha O’Brien Seizing the Moment

[Wandering Eyes]

Never mind how tall he is. It is a head for heights that sets Donnacha O’Brien apart. Not yet 20, he peers down on seasoned rivals at the head of the Irish jockeys’ championship, two clear of champion Colin Keane—38-36 heading to Tipperary last night—at a strike-rate of 28%. He has won two of the four Classics so far staged over the water in Britain and tomorrow teams up with his brother Joseph in pitching Latrobe (Ire) (Camelot {GB}) against their father Aidan’s odds-on Saxon Warrior (Jpn) (Deep Impact {Jpn}) in the G1 Dubai Duty Free Irish Derby.

Joseph, of course, lit a path for his sibling with his own riding career: only 19 when winning the Derby on Latrobe’s sire in 2012, and twice champion jockey of Ireland. But his story sets a margin as well as an example. For his height, at nearly six foot, always guaranteed him only a fleeting window of opportunity and he duly switched to training—again proving an overnight success—at just 23.

With Donnacha, likewise, there is an imperative to make hay while the sun shines. If anything, with an extra inch or so against him, it would be surprising were he able to match even the brief span of Joseph’s career as a jockey. For this family’s preternatural horsemanship, after all, is secondary to its deeper values: nobody in this household will be risking health or happiness in pursuit of personal vanities.

Donnacha has plenty he could be vain about, as darkly handsome as he is dashing in the saddle. Predictably, however, he scrupulously observes the O’Brien code of humility and modesty as he takes a break between rides at Roscommon.

A country meeting, a relaxed setting, but he would be the same anywhere: polite and attentive, though laidback as well, a self-deprecating chuckle never far away. As, for instance, in announcing: “If there was no horseracing I’d be a completely useless human being. I know nothing else. Whether because I didn’t pay enough attention in school, or wasn’t smart enough to do anything else. But this is how our lives have been since day one, we’ve all loved it and never wanted anything else.”

“We’re a family that gets on very well together, thank God, we bounce things off each other all the time. If one of us experiences something, we can all learn from it, so it’s probably been a lot easier for me.”

That does not prevent Donnacha being his own man. Whether because the pressure is somehow less daunting, in the slipstream of one who had no such pathfinder, or because of some innate difference, Donnacha is viewed by rival jockeys as less intense than Joseph in the saddle. Not that he remotely lacks focus. Just that he is exceptionally natural, coolly trusting his instincts no matter how high the fire is stoked beneath the cauldron; no matter how high the stakes, riding in the silks of his father’s employers at Coolmore.

By the same token, he actually appears to be making a virtue of his “mayfly” status. Most of us, told to gather rosebuds while we may, might succumb to a panicked sense that we can’t afford to mess up because we may never get another chance. Donnacha, in contrast, seems only to be grateful for each extra day. Ryan Moore gets the pick of the Ballydoyle mounts, after all; Donnacha duly embraces every mount with full appreciation—and full freedom.

And if that is in his nature, then it certainly suits the horses. “A horse can feel everything you’re feeling,” he shrugs. “If you’re tense and nervous on a horse it’s going to pass through to them. I’m not going to ride for ever, I never thought I was going to. I’m just taking every race individually, not thinking about the future too much. At the same time, Coolmore is a business. Results are needed. When you’re put on these horses you’re expected to not mess up so there’s always a little bit of pressure. So it doesn’t matter how long you’re going to be riding for: if I’m not up to the job, I won’t be riding tomorrow.”

Joseph, to be fair, had the additional pressure of riding as stable jockey. And though he was arguably the most gifted horseman at Ballydoyle since the original Long Fellow, some noisy riders in the stand couldn’t see past his surname.

For Donnacha, then, it was again an advantage to see Joseph experience both the benefits and the burdens that came with his position. “Joseph’s obviously always only a phone call away and he’s experienced everything,” he says. “If ever I want a bit of advice in a certain situation, he’s been through it all and probably to even more of an extreme than I have.”

“With football, with most sports, you can go and kick a ball about and play under-12s. But in horseracing there’s very few people that have experienced it, and really know about it. A lot of people that criticise really don’t know what they’re talking about, so you just let it go in one ear and out the other. That’s all part of being in the position of riding good horses, but the benefits definitely outweigh the negatives.”

Even the most ignorant punters can have found few quibbles with Donnacha. But he certainly felt in need of improvement even when able to ride Joseph’s first Group 1 winner as a trainer, Intricately (Ire) (Fastnet Rock {Aus}) in the 2016 Moyglare Stud S., when barely 18.

“I think it’s only the last year or two that I’ve been able to get to a place where it’s acceptable to be riding good horses,” he says. “Nothing gets you prepared like race-riding: doing it day in, day out, getting the experience you need to know what to do in different situations. But I think a lot of it is I wasn’t strong enough. Because I’m tall I didn’t have enough muscle to hold myself tight, to hold my body together. I’m obviously heavier now but I think I’m a better rider because of it, I can keep myself tighter and better balanced.”

That refinement apart, you only had to see Donnacha nurse home Secret Thoughts (War Front) in a Naas juvenile maiden the other day to know that he was born to ride. Riding a filly still making up her mind about her vocation, and harried by Keane on the other favourite along the rail, he won by a head with hands-and-heels.

“If I wasn’t natural at riding horses I wouldn’t be natural at anything really,” Donnacha says. “Because before we could walk we’ve been put on horses. It’s where we all feel most comfortable, I suppose. I first rode a racehorse when I was nine. And good horses teach you how to ride good horses.”

“When you ride a good horse in a race you’re going to ride completely different from a bad one. They give you confidence, they teach you how to keep sitting when perhaps everyone else would be kicking. At the end of the day, good horses make good jockeys.”

“I think there’s a lot of riders, especially in Ireland, that with good rides every day there’s no doubt they’d be world-class jockeys,” he says. “When you’re riding very average horses you have to ride in a certain way, an aggressive way, to get results. It’s unfortunate, just lack of opportunities. Because when you see lads start riding winners and get a bit of confidence, the ball starts rolling and the next thing you know they’re riding different class from what they were three or four months ago.”

Be that as it may, nature and nurture together ensured that Donnacha was absolutely at ease with the responsibility when the mount on Saxon Warrior became vacant in the 2000 Guineas—Moore having instead elected to ride Mendelssohn (Scat Daddy) in the GI Kentucky Derby the same day.

“It was incredible the way the stars aligned,” Donnacha reflects. “For Mendelssohn to go to America was the plan the whole way but I didn’t know whether Ryan would go and ride him. But then in Dubai, when he won by whatever ridiculous margin it was, I remember looking up at the big screen—I was fifth on Seahenge (Scat Daddy)—thinking: ‘Okay…. He could possibly be in Kentucky here!'”

“I’d ridden Saxon Warrior in all his work but there was also Gustav Klimt (Ire) (Galileo {Ire}) and at the time Ryan might have ridden him anyway,” he says. “So Seamie [Heffernan] had Gustav, and I suppose because Saxon Warrior had put on so much weight through the winter, and we really thought he would improve, it took a little bit of the pressure off. Anyway Newmarket is such a big open place, there’s not too many hard-luck stories anyway; so long as you don’t do anything too drastic, the best horse usually wins.”

That was possibly not the case at Epsom, when Moore rode Saxon Warrior to finish only fourth. That’s the thinking at Ballydoyle, at any rate. And while Donnacha has always rated Latrobe highly, believing him capable of better at the Curragh than the odds imply, he retains maximum respect for his old ally.

“He’s better than his Epsom run,” he insists. “I think he’s a very, very good horse, as good a horse as I’ve sat on. Epsom’s a funny place: there’s the whole fanfare, the track, and probably a lot of little things came together. He got a little bit unbalanced coming down the hill, and just wound up an under-par performance from him. But he’s going to have a chance to return the form [if only with the runner-up, rather than the winner] and if he does what we think he can do, I think he will.”

If a colt from outside Ballydoyle were to beat Saxon Warrior, then his trainer would obviously consider Latrobe the one palatable option. Aidan was delighted for his sons when Intricately won, even though she beat a couple of exceptional Ballydoyle fillies; and likewise when Joseph denied him the Melbourne Cup in that incredible finish last November.

The closeness of the family sustains its members both on and off the track. “We got a good grounding [in racing] because from day one we’ve been out in the yard full time, we were put out into that world early,” Donnacha reflects. “But Dad would definitely say it’s more important that we were good people than successful people, if that makes sense. The jockey thing is going very well, but I might have to work on the other side a bit.”

Most people of his age, of course, have the freedom to make mistakes without great consequences; the freedom to grow up away from scrutiny. Donnacha likes a spot of golf, has retained friends from boyhood, but seems happy to trade the irresponsibility of youth for his professional opportunities. He even admits that he has already entertained the possibility of training himself someday—an appalling prospect, clearly, for those rivals already struggling to cope with two O’Briens.

“I’d love to go into something like that,” Donnacha says. “But it’s hard, people don’t appreciate how hard. I think when Joseph set up from scratch it made me see that. I think if you want to be successful in this game you have to be 100% committed. That’s the reality. It’s not a game where you can do things half-heartedly and expect results. We all do enjoy ourselves in our off time, but there’s a choice you have to make and obviously racing and business come first. You can enjoy yourself after that, when racing’s not in the way.”

The fact is that business and pleasure are hard to distinguish, when you can express an inborn talent with the freedom of this young man. And who knows what other chapters remain to be written before he is forced to close the first volume of his career?

“I’ll ride on until it becomes too much of a struggle and then I’ll stop,” Donnacha says. “But my weight’s fine at the minute, I’m not getting any warning signals yet, so we’ll keep going. Look, I only do 9st. I know I’m tall but there’s lads in the weighing room sweating every bit as much as I do, it’s just to do lighter weights. And they’re probably doing it for horses of a lot lower quality.”

“Every jockey struggles with weight because they keep going to a lighter weight until they are struggling,” he notes. “I’m lucky. I’m lucky to be riding these horses, when a lot of people are struggling with their weight, but don’t get that chance. It’s probably not great for your body, but that’s probably more the case if you’re doing it 40 years. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. When it does get to where I feel it’s unhealthy, I’ll call it quits and pull the plug.”

But will he, by that stage, have the laurels of a jockeys’ title? Donnacha is unsurprisingly sceptical about that prospect.

“I think I’m going to struggle, to be honest with you,” he says. “Certainly I’m not going to go out in the next and ride differently because I think I have a chance of being champion jockey. If it happens, it happens. I’m not going to do anything different. I’m very lucky to have two fantastic yards backing me, but they’re the only yards I really ride for and, at the end of the season, I might struggle when a lot of the maidens have won and so on. Colin’s an unbelievable rider and is going to be very hard to beat. It would be great to do it—but I don’t expect to.”

Albeit they are an awfully long way away, for a jockey, here is a young man keeping his feet resolutely on the ground.

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