IT is a grey March morning; grey and surprisingly cold but dry. Danoli stands in his loose box and is friendly if detached. It is as if he knows that the Cheltenham Festival is just over a week away and that somehow by entering the £170,000 Smurfit Champion Hurdle as a main contender, he has managed to defy the laws of reason and veterinary science. Less than a year ago, while winning the Martell Aintree Hurdle for the second consecutive year, he fractured his fetlockjoint. Rushed from the course that Saturday in a horse ambulance, Danoli was not in immediate danger but it seemed his career was over.
On arrival at the veterinary college, the damaged leg was put in plaster. By the following Monday he was being operated, on by Dr Chris Riggs. Even if he survived - there was a great risk of the leg shattering when he stood on it - it was unlikely that he would ever run again. Tom Foley, Danoli's trainer, was probably the only person who believed that a miracle was possible and he never lost that faith. It was justified.
January 21st was an important test. Danoli with T.P. Treacy aboard, made his comeback, finishing third in the AIG (Europe) Champion Hurdle at Leopardstown. A few weeks later, on February 18th, again ridden by T.P. Treacy, he won the Red Mills Hurdle at Gowran Park. The horse who would never run again was back.
The return of a sporting champion is always emotional, any champion who has been defeated or, as in Danoli's case, seriously injured, acquires a heroic vulnerability. In Ireland it seems the truly mythic sporting heroes are racehorses: Arkle, Monksfield, Dawn Run, Carvill's Hill and now Foley's charge, Danoli, the People's Hero. If a horse can possess a thoughtful gravitas, Danoli does. The eight year old bay gelding seems to appreciate that both his future and his place in history may well be about to be decided. It's as if he knows his misfortune has been replaced by good luck. Racegoers cried at Leopardstown when Danoli justified Foley's belief in him. More tears will be shed on Tuesday at Cheltenham if the miracle horse writes the next chapter in a modern fairytale.
Within five minutes of arriving at Tom Foley's Carlow stables, he has directed two of his stable boys to change the suspect front wheel of my car. The setting is almost deliberately unglamorous. While the Blackstairs Mountains form the backdrop which the house looks out on, the Carlow/ Kilkenny border scenery is rugged with isolated flashes of colour provided by the gorse which is still far from plentiful. The early spring lambs do, however, soften the scene. No, the great Danoli does not live in the most luxurious stables in Ireland.
Many of his rivals at Cheltenham or Aintree would be taken aback by his humble, almost spartan, surroundings. But it's comfortable, unintimidating and caring. Above all, Foley, his family and staff view horses as beautiful animals with individual personalities, not merely as investments featuring in exciting business gambles. Goretti Foley is a slight, gentle person who worked in an office in Carlow. When she married Tom in 1973, she was prepared for a life on the farm "but I wasn't expecting the horses. No, they came a good bit later.
As far as she is concerned, "you love all the horses. The good ones and the ones you know will never make it. If a horse doesn't do well, it's not his fault. They all try their best." Anyone would have to feel secure about leaving a horse at Foley's stables.
Aughabeg is five miles outside Bagenalstown but it proves difficult to find due to conflicting directions along the way. As his wife Goretti says: "Tom is brilliant at giving directions. All these English journalists found their way here with no trouble. But it's hard to find if someone else tries to tell you the way." Having driven in circles within about a mile of the stables for almost an hour, it was easy to decide that should Foley or Danoli decide to become reclusive, it will not be difficult.
The house is ordinary; a typical farm dwelling, the house Foley grew up in. It faces the block outhouses with corrugated iron roofs currently stabling 24 of his horses. The front door is kept open. Nothing is fancy. "It's a small trainer's yard, not like the big establishments." The most impressive feature is the bark chip gallop which is three furlongs long and has a steady rise.
Foley is not wearing the standard country set gear. There is no trilby, just an anorak and workman's boots, not riding ones. Four of his five dogs are running around playing a robust form of chasing, and the atmosphere is businesslike. Feed, dry mud and these random buildings provide much of the landscape of Foley's 62 acres.
BORN a farmer's son, in 1946, he farmed himself until he began to think there must be more to life than racing back to milk the cows. He is 49, looks younger, and never sat on a horse until he was 35. "Up until then I was too busy playing football, never had much time for horses. I was a good enough player; I held my own. Then I got a knock on my knee." A few years earlier he had bought a half bred filly and then a thoroughbred that got injured.
Respected and liked as a no nonsense, direct character, Foley has no pretence. Every question is answered with care. He has a habit of saying "that's a good question" and is extremely patient, although he is probably telling for the thousandth time the grim story of that distressing time lasts April when it seemed that Danoli would become yet another racing tragedy. With the race next week, of course, he is preoccupied.
Telling his own life story is far from his mind, although when he recalls his school days at the local national school, Foley says, "I was never that mad on school, I didn't much like it, I wasn't any good at it. I wanted to be free.
Foley's staff of six includes his two elder daughters, as with himself and his wife, they look younger than they are. He reckons his wife and daughters owe this to the fresh air "and the lack of stress". His approach to training horses is based on commonsense and an awareness of the value of flexibility, taking into account the weather, ground conditions as well as the horse's specific mood and needs at a given time. There is no rigid training programme.
While Danoli is the star, the other horses are equally important. Two fine geldings are led out of the stables and loaded into a horse box. Runbavard, an eight year old chestnut and Go Now, a five year old bay are to be brought over to Borris House for a workout on the sand gallop which is owned by Morgan Kavanagh and leased by Sean Treacy. It is four furlongs, about 800 metres or a half mile. A nice soft surface, sand gallops make it possible to work horses when the ground is too hard from frost. It is a 12 mile drive, over and back for Foley, along winding roads with a horse box in tow.
When he brings his horses up to the Curragh for a workout, it is a three and a half hour round trip. A great deal of time I spent loading and unloading animals, driving to various training venues - "we like to keep them varied" - and tending the horses at either end. The preparations take much longer than the training sessions. On the sand run, the two geldings run eight circuits of the gallop, four in either direction. Foley watches. Ten minutes later, their work is done. Acknowledging that horses get fitter far faster than humans, Foley speaks about Danoli, the horse which changed his life in the terms of his work if not his lifestyle, with a quiet affection.
"He's a good grubber for wanting," meaning he likes his food. "He loves racing, loves a fight. He's a very relaxed horse at home. But when he goes racing, he gets very" fired up in himself and very determined to get on with what he has to do." Danoli has won 12 of 17 starts, being placed second twice with three thirds. This race record includes three wins out of four runs in England; two victories at Aintree in the Martell Hurdle, and the 1994 Sun Alliance at Cheltenham. Last year he was placed a nice third in the Champion Hurdle there. To date his winnings amount to "in or around £214,000", perhaps small money by flat standards but very impressive for a national hunt horse.
"On paper", says Foley, "he's not bred to be the horse he is, but there you are. He's special." As an athlete, Danoli is a superb hurdler and his stamina has a slight edge over his speed. Aside from the horse's natural qualities, the factor which certainly proved vital to Foley in staging this miraculous comeback is Danoli's hurdling technique. "It's so good, it meant we didn't have to work him over the hurdles. This reduced the risk to his leg. We were able to concentrate on his fitness." Since about last September, some five months after the accident, Danoli began going swimming and has also being walked and ridden. He only began running again as recently as Christmas week.
But it has been a hard year for Tom Foley. In November, his mother died. His other horse, Moon Man, fell before the second last hurdle in a race at Navan and had to be destroyed. "He was eight or 10 lengths ahead and broke his leg before the hurdle but still jumped it before he pulled up." It was very painful for Foley coming at a time when Danoli's future was so doubtful. "I almost didn't want to look at another horse again. Moon Man was a great horse."
While the horses are being loaded up in the fine, traditional stable yard at Borris House, Foley speaks to a younger man - the son of the owner of Borris House - who walks into the yard, leading a mare in foal. The conversation is friendly but quick, conducted in racing shorthand. The two men discuss the current form of several horses. But racing is a risky business. The finest, horse in the world can fall and break a leg. It is this risk which prevents the trainers from"
becoming overly complacent. Having a good horse is fine, but it is not enough. Luck is all important. The sun is making feeble attempts to shine. It is still clear.
BRED in Tipperary by Willie Austin, a small trainer and close neighbour of Danoli's former jockey, Charlie Swan, Danoli was sold as an unbroken three year old at Goffs in 1991. Foley had gone there, entrusted with buying a horse for Dan O'Neill, a farmer and bone setter. "I went looking for a special kind of a horse. And I saw him. He had everything. You know when you've found what you want, whether it's an old car or whatever. I was on the lookout." It seemed on the day that Austin had been expecting to make around £10,000 for the horse; he had been bid £5,800. Foley bought him for £7,000.
Back at Foley's stables, the horses are unloaded again. The television is on, not for the rugby international but for the racing. A contractor is waiting for him. They discuss the new stable buildings Foley is interested in beginning work on. Breaking off for a moment, Foley shouts back towards the house: "Is there anybody there who'd put a cover on them two horses?" One of the daughters runs out and shouts: "They're covered". The two continue their discussion, measuring out distances, offering alternative plans. Meanwhile the wind whips in under the corrugated roofs of the existing sheds. There is a constant sound of metal bending.
It is time for Danoli to go swimming. He and The Subbie, another bay who is entered for the Sun Alliance at Cheltenham this year, are loaded into the horse box for the 10 mile round trip to the horse pool at Milltown. Though not yet officially opened, "Danoli has been making use of the facility for the past six months. It is owned by Foley's younger brother John.
DANOLI loves swimming and waits patiently while he is prepared and led down to the pool's edge. There is the familiar smell of chlorine. The pool itself is a rectangle. There is a viewing platform at it's centre. Danoli walks down into the water. Only his head is clear as he swims five circuits, a natural swimmer. It is an easy job for the two men guiding him. Swimming finished, he steps up from the pool, is dried down, and led to a stall in which a fan heater is switched on to dry him. He is enjoying himself. Not so The Subbie. Also standing 16.2 hands high, The Subbie is a bit heavier in the body than Danoli and not thrilled at the prospect of going swimming.
Coaxed and hauled towards the water, The Subbie is like a stubborn toddler. Foley stands behind him, pushing the horse's rump. It is a comical scene and a dramatic contrast to Danoli's performance. Wild eyed and snorting with indignation, he hates it. Foley takes pity on the giant toddler and tells the men to take him out after only three circuits.
Outside Danoli is being walked back and forth. Foley watches him and points out: "He's already got a bit of race jumpiness about him." In magnificent condition, Danoli has a deliberate air about him. There is always something strangely contradictory about these big strong animals. For all their power, they are quite fragile. More than most, Foley is aware of the risks; he has experienced it at first hand.
"It's like I said, luck is what you need. A good horse needs luck as well." This time next year, perhaps Danoli will be preparing for the Cheltenham Gold Cup. Who knows?
The Subbie emerges from the pool area and the horses are ready to be loaded up again for the drive back to the stables.
As for Cheltenham itself, why is it so special? "The problem with Cheltenham," says Foley, "is that once you go there and experience the atmosphere, especially the atmosphere of winning, you want to go back all the time. Even people who never had a horse, once they've experienced it - the atmosphere and the racing in it - it's something they want to go back to."
