Three jockeys have suffered fatal or near-fatal injuries on Irish racecourses in the past 15 months - yet our safety standards are said to be top class. Brian O'Connor reports
The fall that put apprentice jockey Sean Cleary (22) on a life-support machine in Dublin's Beaumont Hospital was not dramatic. It wasn't one of those spectacular tumbles you see in the Grand National. There ware no gasps of "did you see that" from the stands. The race was on the flat. And yet it has left yet another rider fighting for his life.
It's less than three months since 25-year-old Kieran Kelly lost his own battle for survival after a fall at Kilbeggan racecourse. Just a year before that, Jimmy Mansell sustained the sort of appalling head injures that left him lucky to be alive. Mansell has recovered from that fall at Ballinrobe but will never ride again. A dangerous game has never been more dangerous, on every level.
The fall that claimed the life of Kelly happened when he was riding over fences. Mansell's came over hurdles. Falls over jumps are like pimples on a teenager; it's just a question of how many and how bad.
The misfortune for Athlone-born Cleary, who is apprenticed to Pat Flynn near Carrick-on-Suir, was that he couldn't have seen his accident coming. Falls are rare enough in flat racing to make them all the more shocking when they do happen.
Riding the two-year-old All Heart in the first race at Galway last Sunday, Cleary's chance of winning was real enough to have him focusing only on how to weave the filly through the field in order to challenge. When All Heart clipped the heels of the horse in front of her, she hit the ground in a split second, firing her young jockey into the ground.
"Talking to the jump guys, nine times out of 10 they can feel it themselves when they are going to come down or hit a fence, and they can anticipate it to an extent, try to prevent taking a very heavy fall," says Pat Smullen, twice champion jockey. "But on the flat, if you clip heels or one goes down in front of you, you just hit the ground. There is never an easy fall on the flat."
Smullen has won an English and an Irish classic this season. Only Mick Kinane has ridden more winners in this country. Compared to that, Cleary's total of 14 winners this year is small. However, there is no doubting the impact this latest injury has had on every jockey.
"I went into the changing room at Leopardstown the day after the accident and there was a gloom over the place," says the Turf Club medical officer, Dr Walter Halley. "Usually there's a slag or a 'how're ye, doc' but that day they were cowering in corners, looking up at me, afraid to come over."
Halley is closer than most to the emotions at the centre of these incidents. He knew Kieran Kelly personally, liaised with his family throughout their ordeal, tried to keep spirits up while waiting for the inevitable. Afterwards he was close to leaving the job.
"I was shattered after Kieran's death," he says. "My initial reaction was to walk away from racing but I was persuaded out of that. It's impossible not to get close to these guys. The jump fellahs especially are a breed apart."
The most high-profile case Halley had to deal with before the recent spate of injuries was when Shane Broderick was left paralysed after a fall at Fairyhouse in 1997. But Kelly was the first fatality on an Irish racecourse since 1986. Now, in just 15 months, we have had three serious or fatal head injuries.
The obvious question is why. What is different now compared with before? And the reality is that there is no answer.
"It is an absolute freak series of events," says Halley. "I wish I had a simple explanation but there isn't one. We take every precaution as regards plastic rails, body protectors and helmets, but racing is simply a dangerous sport."
Smullen believes the rate of head injuries should result in a review of the helmets used by riders, but he also acknowledges the inherent danger involved in riding half a tonne of racehorse at speed. One of the most articulate and thoughtful men in the jockeys' room, Smullen's attitude typifies that of his colleagues.
"Nobody would do it if they didn't love it," he says. "I got bitten by the bug when I was a kid and there is nothing I love to do more than ride horses. I'm sure it's been the same for Sean Cleary and for the likes of Michael Kinane. This is our preferred job. This is the direction we've taken in life and we can't quibble with that now.
"No one is under any illusions about the risks but there is no point in thinking about what might happen because if you did you wouldn't get out of bed in the morning."
This latest accident will probably result in another review of safety procedures by the Turf Club, but it is hard to see where dramatic changes can be made.
It's only five years since body protectors, which protect the spine and are worn under the jockeys' silks, were made compulsory in Australia. They were introduced in Ireland in the mid-1980s.
Plastic railings, which give way on collision, were only recently installed at Chantilly in Paris, where the prestigious French Derby is run. Concrete posts were taken out everywhere in Ireland 20 years ago.
"I have raced all around the world - in the US, Australia, Europe and the West Indies - and safety-wise we are up there with any of them," says Halley. "In fact, my colleague in Britain, Dr Michael Turner, is amazed there aren't more accidents in this country. There is more racing in Britain, I know, but the sad average over there is of two fatalities every three years. In Ireland, we have had one spinal injury in 30 years and I hope I never have to deal with any more. But how does that compare with the number of such injuries in, for instance, rugby in the last number of years?"
"I have never been refused anything I have ever asked for as regards health and safety," acknowledges Smullen, who has ridden in the top flight throughout the world. "The racing industry is like any other industry in that regard. And I think people should remember that 75 per cent of riding accidents take place out of competition, in the hunting field and the like. The safety standards in Ireland are top class."
However, provision can only be made for so much. The basic nature of horse racing is the urge to get past the red lollipop before anyone else. That demands risk, but most of all speed.
Hemingway knew that and put it in a nutshell in his classic racing short story, My Old Man. "This course rides itself," the Old Man tells his son. "It's the pace you're going at, that makes riding the jumps dangerous, Joe. We ain't going any pace here, and they ain't really bad jumps either. But it's the pace always - not the jumps - that makes the trouble."