Brian O'Connor talks to Oliver Brady, racing's Don Quixote figure, who has a burning desire to have a festival winner.
It's over three years now since Oliver Brady sat in his car outside Dublin's Mater Hospital and tried to come to terms with the information he'd just been given. The words were just about the worst anyone can hear. Cancer and six months to live. As cold and bare as can possibly be imagined. For 45 minutes he sat there, not fit to drive home. Then he remembered some other words his doctor had said. "Whatever you enjoy doing best, do that."
It would be stupidly simplistic to try to tag some Hollywood feel-good ending on to that line because bad health just isn't like that. Certainly, amid the torrent of emotions about family and the teasing out of some very fundamental and personal questions, Brady's immediate thoughts weren't about the small string of racehorses he trains at the back of his house. But it would also be dishonest not to record the subsequent importance of those same horses in the man's wonderful defiance of some lousy odds. Brady certainly wouldn't. Still here, still defying the doctor's predictions, and giving every sign of continuing to do so for a long time to come.
"Horses have kept me together," he says simply. "They're what I enjoy. They've always been in my system."
Once the initial impact of the diagnosis had been digested, there was one thing Brady was sure of. Sympathy and people pussy-footing around him were not on. Solemn expressions of concern, however well meaning, are not his style. As a result those who know him have been treated to a humbling display of quiet courage totally at variance with his more public persona.
To most fans Brady remains racing's Don Quixote figure, roaring and gesturing wildly in the winner's enclosure, bawling the virtues of his native Ballybay and determinedly assuring all those listening that the small man can still come out on top.
It's a face deliberately presented to the world and one the sniggering class have swallowed whole. Brady the madman is the cartoon. Brady the man is much more interesting.
At 66, he might be forgiven for slowing down a bit, but Brady remains managing director of Shabra Plastics, a recycling company with plants in Castleblaney and Carrickmacross that employ over 70 people. In June, he hopes to see a €1.5 million expansion unveiled. It's a busy enough schedule anyway, but combined with the training of 12 racehorses the thought alone is enough to make the more sedate among us break sweat.
A working life that has taken him from Britain to Korea and Singapore and back to his beloved Monaghan was never sedate. It's been full of the kind of professional success most of those laughing at him at the racecourse couldn't even dream of. However, at this time of year, on the verge of another Cheltenham, even Brady is able to reflect a little and maybe even dream. As for so many others this is the meeting that means most. It always has been, and it continues to exercise an almost mystical grip on the imagination of its devotees. "I remember as a kid, the school teacher Seán McShane sending me down to the betting shop to put some money on for him and guards waiting outside looking for underage lads going in," Brady grins. "There were other times I used to trot horses down the main street in Ballybay at the fair."
It's certainly far from running a multi-million euro business, but the allure of Cheltenham remains the same and the idea of training a winner there is a private light burning away inside of him. "It's the only thing I want to achieve," Brady says quietly. "Sickness doesn't matter. To train a winner at Cheltenham would be something else. I would be more happy with that than anything I've done in business. That's the dream now."
He will have two chances to achieve it. For the fourth year in a row Balapour will travel to the festival, but this time will tackle the Coral Cup (Wednesday) rather than the shorter Vincent O'Brien County Hurdle (Friday.) Baron De Feypo is the one due to run in the County this time.
"If the win comes in the last race on the Friday, the stewards will be okay," Brady jokes. "But if it's the earlier race, they're going to have to delay the next race!"
Certainly the rush from the stands to witness his celebrations will be worth the effort and the records show Brady is getting closer all the time. In 1997, Gazalani was fourth in the Triumph and in 2003 Balapour came within an agonising neck of overhauling Spirit Leader in the County.
Spirit Leader's trainer Jessica Harrington memorably commented that the loud cheers in the famous parade ring were not for her but for "the man from Monaghan" next door.
"If I can get them 10 or 12 deep around Navan, what could I do at Cheltenham?" the man himself asks mischievously.
"Balapour is coming back to himself, but I'm hoping he can get in. He might like it a little further too but with the just on the soft side of good, that will be ideal, and he will fly up that hill. He's done it before," Brady argues. "You can forget Baron De Feypo's last race. He'll take a bit of beating too."
If one of them actually wins it will be the sort of perfect fairytale result the great festival occasionally throws up. Certainly it will require bravery on the horses' part to face that famous hill and dig deep. But when it comes to courage all they have to do to find an example is look at the man closest to them and then realise how much a victory would mean.
