It is as appropriate as it is poignant that Lester Piggott’s death should come in the week of the 243rd staging of the Derby.
Amongst the many fireworks, in and out of the saddle, that marked the life of racing’s most iconic jockey of the modern era – born on Guy Fawkes Day 1935 – none surpassed his record nine victories in the premier Classic race.
From approximately the same date, ‘The Long Fellow’ (his height was accentuated by the skinniest of frames) has been as much part of Epsom’s heritage as the Queen, who will doubtless feel his passing as keenly as any racing enthusiast on course for the Platinum Jubilee celebrations.
More than practically anyone else she will have witnessed close up Piggott’s successes in the Derby and in the Oaks, notably when winning the fillies-only Classic in the Royal silks on Carrozza in 1957, a year that Her Majesty was flat racing’s leading owner.
Carrozza was a fine illustration of why and how an aura developed around her rider: less considered of the Queen’s two runners in the race, the filly was sent for home over a furlong out – “had Lester gone too soon” – but when the Irish challenger Silken Glider loomed up the horse had sufficient in reserve to prevail, albeit in a very close photo-finish.
A highly competitive nature was well illustrated by finishes like that – when it has to be said that the stewards’ view of whip use was rather different – and this rose to a new level of ruthlessness when he successfully secured a string of the best mounts by persuading owners and trainers that they should ‘jock off’ regular riders – changing room colleagues – in his favour.
A combination of success rate and the very fact that he had asked led to many substitutions, and it was not just for the most glittering prizes.
An uncle of mine was one of the owners of a talented handicapper trained by Ian Balding called Siliciana which was running on the undercard on Oaks day in 1972; a day or two before the race the unmistakeable tones were on the Balding phone to say that he thought the mare would win if he was on board.
In sticking with the intended jockey, the group had a few sleepless nights because although Siliciana won her race in good style my uncle said it was well known that Piggott’s judgment was hardly ever wrong and friends had said they were “bonkers” to turn down the chance of a certain winner.
Some of the greatest names in flat racing history knew all about that judgment during close associations: in particular breeder/owner Robert Sangster and trainers Sir Noel Murless, Sir Henry Cecil and Vincent O’Brien, O’Brien with whom he memorable teamed up to win the Derby with Sir Ivor, Nijinsky, Roberto and Sangster’s The Minstrel in the 1960s and 1970s.
In 2020, to mark the sixtieth anniversary of Nijinsky’s success in Ascot’s King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes, I was asked to interview the eleven-time champion jockey, who was always famous for his taciturn style.
I soon discovered that nothing had changed, and while perfectly accommodating – and intrigued by Zoom – there was no prospect of using ten words where one would do, but those few utterings accompanying images of the most recent colts’ Triple Crown winner were completely transfixing.
The much imitated speech impediment was just one aspect which made Piggott about so much more than his distinctive skills in the saddle: there was the deafness, the legendary supposed meanness, the dry wit and the conviction for tax fraud and subsequent prison term.
Of all the stories though, perhaps the crowning glory came late on with the unforgettable return, just a few days after leaving jail, when he was successful as a 54-year-old on O’Brien’s Royal Academy in the Breeders’ Cup Mile at Belmont.
Electrifying jockey and horseman, extraordinary character: Lester Piggott.