RIP Montecristo

A personal tribute by Rachel Flynn.

Yesterday my favourite horse, Montecristo, died aged 22.  The bare statistics will tell you that he was a good racehorse, the winner of 19 races and over £100,000 with a highest official BHA rating of 93; sound and hardy, he won for 12 different jockeys, starting with Frankie Dettori and right downhill to me twice (my first two rides) and was most successfully ridden by Neil Pollard for whom he won three times.

As with most statistics, this doesn’t start to tell the story.  Monte was in the first group of horses Rae trained for Lord Matthews, the breeder of subsequent Group winner My Emma, a spindly Warning colt who had to go out in blinkers and would whip round so dramatically that he fell over in the process more than once.

Gelded at two, he became a legend in these parts when, after winning four lowly races as a three year old, he became very sick and was given to Rae by Ian Matthews on a promise that he would be put down if he couldn’t be cured.  A strict diet involving raspberry leaves brought him back from death’s door in 1996 and he repaid Rae’s faith in him by winning five consecutive races and a further eleven over his twelve year racing career.

All good work, but his real element was on the gallops, ideally soft ground over seven furlongs on the Flat gallop, where he led dual Group 1 winner My Emma, her daughter Listed winner Moments of Joy and even this year Kentucky Derby winner California Chrome.  You could never have a more enthusiastic and reliable partner and we used to say that if he got loose he would run up the gallops between the discs.  Even though he never could trot round the paddock without seeing a lion behind the bollards.

People are not always complimentary about trainers’ yards, but Monte absolutely thrived on the environment, enjoying trying to kick and bite people every day for fun.  It is tribute to the care and attention of first John Wilsoncroft and now Steve Lodge that he thoroughly enjoyed his life.  In his later years he gave so many people their first taste of riding a racehorse and was adaptable enough to do the 20 mile Cancer Research ride in 2010.  Saturday was the first morning that he hasn’t shouted for carrots when he heard my footsteps and, although he didn’t suffer and he died here with us, I shall miss him every day.  It’s the end of an era.  To borrow from Graham Goode’s commentary, you could count on Montecristo. RIP old friend.