IT was just after 5.30pm on Saturday that I experienced the greatest thrill of my life in horse racing, and I have followed, covered and been involved in this glorious triviality, this rollercoaster, this mayhem of a sport for more than 40 years.

 

When One For Arthur cleared the final fence in the Grand National at Aintree, I started screaming like a mad thing and kept on shouting and jumping around the living room as jockey Derek Fox kept him going all the way to the line.

Fortunately there was only one person present – the dog was hiding behind the sofa – to see the tears of relief and joy pouring down my face. Sometimes, just sometimes, we are allowed to walk in glory, and Saturday evening was the zenith, so far, of my time being addicted to horse racing.

Yes, I bet the winner handsomely, and the third Saint Are each way at generous odds, and the money is down on the summer holiday. But it was about so much more than just the cash – it was about Scotland winning the World Cup, a Scottish-trained horse proving supreme in the greatest equine test, and above all about a very special woman and her team.

My mind went back immediately to a late autumn day at Musselburgh in 1995. I can recall it easily, because I wrote about it for the newspaper I worked for at the time and yes, I do keep all my important cuttings.

A young woman trainer, not quite 30 with a huge smile and that riot of curls she’s always kept, came into the parade ring at Musselburgh. She had just recently trained her first winner, Fiveleigh Builds aka ‘Fiver’, at Kelso, and all that anybody knew about her was that she came from the eventing world and that her father was Peter Russell of the Isle of Skye Whisky company, Ian MacLeod Distillers.

Lucinda Russell didn’t look like your normal racehorse trainer, but then I have learned that there is no such thing as a ‘normal’ trainer. She clearly knew her horses, though, giving them individual attention, and I promptly secured one of the first press interviews she ever gave.

I have followed her career ever since, all the ups and downs, and have no hesitation in saying that she is one of the finest and most inspirational people I know in any walk of life.

I remember how she was so determined to be a success, and of how she was adamant that she would manage her own yard, doing so at Arlary House in Milnathort. I also observed that like the greatest Scottish managers in sport, Jock Stein and Sir Alex Ferguson, she gave great attention to every detail.

The winners came. Not a flood at first, but steadily growing in number, and over the years ‘Fiver’ was added to by the likes of Mr Cavallo – a personal favourite – then in recent years Quito Du Tresor, Lie Forritt, Tap Night, Silver By Nature, Bold Sir Brian, Maraweh, and so many others.

She would be the first to admit that the arrival of Peter Scudamore in her life just over a decade ago was transformational. His huge experience of racing allied to her horsewoman’s skills have made them practically irresistible in Scottish racing terms, and now the whole world knows what a fabulous partnership they are.

Along with the records that have fallen and the wins that have made her so successful, Lucinda has also known the absolute depths of despair that racing can bring.

Just a few months after her first Cheltenham Festival winner with Brindisi Breeze in the Albert Bartlett Novices Hurdle of 2012, the horse was killed in a tragic accident when he escaped on to the nearby motorway. Worse, much worse, was to come. Campbell Gillies, the young jockey who gave Brindisi Breeze a vintage ride to win at Cheltenham, died on the day before his 22nd birthday in a freak accident while on holiday in Corfu. I wept then, too, at the loss of his vast potential.

There could no worse nadir than that. Yet Lucinda and Peter and all their wonderful staff at Arlary came back from the slough of despond and went back to winning again.

So then we had Saturday, and One For Arthur proved that Lucinda Russell is not just a very good trainer, she’s a great one. My only concern is that the quiet life at Milnathort will be somewhat more noisy in future.

I went to bed blissfully happy on Saturday, and then on Sunday morning I received the news I had been dreading. My friend Jim Glass had passed away after months battling illness. He was 84, and had led a remarkable life.

We had met through racing, gone to the tracks like Musselburgh, Perth, Ayr and Kelso – he was not a great one for the Flat – and shared many a laugh and libation. His great friend Peter Monteith had trained his best horses like Moment of Truth and Livio, and Jim had been devastated by Peter’s death in 2010. I was honoured to give a eulogy at Peter’s funeral and I can still see Jim’s struggle to hold back his emotions as I spoke.

So on one day I experienced the highest of highs and the next a new low as yet another friend passed on.

That is sport, that is life. We have to take each day as it comes, and know that there will be awful days and glory days. Endure the fomer and relish the latter, and hope there are more of glory.

Jim’s catchphrase was always ‘aren’t we lucky?’ To have life, and to experience days like Saturday when Lucinda, Peter, Derek and all the team, not to mention a fabulous horse, won the National for Scotland is proof that my old friend was right.

Aren’t we lucky?