YORKHILL’s win at Cheltenham earned rave reviews, while his display in defeat at Fairyhouse had pundits and punters alike shaking their heads in dismay, but it should have been the other way around in a game which is enriched by its characters, and in which we tend to forget that the horse is the only enduring draw.

Willie Mullins’ chaser has character which matches his brilliance, as he showed when pulling himself up in front in winning a couple of Grade 1 novice hurdles last season, and he has a streak of waywardness which arguably deprived him of victory at last year’s Punchestown Festival, and definitively last Sunday, when his tendency to dive left almost carried him off the course.

It’s easy to conclude that he simply needs to go left-handed and remains unbeaten that way around, but the truth is that he’s a little bit of a nutcase, and that’s a good thing. We shouldn’t defend him against accusations of being quirky, but rather celebrate it.

Being a Grade 1 nutter is so much better than going through life as a useful, well-behaved and ultimately forgettable performer, and to illustrate the point, you should conduct a poll among your racing friends to reveal their all-time favourite racehorses.

Ask them also to throw in a couple of adjectives to describe the object of their affections. Words you’re unlikely to hear are “reliable”,”consistent” or even “clinical”. We love our heroes, in racing, life and the movies, to have character; as youngsters, we look for plainly heroic qualities, but with age we get a taste for the flawed hero, a reflection of our own failings tinged with a desire for redemption, or we celebrate the anti-hero, who eschews the false beliefs we have rejected.

In racing the current anti-hero is Labaik, following in the footsteps of Mad Moose, Sariska, Deano’s Beeno, Pukka Major, Vodkatini and Derring Rose – all of whom could be very good, and in some cases unbeatable, but who all had reservations about starting.

They were the bad boys (and girl) we profess to admire, but while Labaik may prove to be a reformed character, the appeal of the other refuseniks begins to pale with repetition, until they are ushered off the stage, and that’s the main problem with nihilism - nothing ever comes of it.

REBELLION

So if we accept that our crush on the Labaiks of this world (future good conduct notwithstanding) is merely the equivalent of a half-hearted act of teenage rebellion on our own part, we come round to the horses who we are truly, madly and deeply in love with, and that brings in the true characters, those who retain their ability and fundamental enthusiasm for the game but have to complete Herculean tasks to gain their place in our affections, either against the handicapper - Arkle, Red Rum, Desert Orchid, or injury - Aldaniti, Danoli, Delius.

Combine those two achievements, and you have the recipe for an equine cult figure, but sometimes the labours our champions must perform are of their own making, their Nemean Lion really just a tendency to belt the odd fence, or a reluctance to be in front for more than a fleeting moment, or a sudden loss of interest at a crucial time.

Step forward then such flawed heroes as Bird’s Nest, whose habit of ducking left in the final stages of his races might have cost him Champion Hurdle in a golden age, but who won a hatful of big races and remains almost as popular as the gallant Monksfield or Sea Pigeon among connoisseurs of the era.

Sea Pigeon himself needed producing on the line and might have won everything had that kink been spotted earlier in his distinguished career. Morley Street, Harchibald and Deep Sensation were others who could be brilliant, but couldn’t be bullied, and had us on the edge of our seats more often than not.

Others needed more cunning tricks to produce the goods, with Little Bay taking the mickey out of his riders until Jonjo O’Neill discovered that taking the mickey out of the horse was worth a try, winning a big prize at Aintree by kicking his feet out of the irons and in his own words “flapping around like an inexperienced, incompetent rider”, which caused his mount to take control, sprinting away for an unlikely, but memorable victory.

It would be very harsh to describe Rupert Nuttall as incompetent, but the amateur’s long-legged style was more suited to the show jumping arena than the racecourse. Nuttall, however, was the only rider who could get Harwell Lad to co-operate on the track, and the gelding tended to jump his rivals silly before deciding he’d done enough and come to a halt mid-race.

That didn’t always stop him from winning, however, and the pair embarrassed the professionals when running away with the 1997 Whitbread.

Recalling these acts of twisted brilliance gives me a palpable thrill, and reminds me why racing is such an engaging spectacle, so for all the talk about what Mullins and Henderson can do to curb the waywardness of Yorkhill and Might Bite, I say don’t bother lads – just let those glorious nutters loose!