AFTER a recent loss of one of ours, Sixshooter, I just feel I can’t let him be a statistic, a number or percentage or whatever, because to us he wasn’t, he was family.

If you walk into the kitchen at home, the first picture of many (horses) is the ‘aul lad’ (Christopher McKeever) with a scoop in his hand, smile on his face, feeding a young foal. For no reason at all, it just happens to be ‘Ginger’ (Sixshooter).

Six years ago we’d no idea how he’d turn out. Like his sisters, She’s A Star and Iamastartoo, he was by a stallion more known then as ‘Well who’, not Well Chosen! But none of that mattered, we dreamed the dream of breeding a winner but never in our biggest dreams did we dream he’d do what he did. No, he wasn’t a superstar, but could he have been?

Move on

I think people are led to believe that once you off-load a horse at the sales or whatever, may it be a foal, yearling, etc., that’s it, move onto the next batch and just keep an eye out for it running.

Maybe that is the case and we’re just eejits, but for five years after he was sold as a foal, there were spins down to Noel Meade’s on a regular basis, even when he was just a yearling. Out in one of Noel’s fields to see them (also has ‘Big Joe’, Sixshooter’s homebred buddy), just to say hello and give them a pat.

Noel or somebody from the yard would be passing our field, see the jeep parked up and fill you in on the ‘lads’.

Noel’s yard can vaguely be seen from the kitchen, him and ‘aul’ grew up together.

You can just barely make out the faint shadowy figures of horses cantering up the gallop and ‘aul’ would say, “There’s Sixshooter, Sean’s on him, oh Jaysus, Noel’s on ‘Joe’, he’s either short staffed or Noel is coming out of retirement to ride him in a bumper!” The likes of that nonsense was an everyday occurrence.

Christopher and his wife Ann McKeever enjoy a success \ Healy Racing

Then you get talking to somebody, the ‘lads’ are back from a break, they’re going well, did a gallop and went well. Then you get the word, “they’re nearly ready, should be a fortnight or so”. That’s when the sleepless nights come, the checking of entries every day, 20 times a day, the excitement, and then the call, a matter of who gets to it first, no small talk, not even hello, just a “he’s entered”.

That call brings it to the next level, it could be a bumper, a maiden hurdle, a Grade 2, doesn’t matter. The level of excitement and stress is always the same!

But realistically we never really cared how they ran, as long as they come home safe.

On Sunday, the first time I ever did it, I loaded up herself and the two kids to hit Punchestown. The kids being a two-year-old who thinks she’s by Dark Angel in a breeze-up, and the other lad, a nearly four-year-old, thinking he’s in a juvenile hurdle, it’s usually just not worth the hassle!

But today ‘Ginger’ was touching odds-on in only his second start, after a very impressive round of jumping in Galway three weeks beforehand, in a Grade 2 no less. Odds-on in a Grade 2, go waan ‘Ginger’!

I don’t even want to go into too much detail about it. I’d the ‘gossun’ lifted up pointing out Sixshooter, then the horse fell.

I’d seen something I’ve seen 100 times before but this time I’ll never forget. I lowered the child back down on the stand. The screens came up.

Register

I rounded up the family, told the ‘auld lad’ “it’s not good, talk to you later” and left the races. It wouldn’t register with me, even when my father phoned me about 15 minutes later and said the horse was dead.

I remember getting back home to Celbridge, checking the results, still in shock and disbelief, but all the results said was ‘heavy fall’. Surely it would say fatally injured, maybe the ‘aul lad’ got it wrong?

Maybe he’s alright, what’s he on about, dead? I think I checked it another three times between that and putting the kids to bed at eight, then checked again. “Fatally injured.”

I’m fairly battle-hardened, 40 years of age, I’ve seen a lot but I went out to the shed and cried for nearly an hour.

Call me soft or whatever you want but that’s what those animals mean to us, their family, their sons and daughters, every single one of them and play an absolute massive part of our lives.

Not a single day goes by that the likes of Sixshooter or ‘Joe’ aren’t mentioned. They are not an asset or way of making money (hasn’t happened yet, trust me).

I guess the point I’m trying to get across is, well with us anyway as small breeders, they are not shoved off to a new home and forgotten about and onto next batch.

The bond between man and beast is so much stronger than anybody realises and with our homebreds it only get stronger and stronger even though they are no longer in our care. They are a huge part of our family.

You’ll never be forgotten, Ginger, buddy, you’ve made us so proud.