IT’S a dank day at the Curragh in October, tail end of the flat season, Genuine Jim breaks smartly and quickly settles into his racing rhythm, just better than mid-division. The field splits as they near the five-furlong marker, and Genuine Jim is part of the split, on the cusp, edges over towards the near side as Purring Along goes clear on the far side.

You can easily follow Genuine Jim’s progress on the near side though. The light isn’t great, but his big, white blaze is a dead giveaway, white socks on his forelegs and, if you look closely enough, on his near hind. His rider motionless on his back. The far side have it as they leave the three-furlong pole behind them, but Genuine Jim’s rider doesn’t panic. They have gone fast, she thinks. They’ll come back.