Sunday, December 13, 2009 RPSUNDAYimages.racingpost.com/pdfs/brough_scott_2009-12-13.pdf · 12/13/2009  · bronco competition. Here there is only one man and his son. The horse is

Brough Scott admires the methods of renowned horse whisperer Gary Witheford, theman who broke in Sea The Stars

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Racing Post Sunday, December 13, 2009 15

I F ONLY they could talk. It’s adespairing whinge common tohorsemen and punters alike. Butthey do talk to Gary Witheford.He once famously did his thing

with a zebra, he put four Group 1winners into the stalls last season,and two years ago he was the firstman to have a full conversation withSea The Stars.

It was cold last week at Westcourt,the ungilded stud and stablesWitheford runs a few miles south ofMarlborough, and when the showerscame scudding across the Pewsey Valeit felt as if they had come direct froman Arctic version of the BristolChannel.

But what happens between him andthree very different horses in thecircular sand ring warms the heart.They turn out to be the Good, the Badand the Ugly but each within 25minutes has learned the language. Inmore than 60 years with horses I havenever seen anything to match it.

“Look at her lip, look at her lip,”

shouts Witheford as the first pupil, anunbroken yearling filly by Clodovil,stops, a touch baffled, in a corner ofthe ring at the end of the long whitelead rein. “She’s talking to me. She’ssaying she is ready to do what I wantnext.”

Witheford, 49, once a sickly,self-doubting stable lad, is now a big,

powerful presence, almost a bit tooloud and dominant for the acceptednotion of a horse whisperer. But whilethere is nothing cruel about themethod he has developed from thecombination of a troubled youth, anescape with equines and his timespent with both Monty Roberts inAmerica and Stephen Forsman inScandinavia, it is based on the needfor the human to be the leader.

“I call it ‘pressure and release’,”explains Witheford, who is certainthat his gifts have emerged from therefuge he found with horses after thedouble torture of dyslexia and abuseovershadowed his childhood.

“We are in an enclosed space so I

shoo a horse away to run round theside of it but then ease off. When he[or she in this case] is ready they willstop and lick and chew with thatlower lip, which says they are ready todo the next thing.

“Horses are animals of flight orfight. She’s definitely flight. You cansee that inside ear listening to me.Some of them are not as easy as this,but in principle they are first-timelearners. I want to help them. Theywant to please me.”

His strange mixture of strength andsensitivity tunes in naturally to theelegant filly in front of us. Having

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‘Being brought up in Yorkshire, Geoff Boycott was a massive hero,so captain of the England cricket team would have been good’Questionnaire, page 20

PICTURES: EDWARD WHITAKER/RACINGPOSTPIX.COM

IT’S GOOD TO TALK

jjContinues page 16

End of the fight: an unruly pupil bends to the will of Gary Witheford (seated on horse) and his son Craig at their Westcourt Stables in Wiltshire

16 Sunday, December 13, 2009 racingpost.com

trotted round happily to the left, thefilly is brought back into the centreand then ‘shooed’ away to circle thering to the right. For a moment itlooks almost boorishly callous butwithin a couple of circuits the ‘flight’slows, the filly looks across to her‘leader’, the lower lip chatters inacceptance, and Witheford brings herfirmly but gently back to the centreagain.

We haven’t been going five minutesbut Witheford’s son Craig now walksin carrying the saddle and bridle.Twenty-six months ago he did this inIreland to a good-looking Cape Crosscolt, who was the first yearling thathe and his father had handled forJohn Oxx. Even at the time theWithefords remarked on Sea TheStars’s incredible self-possession.

The whole process, from start up tobeing ridden away on his own, whichunder the standard system takes morethan a month, was completed in wellunder 20 minutes. As the Clodovilfilly stands apprehensive while thesaddle and girths are gently attachedand tightened, you wonder if this willbe quite so quick.

As she kicks out at the beginning ofher first circuit, Gary calls outcheerfully: “Look at how she hasstiffened her top lip. She’s angry withme. Look at her ear. She doesn’t wantto listen.”

But she soon does. No drama, butthe inside ear begins to cockattentively and the trot round theoutside of the ring becomes smooth.She is brought back to the centre andthe bridle, with its solid, one-pieceMyler bit is put on. The first lead reinis threaded from the rings of the bitthrough the stirrup iron out to Garybehind and a second rein is similarlyattached. This is the process of long-reining, in which the standardpractice is to drive yearlings ahead ofyou for days if not weeks, up lanes,across fields and through paddocks.Here we are only spending a fewminutes. It should not be possible butit is.

For a circuit or two the filly’s angerresurfaces. “Look at her stamp herfoot,” says Gary, before catching a tell-tale upward jerk of the head asshe is made to turn to the right. “Seethat,” he shouts, “it only happenswhen she turns to the right. Bet youanything she’s got a wolf tooth [a

pre-molar that loosens easily] – I’ll get the dentist to whip it out thisafternoon.” Not an insuperableproblem but after ten and a halfminutes we have reached a crucialstage. The filly has got to walkbackwards.

Gary has her directly in front of himand pulls insistently on both reins inunison. “She must take two full stepsback,” he says. She does and standsand puckers that lower lip with asnear to an ‘aren’t I clever, what do youwant next?’ statement as a horse cangive.

W HAT she will get isCraig on her back. It’sone of the greatmoments of any horse’slife and one, above all

else, that needs assurance in theexecution. Done badly, there is toomuch tension and too manyparticipants and the whole thingdeteriorates into a fight fordominance, not to mention a buckingbronco competition. Here there is onlyone man and his son. The horse isheld by one hand, not pinned bymany. The boy is eased up ever sogently to lie on his stomach across thesaddle. So far so good. Okaysunshine, now try putting your legacross and your bum on the saddle.

Craig does just that as Gary turnsthe filly’s head one way and then theother. Initially, Craig places his feetever so gently in the irons and keepshis seat actually above the saddle. Butwhile the filly’s ears are flickingnervously, her body is calm, there areno sweat marks of worry. We havebeen going just 14 and a half minuteswhen Craig’s posterior finally pressesthe saddle and, unlike one never-to-be-forgotten personal memory, is notimmediately bucked straight betweenhis pupil’s ears.

Almost immediately she is beingtrotted round, a bit stutteringly at firstbut freely enough within a couplemore minutes to have Gary take offthe lead rein and leave Craig on hisown.

Within a few more circuits the pairare cantering round confidently bothways. We have not yet reached the20-minute mark and the opening partof the basic, normally weeks-longstart-up process is complete.

But before the next pupil comes inthere is one more trick, which at firstglimpse looks like a publicity stunt.

The filly is ridden back to Gary inthe centre and Craig calmly hoistshimself up until he is standing righton top of the saddle, and then jumpsoff to the side for all the world like aFrankie Dettori dismount without thearms-flung-wide, Sheikh Mohammed-embracing histrionics.

“I could not believe it when I firstsaw it with Sea The Stars,” says JohnOxx. “But Gary explains that it gives ahorse trust in having a man like astalls handler up behind them, andnow my lads do it as part of theprocess when Gary is there. And thehorses he breaks do seem quieter togo on with.”

One down, or rather up, two to goand if the first filly was the good, thesecond one is the ugly. That might bea bit harsh on the little chestnut

THE BIG INTERVIEWRPSUNDAY

whose trainer had dropped her off atWestcourt the night before, but hercoat is shaggy and her attitudesomething similar to a grumpyteenager’s curled-lip scowl.

I WILL bet she was a homebredwho has been petted andallowed to get away withthings,” says Gary, as the fillysingularly fails to show any

enthusiasm at obeying any of hiscommands. “She definitely won’t doflight so I’m waiting to see where thefight is going to come from.” When itdoes, it is bizarre.

We are ten minutes into what isbecoming an increasingly unsuccessfulprocess and have reached the long-reining part when the pupil has tomake the two backward steps. The

filly locks her front legs and dips herhead in furious, dumb refusal. “Lookat that stiff upper lip,” shouts Gary,“you know I think she’s going to liedown on us.”

After another two silent, strainingbut motionless minutes the fillygradually lowers her head and neck tothe ground in front of her, beforefinally toppling over on to her leftside and lying for dead like a toddlerin a tantrum. “Told you so,” says Gary.“Now we’ll make her realise the factsof life.”

For an awful moment you thinkthat he and Craig are set to reap someprimitive revenge for their pupil’smisdemeanour. But what they do isharmless to anything but herrebellious psyche. They sit and walkall over her. They humiliate the girl.

‘I always felt Ihad something.I understandwhat they aresaying to me’

Craig Witheford stands in the saddle as the unique breaking-in process comes to a successful conclusion

jjFrom page 15

Racing Post Sunday, December 13, 2009 17

An 11-year-old Andalusian horse gets the Witheford treatment in the circular sand ring

Sea The Stars: Witheford’smost famous pupil

Don’t try it on your toddler, but outhere you can instantly see the point.

It works a treat. The filly is broughtto her feet, stands meekly while Craiggoes through the mounting processand then trots obediently round thering as if asking for everyone to forgetwhat happened. As with all otherhorses, it will be important that herfuture riders continue the strict ‘nononsense’ regime, but the knot in herbrain has been unravelled.

S O THAT was the ugly, bringon the bad. During the courseof the morning a delinquenttwo-year-old has beendelivered whose reputation

would have merited an Asbo and a legtag at the very least.

As a six-figure yearling he had beenthe apple of his stable’s eye but whenhe finally made it to the track hebehaved so disgracefully in thepaddock and ran so deplorably in therace that gelding was immediate.Despite that, he became so aggressivethat he needed tranquillizing even togo on the horse-walker. It had taken15 minutes to get him to enter thehorsebox that morning.

In the old days it would have beena classic case of boot camp, big whip‘sorting out’. Gary is no shrinkingviolet and there is a certainchallenging relish when he says “Ithink we’ve got a right one here”.But his systems are different. Thecontest is a mismatch. Using hisown rope halter he has the horsewalking into the horsebox withinfive minutes. Within another five,the battle in the schooling penhas become completely one-sided.

To be exact, the hoodlum is lying onhis right side, his legs trussed toprevent kicking, and is being pulledover on to the other flank by Garyand Craig, who then give him the‘walk on’ humiliation treatment.

To be fair, despite the horse’sreputation for coming at you with hisfront legs, Gary had given him acouple of circuits’ chance. “But watchhis head,” shouts the whisperer. “He

won’t look at us, he’s telling us tostuff ourselves. I think we may haveto pull him down.” After half a dozenbolshie attempts at circling the ringthe villain is brought quietly into thecentre. His near-fore is tied back upnext to the knee. Gary and Craig twisthis head until he finally drops to theground, where his other front leg ishobbled to the hind one so anystruggles are against himself.

As with children, there are a fewmoments when a storm of ragesuffuses them. But, unlike the humancondition, when acceptance comes itis complete, trusting and withoutresentment. Those who a few minutesearlier had been in fear of an equinethug can only look on in admiringsympathy as he stands politely forCraig to place the saddle and thenride him round the ring. Once ortwice the knots form back in the mindbut each time the absolute certaintythat obedience is the most fruitfuloption takes things forward. When welast look he is being hacked happilyover the horizon.

It had been a squally morning inWiltshire but also rather more thanthat. It had been a revelation of whatcan be done with the equine spiritand, in Witheford’s case, with the

human personality.Gary and his

second wifeSuzanneare happy

now but there have clearly beenagonies along the way. By his ownadmission the future whisperer was adisruptive child, which, consideringan overseas childhood, severe dyslexiaand sexual abuse (for which a familymember was eventually jailed), wasnot surprising. An enlightenedschoolmaster saw horses as the keyand at 14 Witheford was the youngestboy on an apprentices’ course. “I felthorses could not hurt me,” he says. “Iwent to Stan Mellor’s but I neverwanted to be a jockey. I just wantedto get the difficult horses to getthemselves right.”

I N 17 years with Mellor,Witheford never had a horse helooked after fail to win. Whenfamily needs meant swapping astable lad’s wage for ten times as

much with Marley Tiles, the lure ofthe horses meant him working nightsand riding out mornings with EricWheeler, something which, againunsurprisingly, did not fit well withfamily life.

After a double-glazing venturefailed Witheford got backing fromBlack Sabbath drummer Cozy Powellto develop his own system, only forPowell to be killed in a motoraccident and then for another laterbacker also to fall out.

“It’s been a long and difficult time,”says Witheford as he tastes a glass ofwhite wine in the gleaming kitchen,“but I always felt I had something. Ican understand what they are sayingto me. Like that filly saying she wasgoing to lie down. This has been thebest year of my life, working withGhanaati, Fleeting Spirit, SpanishMoon and of course Sea The Stars. It

was two years ago last spring thatJohn Oxx asked me over to help avery well-bred filly, Timarwa, whohad refused to go into the stalls. Iwent with her to the Curragh and shewon easily. John liked what I did, Icame back to do all his yearlings thatautumn and the rest is history.”

Bob Hoskins, in the famous TVadvert, was probably not thinking ofWestcourt Stables near Devizes. Buthe got the message right. It’s good totalk.

Two daysthat wereto be themaking of Kinane

A MONG all the memoriesrelived and tributes paidon the announcement ofMick Kinane’s retirementthis week, no-one has yet

mentioned the headline in The Sunon the Monday after his watershedweekend in 1989.

On the Saturday, Kinane won theinaugural Cartier Million at PhoenixPark on The Caretaker. On theSunday, Kinane rode Carroll House towin the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe,thus annexing the two most richlyendowed races in Europe within 24hours.

It was a remarkable feat, and thesub-editors at The Sun rose to theoccasion. Short of space they mayhave been, but they are never short ofimagination. Readers turned to theracing page on Monday morning to begreeted by the headline ’KIN ’ELL.

That moment of scandaloustypographical genius has remainedwith me throughout Kinane’sglittering career, which had itsmoments before that autumn but was transformed by that cross-Channel double. Before thosetwo victories, Kinane was just anotherIrish jockey. After them he was aglobal player.

At that time, Irish jockeys based inIreland stayed in Ireland, which hadyet to hear the first purr of whatwould become the Celtic Tiger. Theymay have popped over to Britainoccasionally, or to France at a push,but there were no go-to Irish riderswhen a big trainer had a big horse ina big race with a big question markover who would ride it.

Then Kinane went to the States towin the Belmont Stakes; a few yearslater he went to Australia to win theMelbourne Cup. By the time VintageCrop broke Bart Cummings’ heartKinane had a Derby under his belttoo, and the rest has been recountedin these pages.

Kinane has transcended merejockeydom in the way that LesterPiggott and Steve Cauthen did, andperhaps Kieren Fallon does. To see thename MJ Kinane next to the horseyou fancied was a guarantee of goodfortune. There were many times whenthe horse wouldn’t be good enough,but you could never say that aboutthe man on his back. Kinane on yourside, on your horse, provoked acurious pre-race wellbeing.

Sure, that’s not to say that the manwas flawless. He dropped the reins inthe Breeders’ Cup Classic and droppedthe ball, allowing the relentlessTiznow to outgrind Giant’s Causeway,but after the feathers had been spatand the choler diffused, the blundersimply served to illustrate just howoften we had taken Kinane’s abilitiesfor granted. Even the greatestgunslingers get a misfire every nowand then.

Two great Kinane moments arefresher in the mind’s eye than others.When El Condor Pasa had left all hisArc rivals but one for dead ten yearsago, it was Kinane’s icy mastery of thesituation that spoke volumes. The

race was all but lost, but he knewMontjeu had it within him to bringthe leader back and he delivered himwith a perfectly timed rush to collarthe Japanese ace close home. It maynot have raised the famous Kinaneeyebrows, but it was certainly a ’kin’ell moment for this viewer.

The other was a similar piece ofenforcement, this time on Pilsudski inthe Japan Cup. Pilsudski didn’tpossess the push-button brilliance ofMontjeu, but he was a trier andKinane made him try all the way tothe line. He caught the long-timeleader but then had to dig deeper togo after Air Groove, and with Kinaneshovelling on the coals he held on bya neck.

T HERE will be a Kinane-sizedgap in the jockeys’ ranks forsome time. Some havecalled him the greatest Irishjockey ever to pull on silks,

and his absence next spring will takemore than a little getting used to. Hemay have been 50, but he could stillride like the Kinane of 30, and that is a privilege afforded to the very few.

Kinane didn’t go on as long asPiggott or Pat Eddery, but it is a luckyman indeed who can choose hismoment to stand aside. Neither injurynor fading fortune prompted thedecision to quit, but just theknowledge that there would be nogreater high upon which to go outthan the transcendent season enjoyedby the great Sea The Stars. If you aregoing to ride off into the sunset, youmay as well pick the right horse to doit on.

Watch this year’s Arc again, and tryto put yourself in Kinane’s place. Theweight of expectation around yourshoulders, the judgement of historyriding pillion, and the best horse inthe world underneath you withnowhere to go.

It was hard work but Kinane madeit look easy, the way he had beendoing for the previous 20 years. Hesteered his horse into the gaps, timedhis challenge and stamped the finalfurlong with a sureness that will livelong in the memory – just like thatheadline, just like the man whoinspired it.

‘Some have called him the greatestIrish jockey ever to pull on silks’

STEVEDENNIS