It’s the Friday before Punchestown, Le Frimeur has just galloped past me on the
gallop at home doing his final piece of work before he travels. His final piece of work
before the first Grade One of his life.
Hopefully the first of many.
Le Frimeur isn’t a wildly impressive work horse. He lengthens rather than quickens,
he always has. This morning is nothing out of the ordinary. We have brought him
carefully forward since Newbury and the intensive hard work is done.
This morning he moves past me really well though and Issy’s feedback is positive.
That’s good news as she is generally pretty guarded about him. Her words from a
fortnight earlier told me enough however…
“If things keep going this well I think we can get quite excited about this lad in
Ireland” the statement she delivered as I helped wash him off.
Fast forward to Raceday – Wednesday 29th April 2026 – day now etched in my
memory for the rest of time.
When any of my horses travel away on overnight trips my travelling team of Amy or
Dom, know their trainer loves to be kept in the loop. They are both so good at it now
I don’t have to bombard them with questions – are they drinking enough, are they
relaxed and eating normally; is everything ok with them? They both know. There’s
nothing I like more than “they have arrived safely and no problems”.
Since Le Frimeur has arrived in Ireland everything has been perfect, not a foot out of
place. Bear in mind he’s five and this is only his third race under rules and fourth in
total if you count his sole point to point, he is not a bit worried of his new
surroundings. He is eating, drinking and does not care about Kildare being his new
home for a few days.
He left for Ireland in fantastic shape and when I see him for the first time Wednesday
morning I can see why Amy and Megan are so pleased with him. He looks a picture,
has lost no weight, is relaxed, moving well and looks fit… really fit.
I am getting to know JJ Slevin a little more now – at least I think I am – it occurs to
me that JJ doesn’t waste his words.
We have a brief chat as I collect his saddle and when he tells me his plan the only
thing I can add is the fact he is a different horse from Newbury. If that was a dress
rehearsal or a stepping stone, this is the season’s main event and he is as ready as I
can get him for it.
Grade One nerves, whatever anyone tells you are different. Every race to me
matters, of course it does. Every race matters very much, it has too and I hope they
always do but for Grade Ones you get an extra knot in your stomach.
I head into the pre-parade ring to meet Simon Munir, Isaac Souede and Daryl Jacob,
a team that have won more Grade Ones than I have had hot dinners. They are a
picture of calm. They have been here before. Unbeaten, exciting, could be anything
horses, for this team is not new territory. I try to style it out and act as calm as
possible, enjoy a nice chat with the three of them before heading over to pop JJ’s
saddle on him.
Le Frimeur has been calm since he arrived in Ireland but he is alive now. He knows
what he is here for all of a sudden and he’s taking a bit of handling. Megan is at his
head, Amy is getting squashed the other side of him and I am trying to get the saddle
on him as quick as I can. I’m just thinking to myself the sooner he is back on the go
again the better.
Happily, he stands still long enough for us to get him saddled before Meg and Amy
get him on the move again. He takes a couple of laps to calm back down but the girls
are doing a brilliant job and by the time he gets into the main parade ring he is back
to himself.
I do not want to say it out loud but I am so happy with how he looks. He is gleaming.
I love it when my horses look like this before a race. No excuses.
JJ appears from the weighing room with a change of plan. There isn’t as much pace
in the race as he first anticipated so he is going to be handier. We all agree and
Daryl chucks JJ onboard. It is almost a year to the day that Simon Munir, in this very
paddock, told me that Le Frimeur was going to be joining me. We take a moment to
appreciate a cool full circle moment and we wish each other luck.
I get my spot in the stand and train my binoculars on JJ…here we go.
The race from where I’m standing is smooth. Le Frimeur is listening to JJ and he is
traveling kindly, bit of light and in a good rhythm. Perfect. I have become a pretty
calm watcher of races and normally with Paul riding my horses I generally know from
his body language how we are getting on.
I obviously don’t know JJ’s style as well, but when Le Frimeur winged the middle
hurdle on the back straight and JJ didn’t break his stride after it and instead let him
gallop on into the lead my heart rate rises. We are still a long way from home, but he
is clearly getting a good feeling from the horse to be riding him with such
confidence.
Breathe.
He gallops up across the side of the course and is in and away from two out quickly.
The binoculars are now less steady in my hands and round the home bend it occurs
to me that my heart is going to beat out of my chest.
I’m trying to breathe, to watch and to see if JJ can get him on a good stride at the
last. He lands, takes a little organising but JJ balances him, gets him on an even keel
and away he gallops, head bowed low all the way to the line in the end running away
from Zanoosh.
Oh my f£$%ing god I say a couple of times to myself. What the F$£k do i do now?!
I ring my sister Amy at home and we shout words in an incoherent manner for about
30 seconds. Then ring my grandad and shout “what a bloody horse that is” at him a
few times. He’s in tears and tells me he will ring later.
I am walking or maybe floating back to the paddock, a few huge breaths, I’m trying to
slow myself down, try and take this all in, slow it all down. I can’t, it’s hopeless. This
is not real life.
Well done, high fives, handshakes, interviews are coming from everywhere. Brian
Gleeson, Ed Bailey, Daryl, Mum and Dad, my team, Simon and Isaac, everyone
happy everyone excited. Me, I am sure making no sense. Moments of sheer joy. Just
amazing.
Le Frimeur and JJ walk back into the winners enclosure and I am trying to compose
myself to hear what JJ has to say. No chance. There are pictures, hugs with Meg
and Amy, a pat for Le Frimeur, another pat for Le Frimeur. There is an on-course
interview, some written media interviews, a trophy presentation, picture. Blur blur
blur.
I get off the podium to be greeted by a hug of congratulations from Lydia Hislop.
Another interview – I pause and ask for just a second – take a few more deep breaths
and yet again try to compose myself at the situation. To Lydia I do my best to
articulate how amazing this feels, I still don’t have the words. Lydia is smiling back at
me somewhat amused I think at just how excited I am.
I am then whisked off to the winning connections room and I am greeted by Daryl,
Simon and Isaac, each one calm, beaming and very amused at my lack of
composure and excitement at the whole thing.
“Harry I think your parents are more excited than Isaac and I” Simon says laughing
at how beside ourselves we all are.
The rest of the day at the races passes in a champagne fuelled daze. Gaelic Warrior
does Gaelic Warrior things. We keep celebrating. I just cannot believe this has
happened.
The rest of the day is just so happy and I end up having a meal back at the hotel with
four friends reminiscing on a day I have dreamt of since I started training.
Nine days on I still get chills thinking back to that moment when he crossed the line.
This afternoon I walked round the field that the afore mentioned unbeaten five-year-
old is now spending his summer holidays in and paused. 3 years ago on this day
there hadn’t been a racehorse set foot at Upper Farm Stables. Now, this afternoon in
the first field that I walked round on my very first visit to the place I now call home, Le
Frimeur does too.
And who knows, in him perhaps I have a horse that can make a reality some of
those dreams I was mad enough to have when I first walked round a derelict farm
those years ago.
Those dreams are for another day though. For now I can spend all summer smiling
remembering a day in Punchestown where my Grade One dreams came true.
A first Grade One. I desperately hope not the last, but it’ll take some topping.
Thank you Le Frimeur.