Number 9 had clearly decided that the racing could wait. I was wandering around at the Dingle Races and right in front of me this dark bay racehouse reared up on it’s hind legs while the poor jocket and two men tried to calm the animal. It only lasted a moment and the racing continued.

The man in the blue jacket has both hands on the jockey’s left boot, mid heave, and number 37 is halfway between earth and saddle. It’s neither one place nor the other. I love the awkward physics of a leg-up. It looks ungainly until you remember it’s the only sensible way to get a small,…