High Stakes

In the lead-up to New Zealand Cup and Show Week, Kate Preece talks to three of the South Island's top jockeys about work, weight and winning.

High stakes

"I love winning. It doesn't matter if it's a big race or a little race," veteran jockey David Walsh says.

For many jockeys, there's no such thing as second best. The desire to be the first past the finishing post is what makes the work and the weight-watching worthwhile.

"I think that's probably one of the secrets to being able to stick at it for so long. It's not about the money, your name in the paper, the fame or the glory; it's just about winning. It's just that little devil streak in you that makes you competitive. If you didn't have that, you can't succeed to the level that I have."

At 52, David has more than 30 years' experience in the saddle and is on track to break Lance O'Sullivan's record for the number of races won by a Kiwi jockey in New Zealand. He's about 130 wins shy of the 2358 target, with that record-breaking ride possible within the next two years.

For David, it was a few too many concussions on the rugby field that had his 13-year-old self looking for a different pastime. Although his parents weren't sure about him becoming part of the then "scandalous" racing world, it was fitting that the smallest kid in school, a mere 39kg at 15, should consider riding horses.

The Ashburton-born jockey says riding came naturally and, by 18, he had moved to Christchurch and ticked up 62 wins.

Apprentice KC Walters has found it difficult to maintain an optimum weight and has had to forfeit a few rides for being too heavy. As a year 11 pupil at high school in Matamata, he was embarrassed to qualify for the under-50kg rugby competition, yet as a 20-year-old jockey, 57kg is too heavy and he uses the sauna or a hot bath to help shed an extra two or three kilograms before a race.

Things will get tougher once KC becomes a senior rider, as he will lose his "claim". This allowance for training jockeys means horses carry less weight to make up for the rider's inexperience, "which gives the horse a bit of an advantage", he says.

KC, who is based at Te Akau Stables in Rangiora, where he is finishing his four-year apprenticeship, admits being a jockey isn't as easy as he expected, but he says the thrill of the race is indescribable.

He'll never forget his first win. It was at Riccarton, in September 2009, on a five-year-old mare picked to win.

"Before we knew it, we were out in front. It went all silent after that. I couldn't hear a thing. I don't know why. But, yeah, it was the best feeling ever. Still to this day I remember it," he says.

"It's real silent [on the track]. You can sometimes hear the other riders breathing. It's a surreal feeling out there. I can't explain it."

Kylie Williams' entry to the racing world came at 16, when she answered an ad in the newspaper looking for apprentice jockeys. What was initially a way to leave high school has become a way of life.

At 31, she's "one of the boys" on the track, yelling out to "old man Walshy" and "Maori boy" KC during races and not letting anyone push her around.

"You've got to have a little bit of mongrel in ya, I think."

There's been an increase in the number of female apprentices at the Riccarton Apprentice Jockey School and David believes the trend will continue. Eventually, more women will be taking the reins than men, and it all comes down to weight. Young boys are getting heavier and the average weight continues to creep up each year.

Kylie doesn't stress about grams; she's one of the lucky ones who is a natural lightweight. Currently heavier than usual, she tips the scales at 53kg.

Working as a trainer as well as a jockey, the mother of two leads a fairly normal lifestyle.

"I live on chocolate," she laughs. "My biggest downfall is chocolate; I absolutely love it."

However, she describes the extreme measures some jockeys adopt to keep weight off for race meetings. Some starve themselves for several days before a race and spend hours in the sauna. Once the races are run, the famished and dehydrated jockeys will binge on food, kickstarting the vicious cycle again.

Potent diuretics were another weapon against weight, until a rule change in 2007 saw them banned.

This yo-yo dieting can have lasting effects on the kidneys, and if Kylie had to work so hard on her weight, the life of the jockey would not be for her. "I could think of better things to do than stuff my body."

Today, Kylie is nearing 500 career wins and joins David and KC in South Island's top 12 jockeys for the 2010-11 season.

I meet David at his Yaldhurst home at 10am on a Wednesday. He's not yet had time for breakfast, although he has already spent a few hours at Riccarton Racecourse exercising horses. This trackwork keeps the jockey in form, too, and helps maintain the contact with trainers that might secure the next ride.

As a freelance jockey, David is not tied to one stable, so, like anyone running their own business, if he doesn't work, he doesn't get paid. This is why Christchurch jockeys will make a day trip to Invercargill for a race meeting and then be back at Riccarton Racecourse the next day. If you miss a ride, another jockey will take your place and, if they win, the trainer is not obliged to give you another thought.

"Most jockeys make less-than-average wage," David says. "The top 10 make good money - say $100,000 or more - but you've got to remember their expenses are higher to do that."

For every race, a jockey receives $111 in the hand, so 500 rides might bring in about $50,000 a year.

"By the time you take your costs and everything off, you might end up with $35,000, if you're lucky. That's only an average wage and you've risked your neck 500 times to do it," David says.

A win adds to the kitty, as the jockey receives five per cent of the stakes. David's next race in Palmerston North comes with a prize pool of $70,000. If, for example, David's horse wins first place and the winner receives $40,000, David would return to Christchurch $2000 richer from the one job.

KC doesn't receive any money from his wins, yet. Instead, his winnings are kept in an account until the end of his apprenticeship, when he will get it as one lump sum. In the meantime, he receives a wage from the stables.

"James MacDonald, I heard - he's the No. 1 apprentice in New Zealand - is going to walk out with just under $4 million. If you work hard, you can get good money," says KC, who is looking at a figure in the tens of thousands. However, he's already been advised not to spend it all in one go, as the nature of the profession means an injury might be career-ending.

Says Kylie, who continued to ride until she was five months pregnant: "I've been doing it for 14 years and I've had, what, two broken collarbones and a broken nose, so I've been pretty lucky."

In 2005, though, she witnessed the horrific accident that killed 16-year-old Sam McRae at Riverton.

"He got dragged from about the 800 [metre mark] all the way down the straight, and you could see him just getting smashed," she says.

"I think it's like any sport - anything can happen. We could walk out there and get hit by the car. If people know what they're doing, you're alright."

This element of danger is why annual ACC levies are $10,000.

David's wife, Julie, who works in administration at Riccarton Racecourse, says those who think jockeys are well paid only see half the story.

"Their gear is so expensive and it has to be maintained at a really high standard, all the time, because it's not safe to go out there with a girth that's about to snap," she says.

From the saddle to the silks, the jockey supplies everything bar the horse's bridle. By the time he's packed three or four saddles, silks, a couple of pairs of boots, girths, cleaning equipment and so on, David takes more than 20kg of equipment with him to the track - and that's saying something, considering its all designed to be light. 

David passes me his boots and I nearly throw them into the air. They seem more like foot coverings than protective footwear. His helmet is more robust - a huge step up from the 1940s papier-mâché caps - and this one's top of the line. David decided to invest in the $1200 helmet following an incident three years ago, when the horse he was riding broke its front legs, and he was thrown off, landing on his head

"You've only got one head and you may as well try and buy the best helmet you can buy, because you never know."

Racing horses is a risky business, the stakes are high, but so too are the rewards. The hours might be long and the travel costs high, but it doesn't get much better than being paid to win.