Champion jockey on pursuit of sobriety, his April car crash, a voracious need to win – and the poetry of Sylvia Plath
‘I
didn’t feel good,” Oisin Murphy says with a grimace as he gestures towards the birthday cards still standing in his house more than a month since he turned 30. Murphy has already spoken for an hour, in raw and moving detail, about the guilt he will feel when he has to walk down a guard of honour to mark his fifth champion jockeys’ title at Ascot on Saturday, his daily struggle with alcoholism, his near catastrophic return to drinking this summer, the dangers of racing and the Sylvia Plath poem he loves most.
But the milestone of his 30th birthday troubles him. “It was incredibly significant because I never thought I’d get to 30,” Murphy says, as he uses a smouldering cigarillo to light another in an unbroken chain stretching across this corner of Lambourn.
They call it the Valley of the Racehorse and, on a Monday morning, mist hangs over the village – in the same way that Murphy is enveloped in a cloud of smoke. “I never had any plans past 30,” he says amid a fresh puff.
