I was preaching. Just hours into the first day of the 2014 Cheltenham Festival, my hands were waving, my voice quavering, my blue elephant tie flying.
“You’ve seen the changing of the guard. In four minutes, the reigning champion becomes the former champion. Just like that. The public changing of the guard, the coldest cut. He’ll never be back. He might not ever win another race. That’s it. The crowd salutes him their champion in the winner’s enclosure, say goodbye to the champ. Goodbye The Fly.”