Kieren Fallon: wild and troubled but a genius in the saddle

To punters he was, quite simply, King Kieren. At the peak of his powers he was possessed of an air of invincibility, carving through a competitive field with a jaunty whistle, a muscular arm and a flagrant disregard for the laws of probability. If Fallon was on your side then you had an edge; a lethal edge, somewhere between broadsword and scimitar, that inspired confidence in those who marched behind it.

The trouble with the man from the backwoods of County Clare was that for every magnificent peak there was an equivalent and inevitable trough that could be relied upon to undo the good that had gone before. What many of us found ourselves doing in moments of frustrated contemplation was wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we believed Fallon to be the villain of the piece or simply a victim of circumstance; a convenient scapegoat for racing’s establishment and the press – as he often viewed himself – or the architect of his own downfall.

There were multiple accusations but often, and especially on the more serious charges, Fallon was found to be an innocent man, not a race-fixer or a tawdry peddler of tips to undesirables. It’s just that we’d rather he hadn’t got into the mess in the first place.