In adversity, Pat Smullen went from a racing icon to a national treasure

On Tuesday night, Pat Smullen’s time among us came to an end when he breathed his last breath surrounded by close family in St Vincent’s Hospital in Dublin.

His body is now at peace, having been subject to such a cruel onslaught since his diagnosis with pancreatic cancer on March 26, 2018. Pat’s mind, though, had long since been at ease.

He never rode in public following that fateful day two and a half years ago, yet our respect and the public’s affection for him grew exponentially with every passing day.

We empathised with him because he was ill, of course, but the overwhelming outpouring of support for him was founded on the manner in which he embraced his plight. He stared his destiny in the eye and smiled.

At a very early remove, Pat resolved not to wallow in self-pity and that he wouldn’t conceal his ordeal. In doing so, he became a national treasure, a beacon of light who refused to be defined by his illness.

Somehow, despite his shocking predicament, he empowered people to feel better about themselves. A totem of the racing world, he was now an ambassador for hope and positivity.

As such, his loss will resonate far and wide. The cascade of tributes being paid to him, including from our head of state President Michael D Higgins and the Taoiseach Micheal Martin in Dail Eireann, is testament to the extent to which he touched such a diverse range of people.

Pat wanted some good to come of his hardship, so he set about breaking down barriers and raising awareness and funds to support the unending scientific quest to advance the unequal war on cancer.

He had been subjected to the most traumatic fate, but reconciled himself with his situation so that he could help others. It was a graceful and dignified response that epitomised him.

At his lowest ebb, there was no bitterness, resentment or recrimination. Instead, he put his energy into making the most of what he had.

That, more than any of his exploits in the saddle, will be his most enduring legacy.

Pat Smullen pictured at Naas in November with his great ally Dermot WeldCredit: Caroline Norris

For 25 years, as he pursued single-mindedly and relentlessly his ambition to lift himself from humble origins as the son of a farm labourer in Rhode, County Offaly to make the most of his potential as a jockey, he cut a detached, cool and somewhat aloof figure.

Such discretion was a by-product of his overwhelming desire to succeed, infused as well by a nagging lack of self-belief that prevented him from ever fully accepting he was worthy of his lofty status. It meant he was always on edge, which, he would later suggest, was his edge.

Pat’s pursuit of winners manifested itself in a staunch dedication, and there is a passage from a Kieren Fallon interview some years ago that gets right to the kernel of their contrasting approaches. In illustrating his own mercurial and often hell-raising ways, Fallon pointed to Pat’s straight-laced temperament as a foil.

“The person who gives his whole life to the job to the best of his ability,” Fallon said of his old colleague. “No distractions. Great professionalism. I don’t know how they do it. I’ve had my quirks. Pat has had his tractors.” That humility and integrity were his core values.

Counter-intuitive as it may seem, it was only after he had been forced to abandon a career that yielded such glorious accomplishments that he came into his own. Character reveals itself in adversity, and how that rings true in the case of Pat Smullen.

On learning of his affliction, and knowing how aggressive pancreatic cancer can be, he shed the defence mechanism that had served him so well for so long.

As the world closed in around him, Pat opened his heart. He never looked more comfortable in his own skin and carried himself with a lightness of being that was at odds with the assault on his physical wellbeing.

Such philanthropy of spirit saw him morph from a champion jockey to a champion in the truest sense of the word. He had earned a position of privilege, so what could he do with it?

Consider this, from Cancer Trials Ireland’s chief executive Eibhlín Mulroe and its Clinical Lead, Professor Ray McDermott, on behalf of the association’s staff: “Earlier this year, Comic Relief reached out to the entire country and raised almost €6m with the help of a host of celebs across several hours of primetime TV. Pat Smullen and the horse racing community raised almost half that – €2.6m – for pancreatic cancer clinical trials alone.

“People diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in Ireland will feel the benefit of it for years, if not decades, to come. The low incidence of pancreatic cancer (around 560 people diagnosed in Ireland each year), the fact that it is not usually diagnosed early, and the relative difficulty of treating the disease effectively with the usual tools (chemotherapy; radiotherapy) make for a challenging, sparse research environment.

"But as a direct result of the funds Pat helped raise, Cancer Trials Ireland received nine research proposals this year. Three studies are now being advanced or explored, one of which will open in Ireland in a matter of weeks. That is the work Pat has enabled us to do.

“But that is not all that Pat did for Cancer Trials Ireland. Last November, he helped us to raise more than €120,000 for ovarian and prostate cancer trials. Earlier this year, he gave us the go-ahead to fund a Next Generation Sequencing machine (€100,000) for St Vincent’s Hospital, Dublin. This machine will allow doctors to genetically sequence pancreatic cancer tumours, and other tumours, potentially opening up treatment options for thousands of people with all types of cancer.

"On a more personal level, Pat continually made himself available for interviews, photo calls, and phone calls – anything that might help people in a situation similar to his own.”

In extremis, at his lowest ebb, Pat gave more than he took. It is that selfless generosity of time, energy and emotion that has inspired so many of us who knew him, and so many who didn’t.

Right now, in the midst of such harrowing grief for his wife Frances and their children Hannah, Paddy and Sarah, as well as their extended family – many of whom we also know so well – that feels like no consolation. A husband, a father, a brother and a son is gone too soon.

That bad things happen to good people will forever be something we struggle to accept, but these matters are indiscriminate.

Last May, as we sat in the kitchen of their beautiful Brickfield Stud home on the banks of the Grand Canal in Rhode, where he had found great solace since his diagnosis, Frances was minded to temper the talk of Pat’s bravery.

Conscious that so many, not least their late friend John Shortt, had been similarly brave, they were both keenly aware that courage and fortitude aren’t always enough.

If they were, Pat would surely still be with us. He will live forever in our hearts.