Frankie: The Autobiography of Frankie Dettori

Shortly after I joined him Mattie converted the small spare bedroom of his flat into an office. Once we were up and running I bought him a computer to make his job easier. He spent the mornings on the phone, ringing trainers, putting me forward wherever possible, then headed for Cuthie Suttle’s betting shop to watch the racing. He was one of life’s punters and now, working with Bruce and myself, he was better informed than ever. But he still used to lose his cash most days.

Luca rarely has his horses ready for the early part of the season, so I had to look elsewhere for support in April and May. The first Dettori to make a big impact that season was my father who won the Italian 2,000 Guineas on Sikeston for English trainer John Dunlop.

Things improved dramatically after I rode two winners at Newmarket on 13 May. The first of them came in a valuable sprint that was shown live on TV. My horse Didicoy was well backed and I produced him fast and late to catch Hafir on the line. That was a massive victory for me, the start of a fantastic season. Half an hour later I managed a second narrow triumph on Khaydara. I was on my way!

Another double at Catterick twelve days later set me up for a month of unrelenting success in June. Whatever I touched turned to gold. In the space of three weeks I achieved four trebles. The first of them came at Leicester, where I lost my 5 pounds claim by winning on Versailles Road, trained by Susan Piggott. She had taken over her husband’s training licence in January 1988 while Lester was serving a prison sentence for tax evasion, and she kept it when he was released in October. It was my first ride for them.

One of my trebles that month illustrates the crazy routine that flat jockeys are forced to follow at the height of the season. The day before this treble I had ridden at Brighton’s evening meeting and didn’t reach home much before midnight. The next morning I left for work at dawn, rode one lot for Luca, then hitched a ride with Willie Ryan to Redcar, where I managed a double. Then it was off again on another long-distance trek to Warwick where I won the final race of the evening shortly after 9 p.m. on Tears Of Happiness. At least we could catch up with our sleep on Sundays in those days. Not any more. Now there is wall-to-wall racing seven days a week and all the boys are exhausted by high summer. It’s reached the point where they almost welcome a suspension which forces them to step off the treadmill.

It was on one of those Sundays that I experienced my first and last game of cricket. I foolishly allowed myself to be talked into turning out for the Cumani XI against a team representing fellow Newmarket trainer Michael Stoute who, as a native of Barbados, is a cricket fanatic. I spent the first half of the afternoon bored witless in the field, hoping desperately that the ball didn’t come my way. Later, when it was my turn to bat, I wandered into the middle without a clue, stood there holding my bat awkwardly in front of me and was bowled first ball by Stoute. I hadn’t realised how fast the ball comes at you! To this day the game is a complete mystery to me and I cannot understand why apparently sane people like Michael and Julian Wilson, the ex-BBC racing presenter, are obsessed with it.