I’ve spent way too much time standing in the rain at Kempton Park on a Wednesday evening to care about what the official rankings say. If you look at the stats, they tell you one thing, but if you look at the way a jockey actually handles a horse when it’s boxed in at the two-furlong pole, you see something else entirely. Most people will give you a list of the top five based on wins. I’m giving you the people I’d actually put my own money on.
The machine that is Ryan Moore
Ryan Moore is a robot. I don’t mean that as a compliment, but I don’t mean it as an insult either. He is like a high-end German dishwasher: he just does the job with zero fuss and zero emotion. I’ve watched him in the parade ring dozens of times and he looks like he’d rather be getting a root canal than talking to an owner. But put him on a horse? Total control.
I know people will disagree with me here, but I think his lack of personality is his greatest strength. He doesn’t get rattled. I tracked his rides at Newmarket last season—47 races in total—and his timing on the Rowley Mile is bordering on supernatural. He knows exactly when the wind is going to catch a horse. He’s just better.
What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. He doesn’t ride the horse; he manages it. There’s a difference. Most jockeys are trying to survive the speed. Moore is dictating it. If you aren’t backing him in a Group 1, you’re basically burning your cash.
The Godolphin problem
Then you have William Buick. Look, he’s brilliant. You don’t get to be the first-choice rider for Godolphin if you’re a hack. But I have this very specific, probably unfair bias: I think he’s a bit of a corporate drone. Everything is too polished. He wins because he’s on the best horses 90% of the time. I want to see him win on a 12/1 shot at Redcar on a windy Tuesday before I put him in the same bracket as Moore.
Takeaway: Don’t confuse a good horse with a great jockey. Buick is clinical, but he has the easiest job in the world.
I used to think Buick was the heir apparent to the greats. I was completely wrong. He’s a specialist. If the horse is perfect, he’s perfect. If the horse is a bit of a nightmare, give me someone with more grit.
The part where I admit I’m an idiot
I learned my lesson about “following the talent” back in 2021 at the Ebor Festival in York. I had £200 on a horse because the jockey was the “it” guy of the moment. I won’t name him, but he’s tall. I have this theory that jockeys over 5’7” shouldn’t be allowed on a horse because their center of gravity is all wrong. It’s probably physiologically nonsense, but I stand by it. Anyway, this guy took the turn too wide, lost three lengths, and I watched my mortgage payment for the month vanish into the Yorkshire turf. I felt sick. I sat in the car for an hour afterward just staring at the steering wheel. Never again.
Speaking of tracks, the food at Sandown is genuinely offensive. I paid £14 for a burger there last month that tasted like a wet cardboard box. If they can’t get a patty right, how can they get the ground right? But I digress.
The grit of Hollie Doyle
Hollie Doyle is the real deal. Her riding style is like a terrier with a sock—she just will not let go. I don’t care about the gender politics of the sport; I care about who is going to push a horse through a gap that shouldn’t exist. She does that better than almost anyone else in the weighing room right now.
- She has better upper body strength than half the men.
- She doesn’t take any nonsense in the stewards’ room.
- Her strike rate on outsiders is actually higher than Moore’s if you adjust for the quality of the yard.
I might be wrong about this, but I think she’ll be champion jockey within three years if she stays injury-free. She has that hunger that the big-name guys lose once they have a few million in the bank.
A risky take on Oisin Murphy
I refuse to back Oisin Murphy. I don’t care if he’s the most talented guy in the room. I find his whole vibe exhausting. There’s a certain level of arrogance that works in racing, but with him, it feels like he’s performing for the cameras more than he’s riding the horse. I know he’s won titles. I know he’s technically gifted. I just can’t do it. I actively tell my friends to avoid his mounts if the odds are short. It’s not rational, but betting rarely is.
Also, I’m convinced that purple silks make horses run 2% faster. I have no data for this, but every time I see a horse in deep purple, I think it’s got an edge. Total lie, probably, but it’s my lie.
At the end of the day, the “best” jockey is the one who doesn’t panic when the plan goes out the window. Most of these kids coming up now are too reliant on the data and the instructions from the trainer. They’ve lost the instinct. They’ve lost the ability to feel the horse’s breathing change under them.
Is the sport getting too clinical? I don’t know. I just know that when the gates open at Ascot, I’m still looking for Ryan Moore’s name on the card first.
Stick to Moore. Avoid the tall guys. Don’t eat the burgers at Sandown.
