The Joy of Six: sporting heartbreak

One of sport’s many affirming beauties is its intimacy: we get to see people experience the most ecstatic and most mortifying moments of their lives, live. Yes, they’re seeking fulfilment and validation in the wrong places and yes, this is your super soaraway Joy of Six about to volunteer an unsolicited self-help tip but, immeasurably wise though The Awakened Family is – if you’re a parent or a person, read it – how many titles, belts or majors has Dr Shefali Tsabary won? Exactly.

Which is to say that, though quality time with family and friends is affirming and uplifting, it’s also predictable and universal, so arguably dissimilar to a transcendent crescendo releasing the pressure of a lifetime and enshrining a person in the annals of humanity for evermore. Just ask John White, the journeyman jockey who rode 50-1 shot Esha Ness in the 1993 Grand National.

The start of the race was delayed when animal rights activists invaded the course, then again when the tape tangled around various riders, forcing Keith Brown, starting proceedings for the final time before retiring, to signal a restart with his red recall flag. So off they went again only for a second tangle to occur – except this time, Brown’s recall flag failed to unfurl. Consequently, 30 of 39 runners set off with White and Esha Ness finishing first, in the second-fastest time ever.

There’s not much that’s harder than being a jockey: hundreds of races a year, wrestling with a gigantic beast, at terrifying speed, risking death and serious injury, while starving oneself as a matter of course. So, though we cannot for a second grasp how White felt celebrating a joy he feared would never come, we can assume that in the moment, a complex and stressful world suddenly