From the rough-and-tumble of the jumps to the pinnacle of the Flat, Jim Crowley’s career has been defined by ambition, loyalty and an extraordinary association with some of the superstars of our sport — from breaking records on Battaash to the brilliance of Baaeed.
For every jockey, retirement is a thought that sits somewhere in the distance. Mentally, they try to push it out of sight, even when physically it becomes inevitable. After years of measuring life in rides and winners, now, as the one-year anniversary of a horror fall at York approaches, Crowley reflects on a career that has taken him further than he could ever have imagined — and on the fall that forced him to confront what might come next.
“A lot can go through your mind when you leave the paddock — the owners, the tactics — and when you get legged up over jumps, you know you’re going to get falls. But when you leave the parade ring on the Flat, you never think for a second that you won’t be coming back in together.
“It’s such fine margins. If I’d made it through that gap, we would have won easily, but the ifs and buts don’t matter now.
“If you can get up and walk away from a Flat fall, you’ve done very well. The impact of travelling at that speed and then being flung into fast ground is enormous.
“You are in the hands of the paramedics and the doctors. There’s nothing you can do. The shock that your body goes into half shields you from it. When my stomach was filling up with blood from the internal bleeding, I almost looked pregnant. I’d had that much morphine and gas, it was quite like an out-of-body experience.
“But deep down, I knew I was in trouble. I just don’t think I wanted to admit that to myself or anyone else. In my mind, I was going to come back riding. I didn’t want people questioning whether I’d be the same jockey again, whether my body would be up to it, or whether the injury might affect people’s opinion of me when it came to getting rides.
“Having that frame of mind helped me through the days when I was flat on my back. You’re basically just lying there, waiting for your body to start healing, waiting for the days to be over and the pain to subside. And that’s not me complaining. That’s just how it was. I know that could have been the end of me.”
“I’m based in Sussex, so Oaksey House is a good hour and a half away. After spending a month in hospital and then another two months in a hospital bed in my living room, it was a very isolating time.”
“Once I’d progressed to a wheelchair and could get to Oaksey, being able to stay for a few days in one of the self-contained annexes was a game changer. The hydrotherapy pool, Game Ready machine — they have everything covered, and there’s always someone to talk to. Expert help around me and just getting out and being around people was the lift I really needed at that time. They couldn’t have been more accommodating, and for me, to be able to stay over was a really important part of getting through that period.
“The home support was brilliant too. There was always someone ringing to check in. They arranged things like ramps at home so I could get my wheelchair in and out and sort what surgeon would be best for my injuries. You never plan to get injured, so you never think about all the things you’ll need until suddenly the simplest parts of everyday life become a challenge.
“I must say, Jack Berry was fantastic. He and his wife, Jo, took the time to come and see me in hospital, which really cheered me up and meant an awful lot. What an absolute gentleman. I can’t speak highly enough of them, and I can’t thank him enough.
“I’ve been riding long before the centres were set up. I’d broken ribs and fractured my neck in a couple of places, although all were relatively minor. You were very much on your own to get back up and running.
“I broke my collarbone so many times that the surgeon eventually got fed up and removed it, which was quite common for National Hunt jockeys in the late 1990s. You wouldn’t even know I’d had it done, to be honest — it just means my golf swing is a bit dodgy.
“I’ve ridden at Olympia to support the IJF, but that’s probably the closest I’d ever come. So I know I’ve been extremely lucky throughout my 29 years in the saddle, including a decade over jumps. This was the first time I’d needed the IJF’s services.”
A lot of people struggle when their career comes to an end, particularly when it’s not on their own terms. How have you found it?
“I found it difficult when I was injured, without a doubt. Recovery is a very slow process, and jockeys are used to living life at a fast pace. I think there’s an attitude among jockeys that we don’t have time to be injured. You almost get frustrated that your body doesn’t heal quicker.
“When I originally had the accident and I said to the surgeon, ‘How long?’ he said a year to 18 months. And that really shook me. Then I was determined to try and get back sooner than what he had predicted, but what I’ve come to realise is that wanting to return and being physically capable of returning are two very different things.
“I really wanted to get back, as nobody wants to go out like that, but unfortunately we can’t choose how we retire sometimes.
“But ultimately I gave myself every chance to try and get back, and after five operations in ten months my body was saying no. And I think, in a way, that’s why I am at peace with the decision, because I know I’ve done everything I can to get back, and it just hasn’t worked out.
“Do I miss it at the moment? No. I’ve had a good career. I’m not 28, I’m 48. I don’t look back with too many ifs and buts.
“Maybe come Royal Ascot, or if Baaeed’s brother Raaheeb turns out to be a top-class horse, I’ll miss it. I’ll always be happy for connections but sad not to be a part of it. But right now, I’m so busy trying to get my next career up and running.
“It was a relief or release in the end because, obviously, every time I went somewhere, very kindly people would ask, ‘When are you back?’ And that was tough, as I knew I wasn’t sure I was going to get back, but at that point hadn’t come to terms with that yet. I wanted to know just as much as they did.
“People mean so well by it, I’m sure. People often are just looking for conversation and they would say, ‘Oh, your horses are running well,’ or, ‘That was a great win for Shadwell at Ascot,’ and obviously I’m happy for all the people involved, not in a sour way at all, but just in a natural, human, competitive nature, it does hurt watching it go on without you, sitting at home with a broken body. My mind wanted to be back on the racecourse.
“And now it’s all open and in the air that I’m not coming back, it is a relief in that sense. The conversations I have every day are completely different now.
“I’m far from out of the woods. I’m still very lame after standing for too long. Funnily enough, I can ride out, but my body would not be up to race riding again, and obviously I’m starting out as a trainer now, so I’m going to have to do a lot of work walking the sales and things like that.
“So I really want to keep on top of my physio and fitness, so this won’t be the last visit to Oaksey House. I’ll definitely call back in whenever I’m passing through.”
And now, onto training — how is it starting to take shape?
“I enjoy working with horses. I love being around them. They are my life, really.
“I’m looking forward to the challenge. I’ve been around a long time. I’ve been into a lot of different yards, and there are things I’m going to take from everywhere — Sir Michael Stoute, etc. Everybody’s different. All the top trainers I’ve ever been involved with, one of the things they’ve got in common is their attention to detail.
“From a personal point of view, I’d love to not just train winners but to train jockeys as well, or people in their careers, as the sport has given me so much. I would like to give back. I would love to be able to help people if I can.
“Things are snowballing quite quickly now. Since I’ve announced it, I’ve been overwhelmed with the support. I’ve got a few orders for the sales. I’ve got to get my business up and running over the winter. I don’t plan on having any runners until Christmas time or the New Year, and I want to get everything in place before we start.
“There are a few trainers that have invited me to come and stay since announcing that I’m starting training. So I’ll be spending a bit of time with trainers and sticking my head in the office. I’ve got my own ideas of how I want to train the horses. It’s more a case of how people run their businesses.
“Being involved in an operation like Shadwell makes you appreciate the long game that it is. I’ve been fortunate enough to breed a few winners. I’m well aware that it’s a lot of hard work, but hard work has never been a problem for me, and I’ve got some unfinished business to do.
“Johnny Murtagh came up to me in Dubai. He was one of the first people to tell me to give training a go. He said, ‘I love it and you’ll love it as well.’ Richard Hughes was the same. He said he gets more satisfaction from training winners than he did riding winners.
“Away from patching me back up, the IJF has also been great for all my children. They’ve all had lessons on the simulators at the Peter O’Sullevan House and Oaksey House with a jockey coach. My daughter Alice has got her amateur licence out. My 13-year-old son Sam is very keen. My other daughter Bella is more interested in showjumping at the moment. My wife Lucinda rode winners as an amateur.
“To be a jockey, you have to be quite selfish with your time. Now I’ve got the chance of my second career and to make it a family business. I’m looking forward to being constantly surrounded by horses and spending more time with my family.
“The ultimate would be to breed, train and for one of my children to ride.”
Jim Crowley in conversation with Georgia Cox