For those who watched Kerrin McEvoy grow up in Streaky Bay, it’s no surprise that he’s become a legend of his sport
HE was born in remote Streaky Bay, but Kerrin McEvoy was always destined to have his talents seen by the rest of the world.
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FROM the moment he could walk, Kerrin McEvoy only ever wanted to ride.
Born in remote Streaky Bay on October 24, 1980, it’s no exaggeration to say that he was born with a love of horses running through his veins.
Both grandfathers, Bill Holland and Charlie McEvoy, were horsemen – in particular, his “Pop” Holland was a jockey-turned-trainer. His father Phillip was a jockey, and his uncle Tony a trainer.
But it was Holland who was instrumental in turning the young McEvoy’s boyhood love of horses into a successful career that – after his third Melbourne Cup win on Tuesday – places him among the best jockeys in the world.
“Kerrin was around horses from a young age,” his mum Tracy says. “Even aged one, he was wobbling behind my dad.”
Streaky is a farming/ fishing town about an hour’s drive from Ceduna on the western side of Eyre Peninsula.
Somewhat isolated – 700km from Adelaide – the town is obsessed with horse racing.
The walls of the front bar at the Streaky Bay Hotel are adorned with racing memorabilia and almost everyone seems to have a connection to a horse, somewhere, somehow.
Tracy and Phil are still living in the modest home in which their three children grew up. Kerrin’s old bedroom has long been converted into a guest bedroom but an enlarged picture of him moments after his first Melbourne Cup win in 2000 takes pride of place on a wall. For Tracy, McEvoy’s focus and talent was evident very early.
First, he loved his toy rocking horse. Then, he graduated to a small broom and stick. Then he learnt riding technique on a chaff bag over which Holland slung a saddle. Then came pony club and gymkhana competitions.
McEvoy would wake up early and run to Holland’s property up the hill to rake out the yards before school. And every holidays he would hop – aged only eight or nine – on the Stateliner bus and head to Lindsay Park, where uncle Tony McEvoy was a foreman and he’d learn trackwork.
“In those days, Port Lincoln used to have their races on a Thursday every fortnight during the racing season, and Kerrin would take the day off school to watch,” Tracy says.
“Even Melbourne Cup day … there was no way I could drag him to school on that day.
“He’d only read horse books like Black Beauty and by the time he got through those, he’d just read Hoofs and Horns (magazines), but the teachers didn’t care because at least he was reading.”
When Year 9 at Streaky Bay Area School ended, McEvoy begged his parents to leave. They put their foot down: “At least do Year 10,” they pleaded.
“He was good at everything he tackled … he could have gone on and done whatever he wanted,” Tracy says.
It was a hard decision to let their son leave school, especially because all the McEvoys who’d gone into jockeying before him – Phillip and Tony included – turned out “heavy” in manhood. But, says Tracy, McEvoy wasn’t a big eater, never eating cakes or lollies “just chicken and a few veg and some mince meat”.
“But at that stage, he was only about 35kg so we made him do Year 10 then he left.”
McEvoy’s first jockey apprenticeship was with Holland, riding locally across the Eyre Peninsula, and after his first win at Ceduna in 1997, Adelaide beckoned and he quickly ended up in Melbourne.
Sister Renae Edmunds recalls this as a tricky time for her barely 18-year-old brother.
“It’s a really tough industry and you’ve got harsh critics – and he was in Melbourne ‘uming and ahing’ about whether he should come back to Adelaide,” she says.
“He rang my pop, who said: ‘Well, do you want to be the best jockey in Adelaide? Or the best jockey in the world?’ and Kerrin said: ‘The best jockey in the world’ and so pop told him to stay.”
That wouldn’t be the only time McEvoy would turn to Holland for advice. His wisdom became critical when counselling a nervous McEvoy, then barely 20, when he drew barrier 23 for his ride on Brew in the 2000 Melbourne Cup. Tracy recalls her son’s worry at being drawn wide, only to be told by Holland to treat the race like any other: “Pretend it’s the Penong Cup,” he told his grandson.
The rest is history. Holland died four years later.
Streaky Bay is undeniably proud of him, as the Kerrin McEvoy Sculpture Project, pushing for a Ken Martin-sculpted statue of the sportsman to be placed on the Streaky Bay foreshore, proves.
Grandmother, 89-year-old Connie McEvoy, avoids the pub when watching her grandson race, because it’s always too noisy. On Tuesday, she was watching from her living room.
“I wanted to concentrate on the race, then I came down here to celebrate with everyone,” she says.
Connie is keen to see him again at this year’s “McEvoy Christmas”, something of a famous event in Streaky Bay.
One person looking forward to catching up with him is Streaky Bay Racing Club secretary John Rumbelow. A Streaky local of almost 50 years, Rumbelow has known McEvoy since birth. “I coached him at junior golf and junior cricket,” he says. “He had a lot of ability at both but he was so small. With cricket, he was trying to be a fast bowler, but he was a jockey even back then. He can ride at 51kg now; his uncles all got too heavy.”
And that’s where Streaky Bay comes into it again: To maintain his weight, McEvoy adds a secret ingredient into his diet: Steamed local king george whiting, sent to him by the boxload through Renae’s Streaky Bay Marine Products.
The middle child – bookended by sisters Renae, 40, and Melissa, 32 – McEvoy grew up with a love of competing.
Renae recalls playing games where Kerrin would use a stopwatch to time his sisters running 100m lengths.
Tony Hogan has managed the Streaky Bay Hotel for a decade and in that time has seen the pub’s Melbourne Cup celebrations grow.
On Tuesday, there were close to 300 people crammed into the Streaky Bay Hotel watching as McEvoy won on board Godolphin’s Cross Counter.
It caps off an incredible 18 months for him, after winning back-to-back Everests on Redzel. Today, he rides Redzel again, this time in the VRC Sprint Classic.
Renae’s middle child, eight-year-old Max, has been bitten by the sporting bug and can be spotted riding his bike up and down the driveway – plastic ruler in one hand – riding a pretend Melbourne Cup winner. Just like his superstar jockey uncle has.
Streaky might just produce more champion jockeys yet.
Originally published as For those who watched Kerrin McEvoy grow up in Streaky Bay, it’s no surprise that he’s become a legend of his sport
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