‘I live a funny sort of life’: Pride and his joy talk up their chances

The trainer of proven Everest performer Private Eye believes his horse can give him two in a row.

Trainer Joe Pride with Private Eye at his Warwick Farm stables prior to running in Saturdays Everest Cup at Randwick. Picture: Jane Dempster/The Australian.

Joe Pride is a ripper. Welcomes us to his Warwick Farm stables with open arms. Talks a million miles an hour. Trains racehorses that run even faster.

We shuffle past a stray white cat with no name, standing at the Stroud Ave entrance like a puffed-up security guard – “a blow-in after a free feed”, according to Pride – to have a yarn with The Everest-winning trainer. Private Eye wanders over. The big lug rests his chin on Pride’s shoulder. Look at these two, goofing around like a coupla mates who might go for a hit of golf after lunch.

When Pride says, “He’s a good bloke, this one, the best,” I could swear Private Eye kicks the dirt and goes all bashful. Thanks for that, mate. You’re not too bad yourself. When Pride claims Private Eye was an unlucky third in last year’s The Everest, I could swear the seven-year-old gelding nods. See my barrier? The traffic? No chance! When Pride reckons Private Eye can win this year’s The Everest at Royal Randwick on Saturday, I could swear the horse is about to wrap a hoof around his trainer’s shoulder and say, Thanks, mate. I’ll give it a go. For us.

“He’s a good fella,” Pride says.

Takes one to know one.

Life changing

Joe Pride, the trainer with the hustler’s name, is The Everest’s defending champ. He won last year’s $20 million rumble with Think About It, raking in $9 million for connections and pocketing 10 per cent himself for his first and third placegetters. You’d pull off a bank heist for less. There’s more to The Everest than the loot, and more to Pride than grabs for cash, but let’s get this question out of the way. What’s it like to win nine million in 67 seconds?

“It’s life-changing money, I get that,” he says. “But you know what was strange? All I felt was relief. I know some people were disappointed in the way I reacted. I didn’t show much emotion. I had friends there who were waiting for me to jump up and down. Honestly, it wasn’t like the energy totally left my body, but it was like that. I felt like I was going to win the race. For the weeks leading up to it, I was really confident, probably too confident. When it happened it was just the feeling of, thank goodness. Because I thought if I didn’t win it last year, I was never going to win it.”

Why? “I’d been close the year before,” he says. “Second with Private Eye. This time, I felt like I had the two perfect horses. Everything had gone fine in the lead-up. It’s your grand final, right? So in that situation, it’s going to be deflating if you don’t get the result. I got the win and – look, I’m not an actor. I can’t pull out something in that moment to make myself look any happier than I was. I was happy. That night and the next day, I was over the moon.

“But in the moment – is this really happening? You can’t predict how you’re going to react in those situations. At different times I get really pumped up over results. I’m yelling at the screen and cheering and all the rest of it. But winning The Everest, that feeling was something different.”

Talking tactics

Private Eye and Think About It are neighbours. There’s a hole in the wall that separates their boxes. You could swear they’re having a chat. Got any milk, mate? Anything good on tele? Maybe they’re talking Everest tactics. Maybe last year’s winner is telling this year’s hopeful, mate, stay out of trouble early. Keep in touching distance. You’ve been getting too far back lately. Then kapow, mate! Bring it home! Welcome to the club!

“They’ve lived next door to each other for three years,” Pride says. “They know each other so well. I put all the good horses together here. The best horses usually have good, positive attitudes, and I think they feed off each other. These two can talk tactics as much as they want to. It wouldn’t make sense to have my worst horse living next to my best horse. What’s he going to tell him that’s any help?”

Pride says: “I try to keep life stress-free for Private Eye. Look after his mental health. I don’t want him stressing about anything. The easiest way to do that is by keeping him in a good routine. One he likes. He’s very familiar by now with everything he has to do. You don’t want to throw any surprises at him. Horses can stress quite easily if you take them out of their comfort zones. He’s had the same routine for four or five years now.”

Which is? Coffee and papers in the morning? Yoga and meditation? “A swim twice a day,” Pride says. “Plenty of walking. Obviously the work with his rider is important. But I actually don’t train him too hard. They’re all creatures of habit. A good routine gives him a level of comfort that keeps him relaxed. He’s confident in himself because he knows how everything works around here. He knows all our routines, he knows which horses are taken out first in the morning, he’s got the whole place suss’d. He knows everything that will happen here, and when. Therein lies the good mental health of the horse. He’s relaxed about his life.”

I could swear Private Eye is about to give a thumbs up and say, too true. “A lot of things people try to do for horses, we do them because it’s what a human would like,” Pride says. “But horses are different. You can see here how closely they’re living together. If the boxes were twice the size, and the horses were further apart, you’d think, ‘Oh, that’s great.’ As if they like their space as much as we do. These are herd animals. They’re intimate and want to be close to one another. You might think horses would rather be roaming in the paddock all day, but they don’t want to be out there with the flies. They’re domesticated. They enjoy being looked after. They’re like your spoiled pet dog. They enjoy that side of it.”

Coach Joe

Pride likens horse training to coaching an NRL side. “I probably make that crossover because I’m a rugby league fan. But I see a lot of similarities,” he says. “The preparation that goes into getting your athlete ready. Look after them physically and mentally. We’re so results-driven, too. It’s all about the Ws and Ls. There’s not much in between. And we can get the sack as quickly as league coaches. The trainer is the first one to get blamed for losses. It’s a lot easier for an owner to sack his trainer than for a trainer to sack his horse.”

Footy coaching revolves around man-management. Knowing which buttons to push. Which to leave alone. “Sure, sure, and it’s the same with horse management,” Pride says. “How can I get the best out of the horse? By knowing him as well as possible. Understanding him. Knowing when he’s having a good day. Knowing when he’s having a bad day. Knowing I can push him on the good days. Backing off on his bad days. That’s no different to handling any other athlete. These horses can be just as temperamental. Delicate. The ego is there, and you have to stroke the ego a little bit. There’s plenty of that but thankfully with horses, as opposed to rugby league players, we don’t have to deal with their girlfriends. They’re all single. That makes my life a lot easier.”

Joe Pride’s Think About It, left, beating I Wish I Win, nose roll, and fellow Pride stablemate Private Eye into third in last year’s Everest at Royal Randwick.

‘Explosion in him’

Pride on his joy: “He’s just a beautiful horse to be around. He’s very calm but at the same time, he’s got an explosion in him. That bit of desire. There’s moments when you just know he’s feeling good.” Feeling good, how? Like in the Nina Simone song? Birds flying high, they know how Private Eye feels? The sun in the sky? The breeze driftin’ on by? They all know how Private Eye feels?

“He can be casually walking along beside you and the next minute, he’s four feet off the ground and jumping out of his skin,” Pride says. “There’s absolutely no malice in him. I’m big on the personalities of horses and I just love this horse’s company. He’s the sort of bloke you want on your side.”

I could swear Private Eye goes aw, shucks, right back at you, mate. His chin goes back on Pride’s shoulder. “I don’t take any of this for granted,” the trainer says. “I know I’ve got a pretty special job. I see some of the stuff other people have to deal with in the workplace. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t always happy days. It’s a stressful job. But a horse like this one makes it better.”

The haters

Private Eye won’t say a word. Which means Pride has to do the talking. As all trainers do. They’re the faces of the sport, the spokespeople of the industry, the PR machines, forever asked for comment and insight. Which must be rather draining.

“I’ve been doing it long enough for that side to stop being stressful,” Pride says. “But the social media part has become interesting. I find myself giving opinions on there a bit. There’s people out there, what do we call them? The haters. No matter what, the haters are going to be negative, but every now and then I’m silly enough to get sucked into a conversation with one of those guys. I’m trying to stay out of it but I like being honest about my horses.

“I think it’s important to share your opinion. If everyone gave the same dull comments and cliches without saying what they really think – I just think the world is better for people having an opinion. And I don’t mind giving mine.”

Difference

Confession? Pride thought Private Eye would win last year’s Everest. “I was leaning towards this bloke,” he says. “He just had a torrid run, no luck, he sat out deep. There’s never been much between these two so it wasn’t much of a surprise, but I probably did expect Private Eye to be the one. He drew a bad barrier. Think About It drew a good barrier and that was probably the difference between them in the end.”

This year? “I don’t feel the field is as strong as last year. There’s quite a few horses who, at this stage, haven’t performed at the level they need to win. They’ve got to come up to that mark. Maybe one or two of them will. If they don’t, the older horses like my bloke, I Wish I Win and Bella Nipotina will fight it out.”

Joe Pride, the trainer with the hustler’s name, is The Everest’s defending champ. Picture: NCA Newswire/Monique Harmer

Creature of habit

I spent a little time with Pride before he won The Everest. Now I’ve spent a little time with Pride after he won the Everest. He hasn’t changed a bit. Still a knockabout. Still a ripper. Still a good fella. Still hustling. Still talking a million miles an hour. Still rolling his eyes at the stray, blow-in, puffed-up white cat trying to bludge a free feed at his stables. He’s nearly as much of a creature of habit as Private Eye – takes one to know one – which is why nothing has really changed since he orchestrated last year’s 67-second, $9 million bank heist.

“I live a funny sort of life,” Pride says. ‘I don’t go on many holidays and I don’t really spend much money. I’ve sort of got the comforts around me that I like. I’m at work most of the time anyway, so the money side of it – look, I’m not blind to it. The security side of it is obviously great. Close to a million dollars last year for one race – again, it’s life-changing money. But I’m glad for my family more than myself. For my wife, Kylie. We have a young family.

“The money is important and it’s definitely not lost on me. But personally, it’s not a big component of it. Honestly. It’s the ticking of the box. Winning the big race. The recognition. If money is your motivation, I think you’re missing out on the real experience. You’re proud of the accomplishment. And you’re very bloody proud of your horse.”