Racing community bereft after tragic death of jockey Simone Montgomerie in Darwin Cup fall Simone Montgomerie, 26, who died after falling in the Darwin Cup, left behind a five-year-old daughter. IT is the jockey's paradox. Ask them if horse racing is dangerous, they'll say extremely so. Ask them if they ever consider the risks, they'll say no. The contradiction makes some sense. It can be a brutal game, but they wouldn't want to do anything else. And no one wants to race alongside someone who expresses anything that might be construed as loss of nerve. A frightened jockey is a dangerous jockey. The risks are understood. In no other job does an ambulance shadow your every move. Yet jockeys talk tactics and horses, not personal fear. Maybe later, when they've retired, they'll reflect on it. Meantime, only the winning post matters. Simone Montgomerie, who died on Darwin Cup race day at Fannie Bay, on Monday, was like any jockey. She knew that 502 jockeys had been killed on Australian racetracks. It is a figure that journalist Les Carlyon, who has written eloquently on both Australians at war and Australian horse racing, points out is only slightly less than the number of Australians killed in Vietnam. "They're big figures," he says. And it's on the light side because a lot of the early deaths in the outback wouldn't be reported. Simone, 26, the third of four girls born to a horseracing family from South Australia, left a five-year-old daughter, Kodah, her parents and sisters, a boyfriend, Brendon Davis, who trained with and raced against her in trainer Gary Clarke's Darwin stable, and the international racing community feeling bereft. "I don't think she thought about the risks," says Simone's sister, Brooke Cupples, 30. She tried doing other things, but it kept drawing her back. It's the only thing that made her happy. She loved it so much. When you love something, you don't think about what could go wrong. She had falls but she would rather have risked her life doing something she loved. Simone's death, no matter the sadness, will not change racing. Everyone knows it's a part of the story. "It's been up and down since the accident," says Gary Clarke. The thought crosses your mind. Do I keep going? But this is what I've always wanted to do. And I'm sure if something happened to me, she would have wanted to keep going. Simone had just been crowned Darwin's premier jockey, having ridden 27 winners through 2012 and 2013. She was in Race Six, the Lightning Plate, the shortest and most blistering ride in the annual Darwin racing calendar. Everything happens fast. "The Lightning is probably the hardest 1000m race of the year," says Clarke. You need a fast, fit horse. She was in front, simply because she was on the fastest horse with the most gate speed. She had put herself a couple of lengths clear of the field. The rest had to chase her. At 150m from the winning post, Riahgrand, in its first race on the track, baulked and threw Simone. Horses travel five lengths over a second. There was no time for riders behind her to adjust. Wreaths are laid in the stables at Darwin Turf Club, in memory of Simone Montgomerie. By the time Darwin Hall of Fame jockey Paul Denton - who competed in the 2007 Fannie Bay race that left jockey Scott Leckey with serious neck injuries - passed Simone on Belcino, he assumed she'd been thrown safely clear of the pack. "You didn't think of the worst," he says. But Simone had been clipped. As Craig Moon was being interviewed after winning the race on Dreaming of Nepal, he was looking back to the track, distracted. A pall soon fell over Darwin's biggest race day as the three remaining races, including the Darwin Cup, were called off. Asked why they do it, jockeys and trainers tell the same story: horses got into their blood when they were young. Some say it's just another tough sport like boxing, but a boxer is not jostling a 500kg animal in a tight pack with 10 or 15 other 500kg animals, each with its own personality. "Walking into a stable is just like walking into a pub," says Clarke. You've got your loud person, your hyperactive person, your quiet person. You got your bullies, you got the whole lot. They're like a hunting dog. This is what they're bred for. Once they've been taught what they have to do, most of them love doing it. Like any athlete, some get more nervous than others, some just go out and do it. In a touching tribute, racegoers lay their hats on the fenceline where Simone Montgomerie fell during the Darwin Cup. Nerves are OK for a jockey; fear is not. Clarke says he would never let any jockey race if they were worrying about their own survival. "That never enters your head as a jockey," says Clarke, who raced before becoming a trainer. When that starts to happen, you should start thinking of another profession. If that was an issue, you could overreact and put your fellow riders in danger. They all know the consequences of the game. A jockey can't get to the point of riding in a race without having fallen during track work. They know they're quite capable of falling off a half-tonne animal, when they only weigh 50, 60 kilograms. This was the year when everything was finally going right for Clarke's stable. Simone was the local champion, and he was the local trainer of the year. He says there was no question Simone was in the right headspace to be racing. "She'd come out of her apprenticeship and she thought about giving riding away, because she didn't think she'd be competitive against senior riders," he says. We convinced her to keep going and she'd come from where she was to being the leading rider of the year. And same for me. This was the first year I've won the trainer's premiership. It's A battle to get up where you want to be. The only positive from the tragedy, says Clarke, is that none of the jockeys, including Simone, made a bad decision or caused any interference that might give rise to blame. "It was out of everybody's control," he says. The horse made the decision. Carolyn Rawiller books rides for her husband, Brad, currently Australia's leading jockey. "It's only something tragic like this that brings it home," she says. I certainly don't kiss Brad goodbye in the morning, saying, 'be careful' or 'good luck'. But also we now have a daughter, Cleo, so there's a bit more at stake. Rawiller chooses her rides through a small circle of trainers she trusts to have steady horses. She still studies the form guide to see if a horse has a history of playing up and will say no to any ride she considers suspect. "Horses can be flighty," she says. Some can be worse than others. If a trainer says they need a senior jockey that can control the horse, it rings alarm bells for me. But risk is not something they talk about. "We were organising his life insurance not long ago," she says. It's actually more expensive to insure Brad than it is a race car driver. I think if it was on his mind, he'd have to give it away. He says if people lose their nerve, they have to give it away. Top jockey Brad Rawiller says if jockeys lose their nerve, they have to give it away. Some jockeys talk of a rare feeling of perfection, when rhythm, certainty and oneness with the horse put the rider into "the zone." Brad Rawiller describes it this way: "Your adrenalin's running and you're at a point where you feel you could run through a brick wall." But mostly, he says, you're not thinking about such things. "You've got your game face on," he says. Once you're past the winning post, that's when the enjoyment comes into it. It helps not too think too much because thought gives rise to questions. Brett Prebble, who won last year's Melbourne Cup on Green Moon, says fear is the career - ender. "I think when that day comes, you shouldn't ride again," says Prebble. Your decisions are delayed because you're worrying about something else. Maybe some people can't see that in themselves and they don't really know when it happens. I don't think about it, but if it happened, I'd like someone to say to me, if they could see I was scared, 'Maybe you shouldn't be out there.' When you have a close call or nearly fall off, it's quite quickly forgotten. But when you see a tragedy like young Simone, you do think about it. But not in the race. It's not in your best interests. Even so, Prebble can stand back and see the perils of his business. It's a terribly dangerous game. (Jockey) Simon Mills said to me one time he went to the races packing his pyjamas, because he fell 13 times in a row. He came to work knowing he was going to hospital. Who does that for a living? This game moves at a great speed. Obviously they called the last three races off, out of respect for Simone. They couldn't keep going. But the next day we don't stop. We keep going. It is part and parcel of the game. That's the horrible thing. Les Carlyon says jockeys are these days riding on shorter stirrup leathers and racing on their toes rather than putting their feet firmly home on the stirrup iron. With a 500 gram saddle, or pad, they have little control. "If you get in trouble, you've got less scope," he says. You've got no knee grip at all. The way they're sitting up in the air, a modern jockey is more inclined to come off. If you look at the risk for the money they're making, only the top five per cent make money. The rest don't, they're shockingly underpaid. But it's done out of passion rather than rational thought. It's something they want to do. They don't draw up a balance sheet about broken legs or money. Says Paul Denton: "It's a sh*t of a job, but that's what you live for when you win the big races. In a race, you're mind's set on one thing. You can break a leg coming out the barrier but you wouldn't feel it until after the race. Simone's death hits home. I wouldn't have rode the next day, but I'm riding Sunday. It's tough when you think of her baby girl. I was saying hello to her every day. But the truth is once you get on a horse, it'll be straight out of my mind.