Jockey Fallon's rollercoaster ride

Kieren Fallon's rise from humble roots in Ireland to recognition as perhaps the greatest jockey on the globe has been one of sport's - let alone racing's - most remarkable stories. Pure box office.

His acquittal in the race-fixing trial at the Old Bailey is the latest chapter.

The 'uneducated' (his description) plasterer's son from County Clare, who had once balanced precariously on the back of the family's pony, came to define brains, confidence and precision in the saddle of thoroughbreds the world over.

His CV positively overflowed, in the caricatured manner of champagne flutes at Royal Ascot.

Quietly spoken he may be, but Fallon positively shrieked his domination, with six champion jockey titles in Britain and seasonal scores of 200-plus winners four times, totals that included victory in three Epsom Derbys.

Whether it be in Classic or international races, working for champion trainers like Henry Cecil and Sir Michael Stoute, or the lowliest prize at Catterick, Fallon was the man to do the business.

He earned the nickname 'the assassin' by getting the job done quickly, quietly and effectively, and then going on his way.

Dark, serious and brooding, with the suspicion of a scar on his face, he even looked the part, the very opposite of bubbly arch rival Frankie Dettori.

"It's outwitting the other bastards (jockeys) that gives you the buzz," he once said.

It seemed that with a rare brilliance in the saddle, wealth and fame, he had everything, but there was always another side to Kieren Fallon.

Even the Irish rider's most ardent fans had to concede that within their man's make-up was also an uncommon talent for finding trouble - all kinds of trouble - though none of it related to his appearance in court 12 at the Old Bailey.

There was the six-month ban imposed for furiously dragging another jockey from his horse at Beverley, and a �400 fine that followed a swearing tirade against an official at Pontefract.

Those were just two headline grabbers sandwiched between literally dozens of other 'bad boy' incidents: the assassin didn't miss many important targets but was always in danger of exploding himself.

In reflective mood, some years later, he said: "I was young and wild. When things didn't go right for me, I got annoyed.

"I have mellowed. When I was a kid, I didn't know what I was about and I had no regard for authority, but I learnt to bottle it up."

In truth, Fallon had been forced to grow up.

In 1998, amidst plenty of gossip and rumour - the meat and drink of horse racing - the jockey won a high-profile libel action against the now defunct Sporting Life newspaper over accusations about his controversial riding of a horse called Top Cees at Newmarket.

And a year later, Fallon, then married to ex-jockey Julie Bowker, became a star of the nation's gossip columns.

Source: BBC Sport