Master and commander

Imperial Commander was brilliant then. Kauto’s fall happened because he was taken out of his comfort zone and every other rival barely saw the Commander gallop clear. For the first time in almost 30 years in the business, Twiston-Davies was the main man at the Festival, whisked off to the press marquee now reserved for those who win the biggest prizes. As the trainer spoke, he watched a television set and saw his son Sam, then aged 17, ride a beautiful race to win the Foxhunter Chase on Baby Run. Thirty-five minutes earlier, Twiston-Davies had been screaming like a desperate punter as Imperial Commander surged on and now he experienced something that meant even more.

But you warm to him not just because he was the underdog who for a day became the top dog. About him there is a vulnerability you don’t often see in those who achieve success and it is endearing. He had always wanted to farm but the money he borrowed as a young man to buy a 400-acre place crippled him financially, forcing him to sell 300 acres and leaving him with just enough to begin training.

His first great success came when Earth Summit won the 1998 Grand National. Even then, his moment took a turn that would become almost as newsworthy as the win. The BBC’s Desmond Lynam placed his microphone in front of Twiston-Davies. Unused to the limelight, he joked: “I don’t do interviews.” Nonplussed, Lynam turned his mike to a more willing subject.

“I was uncomfortable because over the years I’d noticed fellow trainers make a pig’s ear of it. I didn’t want to look like another idiot but I was more than happy to talk to Des. I’d just won my first National, all was good. And when I said, ‘I don’t do interviews’, I was laughing. He just didn’t understand my humour, I think.”

Four years later, “with a debt bigger than Argentina’s”, he was ready to quit racing, return to a small farm in Herefordshire and raise livestock.

Then his horse Bindaree went and won the 2002 Grand National. That victory, and plenty of persuasion from loyal owners, turned him back to training.

Getting thoroughbreds ready to win is what he’s good at but he has never allowed himself to see it that simply. The travails are written in his eyes and in the reticence when you probe beneath the vulnerability.

He was born in Crickhowell, near Abergavenny, and came from that slice of society that send their offspring to boarding school as soon as is deemed practical.

I went to school first in Hereford and later I went to a bloody posh school, Radley. I hated it. I didn’t like schools, didn’t like boarding, and I didn’t want to be away from home. Once, my parents dropped me off, this was at the prep school, and I nipped back into the car and hid under the back seat. I was discovered and they said if I did it again, they wouldn’t come and visit me. That was the end of that.”

Radley, surely, conferred some benefits? “Well, I would never send a child of mine away. Both my boys went to the comprehensive down the road.” And then he stops, smiles softly and adds: “I couldn’t have afforded to send them to a smart school.”

With an older brother, the family farm wasn’t an option and after A-levels at Radley he dreamt of being a jockey and worked for one trainer and then another. He rode well but was too heavy and in his early 20s he accepted he wouldn’t make it as a jockey and bought the farm where he now trains.

“It was 1981, there was a recession, interest rates spiralled and I couldn’t afford the repayments. I’d always kept a few horses and done well. After the sale of the land, I got a full licence to train and we had a lot of success. Horses like Tipping Tim, Young Hustler, Captain Dibble, Gaelstrom, Arctic Kinsman, it was wonderful.”

He and the former champion jockey Peter Scudamore became partners in 1993 and though relatively successful, the partnership didn’t survive. “The business wasn’t big enough to keep two families. The idea was to stop training, sell everything because that was the easiest way of splitting the thing up. Then Bindaree won the National and I decided to carry on.”

To Twiston-Davies it felt like he was starting again. Quickly, he got back to where he has always been, in the top three or four trainers in Britain but mostly third or fourth. He enjoyed an excellent relationship with the jockey Carl Llewellyn, who since retirement from the saddle has become his assistant trainer.

Twiston-Davies inspires loyalty. The head lad has been with him for 18 years. “The greatest thing about Nigel,” O’Brien says, “is his sense of fairness.” The journey is never smooth and O’Brien has to be smart. “When one of the horses picks up an injury or something, I write it down and leave a note. It gives him a chance to absorb it before reacting.”

Asked about stable jockey Paddy Brennan, Twiston-Davies considers before answering. “As a character, he’s complicated. I don’t know how you describe him. He gets very down when he thinks things aren’t right, he’s absorbed in himself and what he’s doing but he is very dedicated to race riding. He is also a very good man for the big races.”

They will have more than 20 runners at Cheltenham this week, plenty of big races and according to the trainer, Imperial Commander is as well as ever. He believes Khyber Kim has a good chance of winning the Champion Hurdle and thinks Baby Run is better than last year. This time the 11-year-old hunter chaser will carry 16-year-old Willie, younger brother of Sam. The Twiston-Davies boys should be among the best riders of the next generation.

Their old man will take Cheltenham in his way, pleased to be a player at jump racing’s Olympics but wise enough to be circumspect. “You win a big race in this game and the next day you’ve got five runners at a small meeting who all finish last or something like that and you’ve got to deal with it.”