David Dineley

Born in Newtownards, Northern Ireland, on November 1, 1953, David was an above-average apprentice for whom the sun failed to shine. His first winner was Purple Rock in the 2.30 Kempton on July 12, 1972

He was champion apprentice in 1976 with a total of 54 wins, but was never to get into double figures again.

A weight problem and the ensuing fasting left him looking pale and sickly.

Gossip about him began to circulate.

He was, said the tittle-tattle, a drunk, a drug taker and a madman.

In his defence Dineley said He says: "I've never taken an illegal drug, I've never had more than three pints in a night, and I'm certainly not mad. The things I'm supposed to have done are ludicrous and untrue. It's horrible when folks are gossiping about you and making up unkind stories that have no foundation. It was almost as if people wanted to get in on the act.

"After a while, I just had to accept it, though I could never understand why the stories happened in the first place - I'd done no harm to anyone."

What is true is that Dineley was unwell at the time, and his problems were intensified by those who ignorantly claimed he was deranged.

He was admitted to Oxford's Fair Mile psychiatric hospital, where he spent four weeks under assessment. The diagnosis was hypermania which, according to a specialist, is a not uncommon illness, responsible for mood swings and related to depression.

"Being hypermanic has nothing to do with madness," Dineley explains. "Thousands suffer from the complaint - any doctor will tell you that."

Despite this, when news of his stay in Fair Mile pulsed racing's grapevine there was, inevitably, those who came to their own petty-minded conclusions and were only too ready to voice them.

Dineley, who is articulate and worldly-wise, remains, to an extent, a victim of the stigma which surrounds those who have undergone psychiatric care.

An example of this was the period when he was absent from Lambourn for seven years; the assumption was that he had suffered a breakdown and was hidden away in some institution.

Again the truth was different. He was living in Bradley Stoke, near Bristol, spending his days caring for sons David, 7, and Neil, 5, while his partner Caroline Jones, the children's mother, worked long hours as a welfare officer for the Post Office.

Neil, born three months prematurely, required 24-hour care. He has cerebral palsy, epilepsy and lung disease.

Recently separated from Caroline, Dineley has returned to live in Lambourn, near to his other son, Philip, 18, though every few days he makes the 40-minute journey to visit his younger boys.

In hindsight, Dineley traces his health problems to his champion apprentice season, when he was riding for Cole and locked in a strict regime with the sauna to do 7st 7lb.

He remembers: "I was driven by my determination to be champion. I'd be in the sauna every day, every Saturday night, and all day Sunday. By the end of that summer, everything had got to me. I knew I was cracking up. It came to a head in the September when I rode Gavin Hunter's Kolyma. She finished second in a Chester maiden to Chain Of Reasoning, trained for the Queen by Dick Hern. In the heat of the moment, I objected to the winner.

"On the far side of the course I'd nearly been on the floor, but the camera patrols weren't as proficient as they are now, and the incident didn't show up on film. I was fined for a frivolous objection. Worse than that, I was lambasted from all sides for making the objection, and the newspapers went to town on me.

"All I wanted to do was shut myself away. My weight shot up, and three weeks later I couldn't do less than 8st 10lb.

"Though I didn't ride for the final month of the season, I beat Richard Fox for the apprentices' championship. By Christmas my weight was 9st 10lb. I went home to County Down to hide away.

"At the beginning of the next season, Mr Cole, for whom I'd worked for five years, was in touch asking me to return. How could I with my weight as it was?"

Dineley devoted himself to a fitness programme in the gymnasium and when he returned to Lambourn two years later he was able to ride at 8st 4lb.

Having forged links with a band of minor league trainers, for the next six years he earned a reasonable living, though more from the income generated by rides than a percentage from winners.

Then a disagreement with another jockey in the changing room at Lingfield triggered a sequence of events that led to the Jockey Club withdrawing his licence on medical grounds.

"That's when word spread that I'd gone mad, but that wasn't the case at all. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I wasn't a danger to anyone. From then on, life was tough at times. But I got by. I'll always get by."

While living in Bristol, he rode out for Pat Murphy's stable, and, by chance, one of the partners in the mare Limelight was David Cook, a psychiatrist.

When Dineley reapplied to the Jockey Club for his licence, he was, as he had anticipated, automatically turned down because the word 'manic' was written on his medical record.

Cook was his saving grace. Upon hearing of the Jockey Club's decision, Cook carried out a two-hour assessment. He concluded that there was no reason why Dineley should not ride in races. Dineley's own GP agreed, as did an NHS psychiatrist.

His licence was granted, and he began riding work for Doug Marks, Taffy Salaman and David Wintle.

Marks, then 77 and Lambourn's senior trainer, had remained a loyal friend over the years and promised him the ride on volatile filly Lucky Star if he could educate her to run in a straight line.

In the hours before her win under Dineley at Lingfield, the filly had done her best to wipe out the trainer's staff. Firing off with her rear legs, she double-barrelled her lad, damaging his ribs, then dragged the lad's replacement 20 metres across the Lingfield paddock.

Managing to squeeze a win out of the filly enabled Dineley to repay a debt to Marks, one of the few who visited regularly during his stay in the austere wards of Fair Mile Hospital.

Dineley remembers the trainer's visits with humour. "I was seeing Doug off the premises one night, and for a joke I gripped his arm and told him, 'Don't worry, Mr Marks, you'll be all right, they'll look after you very well in here' - a conversation overheard by a young nurse, who then wanted to escort Doug off to the secure unit.

"Poor Doug started jumping up and down and, pointing at me, screamed, 'It's not me, it's not me. He's the patient! He's the patient!'"

Caring from stanchions like Marks helped Dineley to ride out his storm.

David's interests outside racing were boxing, fishing and reading.