The only thing known to millions of people about the sport of horse racing is the name of Lester Piggott. To the unversed, his was the name on countless betting slips in successive runnings of the Derby. To the housewives he was the darling of the turf, his bursts of petulance serving only to draw him to their hearts. To the betting shop regulars he was a source of fascination and frustration, almost in equal measures. And to racing’s professionals he was a unique talent, a precious prodigy who triumphed in spite of a series of inborn handicaps.
It was not so much in the senses nature kept from him: his inherent partial deafness and the resultant speech impediment. It was more in what nature gave him in abundance. At five feet seven-and-a-half inches, he stood a towering six inches taller than most of his contemporaries. And at eight-and-a-half stones, he somehow maintained his body weight a full 21 pounds below its natural level. And that for forty years.
