THIS MIGHT SOUND STRANGE TO some people, but I will sleep for eight blissful hours on the night before an FA Cup Final or a World Cup tie against Brazil. Yet if I go to bed knowing one of my horses is racing the next day, I will be staring at the alarm clock at 3am and probably 4 and 5 as well. It will be a horrible, restless night.
Perhaps it comes down to control because, unlike on the football pitch, I am helpless once those stalls open and it is just the jockey and the horse. It is also a measure of how much I care about racing and my own thoroughbreds in particular. They have become one of the great passions of my life.
People have written and gossiped about my gambling for years and I will happily confirm that I love the buzz from backing a winner. They are probably less aware of how much time and energy I have dedicated to learning about the sport and the industry as a whole.
I have a thirst for knowledge and not a day goes by without me catching up on the latest news via television, the racing pages or texting one of my contacts. If I was to appear on Mastermind — not that I am volunteering — Flat racing would have to be my specialist subject. It is also likely to be my career once I have finished scoring goals.
I hope to play football at the top level for many years to come but, as it stands, I cannot see myself opting for the stresses and strains of management. You are more likely to find me in the stables than the dugout as I try to breed my own winners. I have already made a start.
Top Man T, the first foal from one of my own horses, is already a winner and we have some others coming through. The joy from breeding successful horses is incredible — I suppose you might compare it to Newcastle United winning the FA Cup with a team of Geordies — although the emotional attachment makes it far harder to make business decisions. And this is a game where sentiment costs you money.
Take Top Man T, named by Terry, my Dad,because that is what he calls himself when he does something well. Our trainer advised us to sell him, but there were plenty of tears from the girls in the family. So much so that we contacted the trainer who bought him and asked to be notified if he was going to be sold on in the future so we could have first shout.
That fondness explains why I have several horses in my stables at home living the life of Riley. Like Speciali (named after my old Umbro boots), who was my most expensive horse, ran twice and then got injured. He might have drained me of a small fortune but I can’t stand the thought of selling him, not knowing where he will end up and how he will be treated.
The trouble with that attitude is that you start accumulating horses. I have more than a dozen now but I would prefer to be a soft touch than hard-hearted.
These animals give so much pleasure, although I can’t claim to be a natural horseman. I used to ride with my sister on a Sunday years ago when there was no football, but I can’t say that I am ever 100 per cent relaxed around them. My wife, Louise, will happily dig something out of a hoof, but you will never catch me at the wrong end of half a tonne of thoroughbred.
Louise had a terrible accident a few years ago, breaking her pelvis when she was thrown, but she remains as devoted as ever and my daughter, Gemma, is showing all the signs. She loves to trot around on her own little pony and even sit on the big beasts when they are being walked out to the paddock. And she is only 2½.
A round of golf used to be my idea of the perfect day off, but flying down with my family to a big race meeting is the clear favourite these days. I managed to get to the Derby last year to see Motivator win. We had our own horse running that day and luckily it was in the first. I can’t relax until my horse has done its bit. I am a nervous wreck.
Treble Heights (bought after the Liverpool treble season) has given me my most pleasurable day at the races. The first winner, Talk to Mojo, was great, but Treble Heights had cost me a fair bit of money, £110,000 from a contact of Didi Hamann’s, and it was fantastic to get some reward and in such fine style. It was only a £4,000 maiden race, poxy in the great scheme of things, but Chester always has a big crowd and we were incredibly nervous. She was up against more experienced horses but she came round the corner still on the bridle. I will never forget those two or three seconds when we saw John Carroll shake the reins and bring her flying home seven lengths clear.
We sent her to be covered by Pivotal, one of the top stallions, and her first foal is due in a couple of months. It was a lot of money, although nothing like the £250,000 or so that the very, very best can charge. One thing you learn quickly in this business is that, however much you may earn as an international footballer, you are a pauper compared with the big boys of the racing world. Trying to clamber your way up the ladder is part of the challenge.
I have been around a few stud farms and they are fascinating places. The cleanliness is the first thing that strikes you. The best ones look like the grass has been cut with scissors. The act itself is done in almost sterile conditions.
Mick Channon has made the transition from footballer to trainer but it is the breeding side that attracts me. I am not sure I fancy being up at all hours trying to satisfy dozens of different owners. I prefer to think that, a few years from now, Louise will look after the animals while I study the form books inside.
Breeding already keeps the Owen family busy trying to work out new names. Each gets a turn and my Mum chose Private Soldier after her father. My brothers have a long list but, as you might expect from brothers, most of them are unusable.
We have Etienne Lady in the stables, named after the city where I scored that 1998 goal against Argentina, and I am hoping that this summer’s tournament in Germany will throw up a few ideas. Berlin Boy or World Cup Winner have a nice ring to them.
HOPING FOR APRIL RETURN
I LOVE MY RACING, BUT Newcastle United fans can be sure that I have plenty of ambitions left in football. The good news is that I had my plaster off at the end of last week and should be able to start my rehabilitation work any day.
The doctors seem happy with how the bone in my foot is healing and although it is too early to be making accurate forecasts, I hope to be back for at least a month of the Premiership season.
I appreciate the patience of the Newcastle fans, who, because of injury, have seen me only in bursts. I like to think that I show what I can bring to the black and white shirt whenever I play and, fingers crossed, this broken metatarsal is the last bit of bad luck for a while.
