Gifford prepared for test of faith

Josh Gifford appears, a mischievous grin on his craggy face. "John Gosden's just been on the telly, says Manton is underwater. Manton's just next to Badminton, isn't it?" And off he trots, suitably chastised by his daughter, who is just explaining the significance of the equestrian world's equivalent of Wimbledon. "Thanks, dad," she replies, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

Given relief from the recent monsoon, Tina Gifford will roll the wagons north this week, bearing her faithful old General Jock and the debutant The Solicitor to a rendezvous with the most demanding week on the eventing calendar. "The height of the fences, the technicality of the course, the crowds, the prestige, everything puts Badminton into a league of its own," says Gifford. To prove it, her heart will beat faster just driving through Badminton village and, four days later, her stomach will churn at the smell of fried breakfasts wafting over the parkland on the morning of the cross-country discipline. "It's horrible," Gifford says of the night before. "You don't sleep much. And it gets worse the older you get."

Gifford is 29 now, a European champion, and success is a matter of expectation rather than sanguine youth. Twice General Jock's brilliance over the cross-country course has prefaced disappointment in the showjumping ring on the final day, leaving Gifford's credits nigglingly respectable. A fifth, a seventh, a 10th. There or thereabouts, she says. Close enough to make luck a decisive factor.

This year, there will be added pressures. Selection for the Sydney Olympics is the ultimate goal for the season, acutely so for Gifford, who was a near-certainty for the British team in Atlanta before both her horses went lame.

Yet for a sport brought to the verge of emotional paralysis by the deaths of five riders last season, a return to blessed normality is the chief craving.

Another tragedy this week would not just revive raw memories but pitch the close-knit world of eventing back into unwanted realms of public examination. As a senior rider, Gifford feels the responsibility as keenly as anyone. Like others, she reeled at the loss of so many friends so suddenly, people you said "See yer" to one moment who you were mourning the next. Like others, she just wanted the season to end so that she could gather in her thoughts. "They were top international riders and it did make you think: 'God, what's going on here?' But I didn't think: 'What am I doing in this sport?'

"It did make me think more about the horses I ride and the sort of horses I want to ride," she says. "Before, if someone offered me a horse to ride I'd ride it for them. Now I don't want to take those risks. I'm prepared to go out and be as committed as ever on horses I trust, but not on horses who are a bit careless or not that talented."

Gifford's robust philosophy of individual responsibility has been moulded by her upbringing, privileged in one sense, pressured in another. As if having a National Hunt legend for a father was not enough, her mother, herself a top-class showjumper and eventer, set equally high standards.

"Even if I'd had a good round, gone clear or something, she would say: 'Yes, but you could have done this better'. At the time, I used to think: 'Why can't you just say well done?' But now I really appreciate what she was doing because you must always be looking for ways to do things better." That meticulous attention to detail will shape the way Gifford tackles the cross-country course at Badminton on Saturday. She will walk the course four times beforehand until, by the time she sets off, her mind will be flicking computer-like through the options for each fence.

"Are we going at the right speed, did we jump that fence right, is the horse tiring and if so should I take this fence a bit more conservatively because I know a more difficult fence is coming up? These are the things you are thinking about the whole time and every decision has to be taken in a split second."

Being brought up in a racing yard, riding out from the age of 13 or 14, Gifford was fluent in the language of the horse by the time she first competed for her country in the junior world championships in Italy at the age of 16. "Dad left all the Pony Club stuff to mum. You can't really see him driving the horse box to gymkhanas and saying: 'Come on, darling' can you? So mum's given me the guidance, but just watching how dad got the horses fit and being around a house where you never had a spare moment, I learnt a lot."

Gifford believes education, not the short-term expedients of lessening time penalties or softening the fences, is the key to the sport's salvation.

"Three of the five who were killed were riders that a lot of people thought: 'God, you've got to slow down and have respect for the fences'. Even though they were very fast riders, you didn't expect them to pay with their lives, but people have got to think about it rather than just blaming the fences or blaming the horses or whatever. It's down to the individuals, and we've got to teach them about it when they're younger rather than waiting until they get to a level where they can say: 'Well, I've got away with it so far, why should I change?'

"It's what we were talking about earlier at Badminton, walking the course, thinking about each fence, thinking about how the horse is jumping, not purely how fast can I go, and it's so important for them to think about it now while they're jumping little jumps. It's not just a case of there's a jump, I'm just going to gallop at it and jump it. A lot more thought goes into it than that."

Last Thursday, Gifford could be found in the midst of a group of young Pony Clubbers preaching what she practises. "When I'm busy, sometimes I grumble about having to teach, but I got a lot out of Pony Club when I was growing up so I want to put something back. Besides, I need the extra cash." And she laughs at the absurdity of it. Imagine Michael Schumacher doubling up as an AA driving instructor the week before a grand prix. But this is still a world where they live in the lorry to save on hotel bills and prize money barely covers the cost of the diesel.

Gifford could name 10 potential champions this week. It will all come down to luck on the day, she says. She deserves her share. So does her sport.