Grand National build-up: Father Ted

Two years later, Ruby has his first ride in a steeplechase at Punchestown. Ted stands with Enda Bolger, an old pal from their riding days, now a fellow trainer. It was Bolger who once declared that Ted had "the best racing brain of any jockey, amateur or professional, I ever rode against". But not even he would ever have accused Ted of being a great stylist. This boy of his, though. Look at the way Ruby is popping his horse away on the inside. There is more intuition than tuition here. Bolger turns to his friend. "He has it, Ted."

Four years pass. Ted is standing on a chair in a hospitality box at Aintree. J P McManus has let him bring Betty Moran, the septuagenarian owner of Papillon, up for a better vantage of the Grand National. JP has three runners himself, and few in his party notice how well Papillon is jumping for Ruby. But JP's racing manager, Frank Berry, has known Ted since they were 14, they have been all over the world together. As the field jumps Becher's second time, well strung out now, Berry turns to Ted. He smiles, raises a thumb. He says nothing. There is no need. Ruby has it – he has the National won. He is 20, and about to win the world's most famous steeplechase on a horse trained by his own father.

Nine years later, Ted stands up in the sitting room of his immaculate bungalow just off the Dublin-Naas highway. He holds imaginary binoculars in front of his eyes, and shakes them convulsively. "I couldn't hold the glasses," he remembers. "He was absolutely hacking. Could he really be going so well? It was so tense, just waiting for it to unfold. Because I'd rather be third than second."

Ted and his wife, Helen, dashed down to greet the winner. The other children had all made the trip. Jennifer, Katie, young Ted – being young and innocent, they had all expected this. They had even made plans to stop the fellow in the trilby, the one who always sidled out of the crowd to grab the reins and lead in the winner. Young Ted, built more along the lines of a prop forward than a jockey, picked him out – and laid him out. They converged on the winner's enclosure. There were hugs, tears and, for once, very few words.

It is notoriously infrequent that Ted Walsh finds himself speechless. But it is just as rare, in a sport saturated with opinion, to find a man whose every syllable merits attention. For even the peevish minority vexed by all his chat must acknowledge Ted as one of the most significant horsemen of his generation. Never mind that he has fathered one of the great jockeys in history. Never mind that he was himself 11 times champion amateur. The real clue is his career as a trainer – winning so many big races, when he has never had more than 20 horses in his care.

Tomorrow, 10 days short of his 59th birthday, Ted returns to Aintree with a horse named Southern Vic. This time, Ruby will be riding against him. Ideally Southern Vic needs softer ground, and Ruby is also wanted by the two champion trainers – Paul Nicholls in Britain, Willie Mullins in Ireland – who shared his unprecedented haul of seven winners at the Cheltenham Festival last month. Since Papillon, Ruby has won Mullins the National on Hedgehunter, and now hopes to do the same for Nicholls on My Will.

In his own days in the saddle, Ted was very strong, a grafter, and he thought about what he was doing. "I was brave," he says. "And fit as a fiddle. But I wasn't easy on the eye." Even so, he regrets he never tried his luck as a professional. "Waste of time, being an amateur," he scoffs. "I rode in one National. Never rode in the Gold Cup. Champion amateur? Feckin' four winners in my life at Cheltenham. Ruby [nearly] rode them in one day. Maybe I wouldn't have made the grade, but I regret not having a cut at it. The people closest to me probably said: 'Ooh, it's a very precarious profession, if you don't make it, what you gonna do?' But if you don't make it, feckit, do something else. You might have made it. You don't know, until you jump into the pool. I wouldn't have drowned."

Certainly, he knew what to say when Ruby came to him with the same dilemma. None of the children had ever been forced one way or another. Whatever promised them fulfilment was fine with Ted and Helen. That was the way they raised their children. One day Ted bumped into a fellow who owed him money. He had given up on ever seeing the dough, but the man said: "Here, Ted, I owe you money. I have it here."

Ted went home, marvelling. "Helen, you'll never believe it. That man has come up with the money. You know what we're going to do? We're going to Disneyland. We'll go on Saturday. But don't tell the kids."

Helen bought six tickets to Florida, sorted out the passports. On Friday evening, the family was seated around the television, watching the Lotto draw.

"Here," said Ted. "What would you do if you won the Lotto?"

Young Ted jumped up. "I'd go to Disneyland!"

"Right. We'll go."

"Did we win the Lotto?"

"No, we didn't win the Lotto."

"When are we going so?"

"We're going in the morning."

Rapture all round. Is it any wonder Ruby became an extempore jockey, one who dares to let the fence come to him?

"We've always been spur-of-the-moment," Ted shrugs. "I don't plan anything. I've been very lucky. Good health. Met a good woman. We've had a great life. I suppose my parents, when I was on about turning professional, were looking at lads that got broke up and banjaxed. And there's days when you sit here, looking at the television, and you're watching the ambulance coming slowly from the back of the third last, and he's in it, and you're not sure whether he's going to get out of it ever again. You collect him from the airport, and he's in tatters. We were in Czechoslovakia early on and he broke his leg. And you think: 'Jesus Christ he's 19, could he not have been a cook or something?'

"But then when you see him riding seven winners at Cheltenham, and winning the Gold Cup, you think: 'Sure, it's all worth it.' Look, the first day you see your kid flying around on a bicycle, it's all great fun. And then some day he catches a kerb and hocks his head off and you come in and say: 'That hoor of a bike, why did I let him go off on that?'"

Ted gives an expressive bark of laughter. He is proud of his children, and vice versa. Ruby and his siblings know the value of their genes. They might not have won the Lotto, but they unquestionably drew a good prize in the greatest sweepstake of all.

Like father like son: A thoroughbred family

Ted Walsh

* Born 14 April, 1950.

* Champion amateur jockey of Ireland 11 times.

* Rode four Cheltenham Festival winners – including the 1979 Champion Chase on Hilly Way, and his last ever ride, Attitude Adjuster in the 1986 Foxhunters' Chase.

* As a trainer won 2000 Grand National with Papillon; the Irish National and Triumph Hurdle with Commanche Court, who also finished a close second to Best Mate in the Gold Cup; and several top chases with Rince Ri.

* Made debut as RTE racing analyst in 1983 and his forthright opinions on Irish racing are often sought by Channel 4.

* Married to Helen, with four children: Jennifer is Ruby's agent; Katie is a successful amateur rider; and Ted Jnr works in Dublin for Setanta Sports.

Ruby Walsh

* Born 14 May, 1979.

* Twice champion amateur jockey of Ireland.

* Champion jockey of Ireland six times.

* Two Grand National wins: Papillon (2000) and Hedgehunter (2005)

* Twenty-four Cheltenham Festival winners – a record seven this year, including his second Gold Cup on Kauto Star.

* In 2004-05 won the English, Irish and Welsh Nationals, and was beaten in a photo in the Scottish version.

* Had his spleen removed after a fall at Cheltenham last November but was back in the saddle within four weeks.

* Married Gillian in 2006.