If you’re horse mad or merely an every-four-years Olympic fan, you already know Nick Skelton’s story. Equestrianism can favour mature competitors, but Skelton was twice the age of his rivals. He'd survived numerous injuries – including a broken neck – by the time he propelled Britain to showjumping gold in 2012. Fifty-four at the London games, he wasn’t done. Both he and his horse Big Star returned to the Olympics four years later to win the individual gold medal.
In a handsomely mounted but unrevealing documentary, Big Star: The Nick Skelton Story, admirers from inside and out of the sport celebrate Skelton’s many comebacks – and Big Star’s, too. (The horse suffered serious injury between gold medals wins.)
Friends and colleagues speak glowingly of Skelton, who is reticent about his lifetime of high achievement. Only when he recalls the horrible accident that could have killed him does he seem to flinch. "Don't take my helmet off", he recalls telling paramedics. "I think my head's going to fall off."
What drove Skelton to get back on a horse? “I loved riding", he says. “That’s all I knew and all I ever wanted to do.”
He is not exaggerating. He first rode a horse at the age of 18 months. In home movie footage, he’s seen at pre-school age, charging around backyards and gymkhanas aboard a pony ”best friend” called Oxo. (In one priceless snapshot, young Skelton, costumed as Ivanhoe, makes a convincing boy-knight.)
Born in Warwickshire, the son of a chemist-farmer, Skelton preferred farm life to studies and left school at 15 to work for hard-driving trainer Ted Edgar (“a bastard,” says a friend).
For £7 a week, Skelton rode, competed, and cleaned lorries – an apprenticeship that ended in his early twenties when, eager to marry fellow equestrian Sarah Edwards, he realised that he was handing over most of his prize money to his boss.
That was in the early Eighties when show jumping was a television mainstay, a glamour sport with mainstream appeal. The private lives of Skelton and his teammates became fodder for tabloids.
Though director Sarah George lets a few commentators hint mischievously at the show circuit’s reputation for boozy after-parties, the documentary does not dwell on Jilly Cooperisms – or even Skelton’s improbable physical journey back to fitness.
It’s left to his support base to illustrate his determination and the bond between man and horse. As one US team member says, “As much as your teammate, your horse is your co-pilot. You cannot communicate with words, so you communicate by feel and building trust.”
For his part, Skelton says his strength is being "with the horse", acting as a protective guide and not getting in the animal's way. That philosophy carried him far, especially with Big Star, who retired in tandem with his rider. Skelton's post-competition career as a coach seems destined for greatness: he's already trained two Olympic medalists. Oddly, the film doesn't mention the details of Big Star's life nowadays. The horse has sired mored than 600 offspring, and a Big Star baby will set you back anywhere from £50,000 to £100,000.
