Today, I’m interviewing a jockey on my radio programme about his memoir. Being not much into horse racing, I knew next to nothing about Davy Russell until I opened his book. I’m very glad to have made his acquaintance because, in a blistering opening chapter, as well as conveying a vast amount of information about the art of riding a racehorse over jumps, he comes up with an observation about winning which applies to life as much as racing.

This chapter has him describing the first of his two consecutive Grand National wins on Tiger Roll, in 2018 and 2019. From the flag to the finish, you’re on that horse with him over every jump. It’s all breathtaking – film from a camera on his helmet with a running commentary wouldn’t convey it better – but it’s just after the fourth fence that the wisdom comes:

“Saint Are makes a bad mistake just in front of us. I didn’t expect that. We weren’t directly behind him, we were just to the right of him a little, which was lucky. We could have been into the back of him, our race could have been over. These are the little bits of luck that you need in the Grand National.”

OK, so you need a bit of luck. Which isn’t news. But then Davy qualifies this slightly:

“You don’t actually need to be lucky, you just need not to be unlucky.”

Being lucky and not being unlucky. You may already consider these two things one and the same, and good on you. But I’m not sure I did, until I saw it written down here. I’m aware this may read like an audition for Thought for the Day on Radio 4, but it’s dawned on me how much of my life I’ve spent looking for that lucky break. And, to be fair to myself, when one has come along I have always felt the urge to give thanks for it. But I haven’t spent anything like long enough feeling gratitude for – without wishing to tempt fate – a marked absence of bad luck in my life. Lesson learned. I’ll keep it in mind between now and the finishing post.