The time Varenne was interviewed on Rai – it was almost like a Jannacci song

On the phone, you can tell that my horse-story purveyor – a chap who joyfully travels the world, raving about racing reins, binoculars and cocktail hats – has tears in his eyes, and when he has to describe what Varenne means to the track, he comes out with a phrase that even blows us laymen away: “I’ve never seen a horse win at Meadowlands starting two bends wide”. A phrase which is in itself a masterpiece, even if not entirely clear, yet which hints at the full imaginative power of the horse of all horses, the trotter for the ages. Varenne won that time in New York too: the sheer number of trophies he won throughout his career confirms that the ‘Captain’ was the living embodiment of a safe bet – indeed, as they still say in the San Siro area, referring to the racecourse, he was the ‘family man’s bet’. For Varenne was, bless him, also the richest horse in history. ‘A Ferrari’, thanks to his speed combined with the beauty and elegance of his running style, ‘but with a brain’: this description by his legendary driver, Giampaolo Minnucci, also encapsulates the responsibility – far from a simple task – of having helped him achieve legendary status.

Varenne was born to race and took horse racing beyond the racecourses, earning himself enormous, unwitting popularity and a string of honours, among which a tribute bestowed by John Paul II stands out: indeed, for horse racing enthusiasts, Varenne was a four-legged deity. The only legend since Ribot, a symbol of Italian sport on the world stage, a champion on a par with Fausto Coppi, Valentino Rossi or Jannik Sinner: 72 races run, 63 won, and the remaining 24 years of his life spent basking in fame whilst siring over 5,000 foals; five of whom went on to become racehorses, though none were as fast as he was.

The author has a very vivid memory of a rather amusing visit by a now-retired Varenne to his workplace, Rai – the very same broadcaster that used to interrupt its programmes to show the races live. The historic headquarters in Milan, on Corso Sempione. It was early afternoon on a day in December, the year was 2012, and it was freezing cold. In the courtyard beneath the iconic antenna, a trailer was parked; the paving was permeated by an unmistakable smell and a mountain of horse droppings. I asked the cleaner, who muttered: “Varenne’s arrived; they’re hosting him for an interview.” I laughed and was completely taken aback; it was like a sketch by Cochi, Renato and Beppe Viola. I spent the afternoon thinking about what I would ask him, even though the real request – sweet and bewildered – was already contained in a beautiful song that Enzo Jannacci dedicated to him: “Fermati un po’ e sorridi, Varenne”. Impossible – he was too fast even there.

So I head back to my horse-racing tipster, because I sense this is a special moment; drawing on our long-standing rapport, I take the liberty of getting through to him by firing off the million-dollar question. “Can you cry over a horse?” I ask, making it clear that I’m referring to a horse in general, not just the one on which he’d staked his house and business to no avail. The reply is the best possible epitaph: “For a horse, no. For Varenne, yes.”