Racing: Leading jumping horseman dies

Baggy Hillis was a regular visitor to the winning unsaddling stall.

Two or three times in the past few years colleague Dennis Ryan called from Matamata to say: "Baggy Hillis is not too good. He may be on the way out."

My reply was always: "I'll believe that when I see it in alphabetical order on the back page of the Herald. He's too tough to die - he'll outlast both of us."

Tipsters are allowed to be wrong at times and we got this one slightly askew, but only slightly - Brian (Baggy) Hillis, 77, died about 2am in Waikato Hospital yesterday.

With him died a legend.

Everyone has a Baggy Hillis story, but only those very close students of the game actually got to understand what an outstanding horseman the rough-and-ready jokester was, in the saddle and in training thoroughbreds; greats of the game like Colin Jillings, who once said he had more respect for Hillis' courage than for anyone in racing.

Taranaki trainer Allan Sharrock won Saturday's $50,000 Wealleans Tauranga Classic with hot favourite I Do. Many rate Sharrock as equal to any of New Zealand's trainers and his record in the big ones when it matters is phenomenal.

He attributes much of what he knows to Hillis.

"He was my mentor," said Sharrock on his way back to Taranaki yesterday morning. "Everyone knows Dad [Bob Sharrock] and Baggy were great mates and I spent every one of my school holidays at his Takanini stable. I learned a lot of what I know from him."

When Hillis had his mind clearly on training horses there were few better judges. When he said "go" they rarely missed.

I had an early encounter of his toughness. I was selling Rotary raffle tickets for Hillis and wife Melda and called into their house on Airfield Rd at Takanini to drop off the butts and dollars.

Hillis came into the house with a 12-inch long piece of 4 x 2 attached to his foot with a long nail joining the two and sticking out the top of his foot by a considerable margin.

With no fuss, Hillis said: "Melda, pull that off my foot, please," which you could barely watch happening.

"I'll take you to hospital," said Melda. "No, I'm off to Rotary," with which Hillis slit open the top of a shoe to accommodate the enormous swelling, wrapped the whole thing up with a length of string and headed back out the door.

They don't make 'em like that any more.

Until he retired from race riding in the 1970s, Hillis was the father and master of jumps riding in the north, just as his uncle Bill Hillis held sway in the South Island. They were definitely not stylists, but brilliant horsemen.

In his time, the Great Northern Steeplechase was not the same without Baggy Hillis and it was no surprise two of his sons, Paul and Wayne, went on to win the race as well.

The story of Hillis winning the Great Northern on Brockton carrying a broken arm has been told so many times it's become a cliche.

The real humour came after the race. Keith Haub, who called the event, had been instrumental in hiding the broken arm from all concerned and after the race dashed down to the jockeys' room to congratulate Hillis.

The thought of three times over the Ellerslie Hill and 26 jumps with a broken forearm would have sent most pale. You can't begin to imagine what it must have been like.

Haubie said something like: "What was the pain like?"

"Oh, it wasn't too bad, but it's got worse now, every bastard wants to shake my hand."

If that doesn't sum up Baggy Hillis nothing ever will.