Yesterday, gold medalist Victoria Pendleton raced into the history books by finishing fifth at the Foxhunters, and completed one of the more memorable sport swaps in recent years. It was certainly an achievement for Pendleton - as well as a massive earner - though the extent of the achievement seems subjective. The British media were in orgasmic form after the race, and dusted off all their superlatives. It felt, briefly, like England had the won the '66 World Cup all over again.
And I suppose it was refreshing to see a sport story that wasn't about winning or losing. A supremely talented athlete tested herself in a new sport and did herself justice.
A lot of commentators were looking at Pendelton's achievement through the lens of gender. I found it more interesting to see it through the lens of nationalism. With each passing year, Cheltenham becomes more and more of an Irish spectacle. Willie Mullins was top trainer this year. Ruby Walsh was top jockey. A horse from Trim won the Gold Cup. Its owner is the Irish millionaire who owns one of Europe's biggest low-cost airlines. The fact that the British media needed to latch on to a celebrity narrative like Pendelton's proves the extent to which Cheltenham has been conquered by Irish racing.
Admittedly, seeing Cheltenham as Ireland vs England is quite a limited perspective to take on the festival. The star of this festival does come not from these islands, but Nebraska. His name is Rich Ricci. His megabucks have transformed what Willie Mullins can do. But it's hard to see Pendletonmania as anything but a need for some new kind of story in the face of rampant Irish success.
My dominant memory of this, and indeed the last few Cheltenhams, is the sight of Walsh parading towards the victor's enclosure, triumphant. The Victoria Pendleton phenomenon is a nice distraction but next year, I expect it will be more of the same. Ruby parading on a Mullins-trained, tricolours waving in the background.
