'You struggle in this game - so a Derby horse like Pyledriver means the world'

To have a serious Derby horse every year is the kind of privilege that must satisfy a trainer no end. To have one serious Derby horse in a lifetime, meanwhile, is a gift from the gods, the like of which is trotted down from the top of Mount Olympus only in fits of extreme generosity.

To be sent such a horse and be allowed to keep it until the Derby – without having it snatched away as a cruel test of man's resilience to the trials of fate – is the ultimate for a seasoned professional like William Muir, which explains his display of jubilation that lit up a sparsely populated and undemonstrative Ascot last month.

Pyledriver – this blessing from on high – was in the process of wresting the King Edward VII Stakes from the grasp of racing's superpowers, and the Lambourn trainer was on the move, weighing up his fluctuating chances of success even as he scooted across the lawn in search of a closer vantage point from which to savour the moment. It was a race that meant a lot to an occasional visitor to the sport's loftiest peaks, and he was going to embrace it, win or lose.