She Didn’t Win Because She’s a Woman. She Won Because She’s Ruthlessly Good

Rebecca Curtis didn’t win the Irish Grand National because she’s a woman—she won it because she’s bloody good at her job. That’s the story. And yet, that’s never the story, is it? Not when the media gets its hands on it. Too often, when a female trainer lands a big one, the coverage slides into soft focus. A pat on the back. A round of applause for managing to do the impossible. But here’s the thing—it wasn’t impossible. It was inevitable. Anyone paying real attention could see it coming.

This win wasn’t about luck. It wasn’t a fairytale. It was the result of years of hard graft, deep valleys, unglamorous rebuilding, and the kind of mental resilience that doesn’t trend on social media. Rebecca Curtis has been training at the edge of the conversation for a long time. Out of Fishguard, West Wales—not exactly a media darling postcode. No billionaire backing. No old boys’ club syndicates lining up at the door. Just a yard built from scratch, a team that’s ridden the highs and lows with her, and a woman who has stayed the course longer than most.

There were years when the winners dried up. When the owners left. When the betting slips didn’t bear her name. And still, she stayed. Still, she turned out horses that ran their hearts out. Still, she proved—again and again—that class isn't a headline, it’s a body of work. You don’t fluke your way to a Grand National win. You earn it over years, in silence, when no one’s watching and no one’s calling, and you still turn up to do the work.

So when Haiti Couleurs crossed that line, it wasn’t just a win. It was a message. To every media outlet that’s ever side-eyed the idea of female leadership in racing. To every owner who’s backed names over nuance. To every part of this sport that still treats female trainers like a subplot.

Curtis didn’t just train the winner—she out-trained the system. And now we, the media, have a responsibility not to flatten this into a “first” or a “finally.” That’s lazy storytelling. This isn’t about her being a woman. It’s about her being a trainer—a fiercely smart, strategically brilliant one who’s operated under the radar for far too long.

The truth is, as far as I can see, if Rebecca Curtis had been a man with the same CV, she'd already be a household name. She wouldn’t be framed as a comeback. She’d be framed as a stalwart. And that’s the shift the media has to make—not just louder coverage, but smarter coverage. Stop asking what this win means for women in racing and start asking what it says about the structures that buried this talent for so long. Why did it take this win for so many to remember her name?

This isn’t a diversity win. This isn’t a heartwarmer. This is a sporting achievement at the highest level. And it deserves to be treated as such. That means putting Curtis where she belongs: not in the novelty column, but in the pantheon of great modern trainers. That means interrogating how we tell these stories—who gets the top billing, who gets the nuance, who gets the repeated profile pieces, the funding, the syndicate glow, the legacy build.

It’s on us now—not just to celebrate, but to embed. Not just to spotlight, but to sustain.

The future of racing isn’t about ticking gender boxes. It’s about recognising excellence when it’s in front of us and refusing to ignore it until it crosses the finish line with a crowd behind it. Rebecca Curtis has been excellent for years. Now she’s visible. Let’s make sure she stays visible—on her own terms, in her own right, for the work she’s always done, not just the one she’s done now.

So no more soft stories. No more polite applause. Curtis has lit the bloody torch. Let’s carry it forward. Not just for her, but for every trainer grinding away outside the limelight, building brilliance without being asked to smile for the camera.

Let’s get sharper. Let’s get braver. Let’s start writing the stories that actually reflect the sport we want to build. Because if this win proved anything, it’s that talent doesn’t need a gatekeeper—it just needs a fair shot and a bit of air.

Now give her the air. And get out of her way.