THERE have been better winners of the Vodafone Oaks than Light Shift. Given that Henry Cecil’s own rollcall of eight includes fillies of the talent of Oh So Sharp, Diminuendo and Ramruma, he has been responsible for a few of them himself. But, even if she fails to win another race in her young life, a special place has been reserved for Light Shift in the affections not only of the master of Warren Place but of the whole of racing.

Understandably, the attention from the moment he stepped back into the paddock on Oaks day was reserved for the tall figure with the inexplicably deep suntan and the bemused half-smile who had dominated the race for so long. Cecil could boast a full hand of English Classics, but if his genius was to be truly measured it was to be in terms of the Oaks and Royal Ascot. Both occasions made for a natural peacock. “It is ludicrous,” he once said, “to wear pink socks if you’re a loser.” No, pink socks, like golden running shoes, are for winners. So, back in sartorial splendour, Cecil’s lanky figure bestrode the day; his speech of acceptance in the winner’s enclosure touched with emotion, his press conference laced with his mix of dry humour and self-deprecation.

Only on the final question about his health did his eyes reveal true steel. Cecil has been battling stomach cancer for a year, enduring 14 sessions of chemotherapy while trying to resurrect a career that metaphorically slipped beneath the archways at the turn of the century. “I’m going to win the battle,” he said. “We’re not losers, you know.” It was a telling riposte, a pep talk to himself as much as the enquirer. But set against the double blow, initially of the loss of so many of his traditional owner-breeders and the spiralling decline of his once dominant stable, then of ill-health, the emotions that swept across the Downs and into the small area of the winner’s enclosure, once a Cecil colony, were not so much understandable as inevitable. As Wimbledon watchers will testify, the English only really adopt a winner as they start losing. Cecil began losing with a vengeance and the unaccustomed feeling hurt him more than he would like to admit.

So, on Friday, Cecil was back in his element, his language and delivery the same in victory as in defeat, and the racing world, which can smell weakness like a wolf, truly welcomed back to the fold a much-loved leader of the pack. Cecil will accept the hypocrisy with the plaudits and treat both as just racing’s way. There was nothing phony, though, about the way Michael Hills made a particular point of shaking Cecil by the hand as he walked back to the weighing-room or the insistence with which Frankie Dettori, returning from another Epsom disappointment on Godolphin’s Measured Tempo, tugged at Cecil’s sleeve on his way through.

Central to the tableau, too, was the lady in the orange suit and dark glasses who bounced up and down like a child and went to hug everyone within range. Only Light Shift herself resisted the advances, digging her toes in to the lush Epsom turf and only being coaxed into the winner’s enclosure once her owner in the tango had safely retreated. Maria Niarchos has stayed loyal to Cecil through the leaner years and justice was done when Ted Durcan thrust the famous dark blue colours with the light blue crossbelts into the lead fully three furlongs from home.

For Durcan this must have been a moment to dream too. More experienced Epsom riders have been known to panic under the sort of pressure thrust on the 34-year-old from County Mayo. With his first Classic at his mercy, Durcan would have been aware of the mounting challenge of Martin Dwyer on Peeping Fawn, and the whole course took a deep breath and waited for the romance to end. All except Durcan, who coolly switched his whip from right hand to left to keep the filly balanced and running to the line. He knew she had something left, he said later. It was a question of finding it. Cecil made a point of crediting Durcan, thanked him, too, for his friendship and his support. “He is an underrated jockey and if we had a stable jockey, I would look no further,” said the 64-year-old. The wider public sensed a grand reawakening and cheered Cecil’s every footstep. Further battles lie ahead for Henry Cecil. The battle for his career ended in style on Friday.