‘I was robbed’ Kyj six Chad Schofield speaks out in shock after being fined a HUGE sum and having his licence suspended as punters demand the cancellation of ridiculous £890,000 winnings

In the high-stakes world of horse racing, where fortunes can shift in the blink of an eye, few moments capture the raw emotion and controversy like the aftermath of the Champions Mile at Flemington Racecourse. On a sun-drenched Saturday in November 2025, jockey Chad Schofield guided the promising colt Ceolwulf to a breathtaking victory, edging out a field of elite thoroughbreds in a photo-finish that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

The win was more than just a triumph; it was a career-defining moment for Schofield, a seasoned rider with a reputation for cool-headed precision. But within hours, the joy turned to dismay as stewards slapped him with a staggering $35,000 fine and an 11-meeting suspension for what they deemed careless riding and a whip rule breach. Now, as punters across the globe rage online, demanding the outright cancellation of the eye-watering £890,000 in winnings, Schofield has broken his silence with a single, gut-wrenching phrase: “I was robbed.”

The race itself was a spectacle worthy of racing’s grandest stages. Ceolwulf, trained by the meticulous Ciaron Maher and David Eustace, had been building toward this moment all season. The four-year-old gelding, sired by the legendary Frankel, entered the 1600-meter Group 1 event as a $7 outsider, overlooked amid the hype surrounding favorites like the defending champion Alligator Blood and the rising star Pride of Jenni. Schofield, a 32-year-old Hong Kong-based jockey who has racked up over 800 career wins, including a Hong Kong Derby victory, knew the stakes.

 “This horse had fire in his belly from the gates,” Schofield later recounted in an exclusive interview with Racing Post. “We were boxed in early, but Ceolwulf responded like a champion. That final furlong—it was heart-stopping.”

As the horses thundered toward the line, Ceolwulf surged ahead by a nose, clinching the $1 million prize purse and catapulting Schofield into the spotlight. Bookmakers reported a frenzy of late bets, with punters piling on Ceolwulf in the closing minutes, turning what could have been a modest payout into a windfall.

Official tallies show the horse sparking a series of exotic bets—trifectas, quinellas, and first-four combinations—that ballooned into a collective £890,000 in winnings for a syndicate of sharp-eyed gamblers, many of them UK-based punters who had spotted value in the colt’s odds. One anonymous bettor, speaking to Sky Sports Racing, described the thrill: “I’d sunk £5,000 on a each-way double, and suddenly it’s life-changing money. Ceolwulf was the key; without him, we’re nothing.”

But the euphoria evaporated almost immediately. Stewards reviewed footage from the race’s dying stages, zeroing in on a moment 200 meters from the post where Schofield appeared to drift slightly, bumping a rival mount. Coupled with what officials called “excessive use of the whip”—seven strikes in the final straight, one over the permitted limit—the infractions triggered swift penalties. The fine, equivalent to nearly £22,000, would devour a third of Schofield’s £65,000 jockey’s share from the victory. Worse still, the suspension means he’ll miss key fixtures, including the upcoming Cox Plate and Melbourne Cup Carnival jewels, sidelining him at the peak of the Australian spring season.

Schofield, speaking from his Melbourne hotel room just days after the verdict, didn’t hold back. His voice cracked with frustration as he leaned into the camera during a live stream on his X account, followed by over 50,000 racing enthusiasts. “I was robbed,” he declared, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’ve given everything to this sport—years of grind, sacrifices you wouldn’t believe. That ride was clean; the bump was incidental in a battle for the rail. And the whip? I was urging him on in the heat of it. This isn’t justice; it’s a witch hunt.” He paused, rubbing his temples, before adding, “I’ve appealed the decision, and I’ll fight it tooth and nail. But right now, it feels like they’ve stolen not just my money, but my moment.”

The backlash from the punting community has been ferocious, amplifying Schofield’s cries of injustice. Social media erupted within hours of the steward’s announcement, with hashtags like #JusticeForSchofield and #CancelThePayout trending worldwide. Forums on Punters.com.au and Betfair’s racing hub are ablaze with demands for the winnings to be voided entirely. “If the ride was careless, the result’s tainted,” thundered one high-roller from Sydney, who claimed a £150,000 slice of the pot. “These bookies are laughing all the way to the bank while we get screwed. Cancel it—full stop.” Petitions have garnered over 10,000 signatures in under 48 hours, urging Racing Victoria to revisit the race’s integrity. Tabcorp, the event’s primary wagering partner, has faced boycott calls, with some punters vowing to pull their accounts unless the payouts are clawed back.

Critics of the uproar argue it’s overblown. Racing integrity experts, like former steward Ray Murrihy, point out that such penalties are par for the course in a sport governed by razor-thin margins. “The rules exist to protect the level playing field,” Murrihy told ABC Radio. “Schofield’s a top operator, but errors happen.

The fine hurts, sure, but it’s not the end of the world.” Yet even neutral observers acknowledge the anomaly: the £890,000 figure, derived from a confluence of late-money surges and high-odds exotics, has made this more than a routine bust. It’s a lightning rod for broader discontent over Australia’s stringent whip regulations, introduced in 2020 to curb animal welfare concerns but often decried by jockeys as overly punitive.

As the appeals process unfolds—expected to wrap by mid-December—Schofield remains defiant. He’s already plotting a comeback, hinting at lucrative rides in Hong Kong’s International Races come December. “This suspension? It’s fuel,” he says. “I’ll be back stronger, proving the doubters wrong.” For the punters holding their breath over those winnings, the wait is agonizing. Will the bookies pay out, or will stewards’ ink rewrite their fortunes? In racing, as Schofield knows all too well, the finish line is never truly final.

The saga underscores the fragile alchemy of horse racing: where split-second decisions forge legends or shatter dreams. Ceolwulf, grazing contentedly in his stable, seems oblivious to the storm. But for Schofield and his army of supporters, the fight is just beginning. In a sport built on odds, the biggest gamble might be trusting the system to get it right.