It was the sound of history in the making.

As Best Mate strode majestically into the winner's enclosure a roar reverberated around Cheltenham to send a tingle up the spine and set the hairs on end.

It was the sort of sound which indicated the presence of sporting greatness.

Jockey Jim Culloty punched the air three times, gave a two-fingered Churchillian victory salute and dismounted to receive another rousing cheer after guiding Best Mate to his third consecutive Gold Cup triumph.

And the debate immediately began.

Is Best Mate the best that ever lived? Or is he just the best since Arkle won his three successive Gold Cups back when Harold Wilson was Prime Minister, the Beatles were in their pomp and Sir Alf Ramsey's boys were winning the football World Cup for England?

There will never be a definitive answer. You can't accurately compare the champions of different eras, though the affection in which Arkle was held and the stirring memories he invokes even now is a fair barometer of his greatness. Today, however, on a chill, windswept afternoon, it didn't really matter.

Because no-one, save those with hearts of stone, could fail to have been moved by the courage and honesty of the nine-year-old bay gelding called Best Mate and the superb horsemanship of his rider.

In a month which has seen horse racing shrouded in a cloud of suspicion and uncertainty it was the perfect riposte - a blow for the sport at its most supreme.

There are few more thrilling sights in the whole of sport than the thunder of hooves and the urgent bob of a champion thoroughbred scrapping for his reputation - and there is no doubt Best Mate was forced to fight like a bare-fisted streetfighter this afternoon against the backdrop of Cleeve Hill as he held off, by a mere half-length, the fast-finishing Sir Rembrandt with the feisty Harbour Pilot third.

No horse and rider going through the motions here. No talk of jockeys 'stopping' horses this afternoon, no chance of jockeys deliberately jumping from their mounts.

This was a true no-holds-barred contest. Indeed, for a moment as the 10-strong field turned into the back straight with the pack closing tight around the champion to such an extent that Paul Carberry on Harbour Pilot almost barged him into the rails it was the equine equivalent of Muhammad Ali v Joe Frazier - two heavyweights slugging fetlock to fetlock.

Half an hour later Culotty's long gasp told the story.

"I'm relieved, very relieved," he said. "Best Mate has got all the class and ability but he showed guts and bottle today as well. People were thinking we just had to turn up to take the Gold Cup. Beforehand people were talking about making history. But you talk about history when it is history."

Three Gold Cups certainly ensures a place in the record books for Culloty, who wore a permanent grin, partly down to the fact that he could hardly believe his luck.

They say the Irish have more than most but when, like Culloty, you hail from a family of accountants in Killarney you can hardly expect the kudos and thrills attached to winning one Gold Cup, let alone three.

But, in the true tradition of sporting excellence, Best Mate's triumph was a true team event.

From the shrewd policy of trainer Henrietta Knight, who has insisted on rationing his performances and who watched the race in a state of almost frozen petrification, to the bluff determination and experience of her husband Terry Biddlecombe - a Gold Cup winner himself on Woodland Venture in 1967.

To the sheer belief of owner Jim Lewis, a lifelong Aston Villa fan and whose horse runs in colours based on the shirt worn by the team in their triumphant FA Cup final against Manchester United's Busby Babes in 1957.

Oh how Lewis revelled in his triumph - so excited that he turned the wrong way as he went up to receive the Gold Cup from Princess Anne but once he had it there was no way he was letting go.

He held it up to the brooding skies with both hands and began singing 'Best Mate...Best Mate...Best Mate' to the tune of 'Amazing Grace.' The crowd took the cue and it was a fitting anthem. Knight was more reserved: "I just feel absolutely drained with the tension," she said. "It's a huge, huge relief."

She was not slow, however, to contradict the belief of Lewis, who with champagne in hand insisted Best Mate should go to Punchestown next month. "What have we got to prove," she said. "Arkle was a great horse and Best Mate is a very good horse, he's the best there is."

Lewis just pays the bills. Knight makes the decisions and her immediate thought was to bring back Best Mate to Cheltenham next year for a fourth consecutive tilt at history.

At nine, and with good going, there is no reason why 'Matey' might not make it five or even six, though that would be greedy.

Today he had already done more than his bit.

Not only had he broken something of a jinx at this year's Festival, considering Rooster Booster, Moscow Flyer and Baracouda, all reigning champions, had returned and failed to defend their titles.

Not only had he brought the biggest roar to Cheltenham for many a year.

He had provided racing's redemption.

For that, regardless of the Arkle debate, he has a fair claim to be simply the Best.