Rajan Bala, one of a rare kind

 Racing is drifting from a straight track

 

 

By Sharan Kumar

 

 

Horse racing in Bangalore has become as unpredictable as a weather forecast made by someone staring at the sky and guessing. Whether it’s by sheer genius or absolute lack of talent (leaning towards the latter), professionals seem to be turning the sport into a comedy of errors—though punters would argue it’s more of a tragedy. The in-and-out running of horses has become a circus act, and unless someone steps up to play the ringmaster, loyal punters will soon exit stage left, leaving the show to an audience of crickets and tumbleweeds.

 

 

Form? Out the window. Betting trends? As helpful as a broken compass. Method? Madness. It’s as if the sport has adopted chaos as its guiding principle. But don’t worry, folks—there are reasons for this decline, though they’re about as palatable as a stale sandwich.

 

 

Let’s start with the glaring spectacle of professionals cozying up to the powers that be. It’s not just rubbing elbows; it’s practically a full-on waltz. Imagine a judge who spends their evenings partying with the accused—objectivity, anyone? Apparently, the rules state that Stewards of the Club can’t bet on races, but there’s no clause about them betting on how quickly they can shred their credibility by hobnobbing with professionals.

 

 

This charming little dynamic creates a delightful paradox: some professionals enjoy immunity akin to a diplomatic passport, while others are treated like trespassers on sacred ground. Need an infraction overlooked? Just buddy up with the right people and, voilà, the magic of selective blindness kicks in. But if you’re not part of this elite social circle, prepare to be scrutinized, grilled, and possibly banished—no reason required, of course.

 

 

And let’s not forget the art of prospectus manipulation. It’s practically a new sport: committee members and even members tweaking terms and conditions to suit their preferred stables. A little favouritism here, a rule adjustment there—it’s like racing meets reality TV, where the drama takes centre stage and integrity is voted off the island.

 

 

Back in 1985, racehorse-owning members were banned from acting as Stewards because their decisions often aligned suspiciously with their wallets or the interests of their friends. Fast forward to today, and while they may not be directly calling the shots, their influence lingers like a bad aftertaste.

 

If horse racing is to regain its lost sheen, it’s time to pull the brakes on this merry-go-round of mismanagement. Objectivity must be the mantra, and a respectable distance between professionals and committee members isn’t just desirable—it’s essential. Otherwise, racing will continue its drift, and before long, it won’t be the horses losing; it’ll be the sport itself.

 

 

A Club Adrift: Officials, Cameras, and Chaos

 

 

The club’s current state of affairs brings to mind a sinking ship that’s still trying to sell cruise tickets. With a glaring shortage of Stipendiary Stewards, we’re left relying on one retired stalwart (who should be enjoying sunsets and crossword puzzles) and another who seems to have controversy on speed dial. While the retired official is undoubtedly capable—when he’s not bending like a weather vane in the Stewards’ Room—the other one appears to have confused "racing official" with "professional drama magnet."

 

 

And why, you ask, are they still around? Simple: replacements are as rare as a perfect trifecta. Good or bad, competent or clueless, you’re assured job security because if the officials themselves were scrutinized, the whole house of cards would come crashing down. It’s a classic case of “Who watches the watchmen?” Answer: absolutely no one, because we can’t afford to.

 

 

As for attracting new talent? That’s as likely as a horse sprouting wings. Apparently, officiating at the club isn’t the career of choice for today’s bright minds—shocking, I know. But hey, no worries; racing could still thrive if the TV coverage were top-notch. Sadly, watching the current broadcast feels like time-traveling to the pre-digital era, complete with grainy visuals and shaky cameras. It’s like a poorly restored black-and-white film but without the charm.

 

 

Speaking of coordination (or the lack thereof), every official runs their department as if it’s their personal kingdom. Fiefdoms abound, and collaboration is treated like a dirty word. Meanwhile, the man steering this chaotic ship—the CEO—is about as suited to the job as a jockey is to riding a bull. He’s got the unique talent of ignoring Stewards’ decisions, charting his own course, and still managing to emerge unscathed. In all my years, I’ve never seen inefficiency celebrated with such aplomb. It’s almost admirable. Almost.

 

 

 

The new committee members are, thankfully, well-meaning—though intentions alone won’t stop the sport’s downward spiral. If they want to prevent racing from becoming a parody of itself, they’ll need to make tough decisions. This includes scrutinizing the racehorse ownership profiles, tightening supervision, and putting an end to the abhorrent “in-and-out running” that’s more common than it has any right to be.

 

Racing deserves better, but unless this ship is righted, the sport might soon find itself not just adrift, but entirely off the map.