RWITC Keeps Tradition Alive with Media Day at Pune
By Sharan Kumar
It was “Media Day” at Pune—yes, you read that right,
the Royal Western India Turf Club actually remembered the media exists. A rare
sight, considering most turf clubs treat reporters warmly only until someone
dares to ask a question tougher than “How’s the buffet?” Newspaper coverage
remains thinner than a jockey on a crash diet, but at least a couple of
websites keep punters armed with the essentials: which horse is actually
running and which favourite is about to scamper off with their money. In a sport
where favourites rule the board, spotting the fake ones is the difference
between walking away with a smile.
The 1000 metres Racingpulse.in Trophy was about
as shocking as a politician swearing innocence. Bezan Chenoy’s Etoile, who had
come close last time, ticked every box and this time let Anthony Raj coast him
home with minimal drama. Adonis tried to stir things up but ran out of both
track and imagination, leaving Etoile to slip through along the rails and win
with ease. Mirae clung to second, while Adonis, after wandering wider settled
for third. The real punchline, though, was Maysara—mysteriously installed
favourite despite recent form that could charitably be described as
“retirement-ready.” The market soon woke up, and she dutifully played her part
as a textbook dummy favourite.
Next came the Nazak Chenoy-trained Shambala, who had
been on vacation for 188 days but returned looking like she’d spent the entire
break at a spa. With Anthony Raj again in the saddle, Shambala toyed with the
opposition. After Son Of A Gun did the early heavy lifting, Shambala coasted
past and won by seven lengths—the equine equivalent of yawning mid-sprint.
Mojito ran third, while Market King sulked in the rear, apparently allergic to
the soft ground.
In the Race Mirror Trophy, the ring witnessed
its usual soap opera. Ante-post fancy Phantasmique saw her odds drift like a
paper boat, while Merchant of Venice—running only his second career race—was
backed like he was Frankel’s half-sister. But the plot twist came courtesy of
Miracle of Hanukah and Anthony Raj (again—was anyone else even riding today?).
Miracle stormed to the front and denied Merchant by a neck, leaving punters
who’d backed the latter staring at their losing slips. Jackson picked up third,
while Phantasmique lived down to his odds, jogging in fourth as though he had
dinner reservations.
Dallas Todywalla’s Giacomo completed a hat-trick in
the Free Press Journal Trophy. Punters who thought Pesi Shroff’s Rosario
might cause trouble saw the telltale sign: A. Prakash in the saddle. Odds
drifted, punters shifted, and Sandesh had an armchair ride on Giacomo to a
runaway win. Rosario plugged on for second, while Lord And Master was third,
seven lengths behind, basically out for a jog.
The Hindu Trophy was El Moran’s redemption
tour. After a narrow miss last time, Narendra Lagad’s runner made no mistake.
Trevor Patel rode like he’d just been given cheat codes, cruising home for a
delighted ownership group. Lightning Mcqueen chased without ever threatening, while
Heaven’s Rhythm tiptoed in for third.
Then came the Indiarace.com Trophy, a race for
horses rated 1 to 26, the graveyard of favourites, otherwise known as “lowest
class chaos.” Lord Murphy carried all the money, but apprentice Aditya Waydande
parked him at the back as if testing the horse’s patience. With whips banned,
the race turned into a gentle canter. K Pranil seized the moment with We Still
Believe, who led start to finish while Lord Murphy belatedly remembered he was
supposed to run and still finished less than two lengths adrift. Arbitrage
trotted in for third, collecting enough to cover at least the corn bill. A
stern talking-to for the jockey seemed in order—but knowing how things go,
he’ll probably get a pat on the back.
The day had kicked off with the Mid-Day Trophy,
where Midnight Express, last start’s record-setter, was sent off a hot
favourite. But Esperanza clearly hadn’t read the script. She broke fast, ran
faster, and gave apprentice Ramswarup a cakewalk of a win, leaving the
favourite struggling in her wake. Cellini was third, probably wondering why he
bothered.
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