The enduring charm of the Bangalore Derby

 The Appeal That Wasn’t Filed

 

By Sharan Kumar

 

Racing has an enduring faith in process, particularly when process arrives ahead of thought. When a beaten favourite demands an explanation, judgement tends to outrun evidence. Suspensions are imposed, order is restored, and the system moves on, satisfied that action has been taken. What follows, when the horse itself later supplies the explanation, is a chapter racing prefers not to reopen.

 

The story usually begins with a mock race. A sanitised exercise, free of pressure, rivals, or consequence. No reason for the horse to betray inconvenient weaknesses such as an inability to breathe when challenged. The horse impresses, the clock nods, and expectation does the rest.

 

Race day is less forgiving.

 

Crowded and pressured, the favourite suddenly discovers the limits of its airway. The jockey adjusts, exchanging ambition for realism. The crowd does not. An enquiry is inevitable.

 

Replays are slowed. Hands are dissected. Motive is inferred, and the horse’s respiratory system, having passed its rehearsal, is granted unquestioned credibility. The stewards then compare the ride with a classic victory in which the same jockey came from last, overlooking the inconvenient detail that the classic winner had proven merit and working lungs, and conclude that what happened once must always be possible; a suspension follows, authority is asserted, and public indignation is soothed.

 

There is, of course, an appeal process.

 

But appealing requires belief. Belief that the same ecosystem that authorised the suspension will enthusiastically question it. Belief that an appeal board will risk appearing corrective rather than consistent. Belief, in short, is scarce.

 

So the appeal is not filed.

 

Weeks pass. The horse runs poorly again. And again. Eventually, a scope reveals a laryngeal abnormality, efficiently explaining why mock races flatter and competition exposes. Medical evidence arrives late, when it is no longer disruptive.

 

Nothing changes.

 

The jockey serves the suspension. The stewards retain their authority. The appeal board retains its posture. The mock race exits memory without ceremony. Only the horse carries proof.

 

Racing proceeds, reassured that while horses may gasp for air, procedures remain well oxygenated.

 

The final irony is neat and untroubled. When medical evidence later explains the performance, there is no mechanism to explain the punishment. The record stays clean, the suspension intact, and the possible error safely embalmed as precedent. Justice, it appears, requires no review, only compliance. Accuracy is negotiable. Consistency is not.

 

 

The horse in question had not raced for over a year. Its only preparatory outing was a mock race, where it appeared impressive but crucially, without pressure or race-day intensity. In its limited career, the horse had run only twice and finished more than ten lengths behind on both occasions. It was, by any reasonable assessment, a horse of unproven merit.

 

In such circumstances, the benefit of doubt ought to rest with the jockey. Stewards are expected to conduct a complete and dispassionate study before arriving at any recommendation. That is precisely why enquiries should never be conducted in the heat of the moment. Immediate action often stems from the need to be seen as acting, to placate members and the public, rather than from a calm evaluation of facts.

 

No appeal was preferred. Experience suggests that Appeal Boards are generally reluctant to overturn the decisions of the Stewards, perhaps out of institutional loyalty or external pressure. The prevailing belief is that an appeal is unlikely to succeed, particularly when the same ecosystem influences both tiers of authority.

 

Even in the Trevor Pate case, the outcome illustrated this inconsistency. Either the offence warranted a longer suspension, or it did not warrant a suspension at all. An accusation of incompetent riding is a serious charge, one that can stain a jockey’s reputation permanently. Yet there appeared to be no meaningful attempt to ascertain whether the horse was physically sound, whether it had suffered an injury, or whether there were stable-related issues that could explain its performance.

 

In India, Appeal Boards have rarely gone against the Stewards’ decisions. While some members may be immune to pressure, it would be naïve to assume that all are. The result is a system where authority is seldom questioned, errors are seldom acknowledged, and justice, at times, appears more procedural than substantive.