The enduring charm of the Bangalore Derby

 When Logic Pulls Up Lame in Racing

 

By Sharan Kumar

 

Horse racing continues to assure us that decisions are rooted in logic, process and all available evidence. The emphasis, of course, is on available. What is not sought, not checked or not asked for has a remarkable habit of never becoming relevant.

 

Which brings us, once again, to Bezalel and Fynbos, twin case studies in how what is not examined, when institutionalised, becomes policy.

 

Let us correct the record first. In both cases, the horses were not examined for any veterinary issue at the relevant time. There is no veterinary report on record for Fynbos. None. Zero. The assumption that the horse might have been checked is itself an act of misplaced faith. What we are dealing with is not selective veterinary interpretation but a complete absence of veterinary curiosity.

 

And that is where the real illogic begins.

 

When a favourite fails and an enquiry is ordered, the most basic expectation is that Stewards arm themselves with all available information. That would include, at the very least, a veterinary examination. After all, the enquiry is meant to determine why the performance did not match expectations. Was it the jockey? Was it the horse? Was it something physical, respiratory, muscular or otherwise? Or was it simply one of those days when animals decline to cooperate with human projections?

 

Apparently, these are optional questions.

 

In Bezalel’s case, the horse ran poorly, vanished for a year, returned, and ran poorly again before a laryngeal abnormality was finally detected. Jockey Sandesh argued, quite reasonably, that such a condition could have compromised the horse under race pressure. This was dismissed on the elegant administrative premise that since the abnormality was detected after the horse ran the second time, it could not possibly have existed before. Curiously, however, the very foundation of Sandesh’s suspension rested on those earlier runs, where the horse finished ten lengths behind, and on a mock race, a carefully choreographed exercise that bears little resemblance to a real contest and even less relevance when passing judgement.

 

It is important to place one fact squarely on record. Sandesh did not appeal the decision. Whether this was a matter of trust, resignation, exhaustion or advice received is not known. What followed, however, is known. He later submitted a fresh application requesting the Stewards themselves to review the matter in light of the veterinary finding. That request was rejected.

 

Racing, having once made up its mind, saw no reason to trouble itself with a second look. Revisiting implies doubt, and doubt is inconvenient when authority must appear crisp and decisive.

 

This, of course, raises the question nobody in authority wished to entertain. Why was the horse not examined after the first poor run? Or during the year-long absence? Or immediately after the second failure, before judgement was passed on the jockey? Racing prefers conclusions first and explanations later, if at all.

 

The Stewards chose certainty over investigation.

 

Now turn to Fynbos.

 

Jockey Trevor Patel was suspended for incompetent riding. No veterinary report exists. The horse was not checked. There was no attempt to ascertain whether Fynbos had an issue that day, physical or otherwise. The enquiry proceeded on the elegant assumption that if something went wrong, it must have been the human.

 

The horse then returned next time out and swamped the opposition. This inconvenient development suggested that incompetence, if any, was situational rather than inherent. Did this prompt a reassessment? Not exactly. The independent Appeal Board reduced the suspension by two days, a tacit admission that something did not quite add up, without actually articulating what.

 

So let us examine the logic on display.

 

When a favourite fails and an enquiry is ordered, horses are not necessarily examined, even though they are central to the case.

Medical issues are acknowledged only when they arrive late and can be conveniently ignored.

Jockeys are judged without the full evidentiary picture, because the picture was never completed.

 

The irony is quietly impressive. Racing claims to be data driven, yet declines to collect the most basic data when it matters. Stewards are expected to adjudicate with one eye closed and then express surprise when outcomes look contradictory.

 

Punters, meanwhile, are told to study form, patterns and precedents. Administrators demonstrate, repeatedly, that form is flexible, patterns are negotiable and precedents apply only until the next meeting.

 

In racing, enquiries are meant to find answers. But answers matter only if the right questions are asked. Veterinary questions, it seems, are best left unasked. This is not about the jockeys named here; it is about process. It is about whether due process is followed before punishments are imposed, and whether Stewards first satisfy themselves that an alleged infringement genuinely warrants punitive action. Punishment should not exist to appease public outcry or to reassure officials of their own vigilance. Justice is not theatre. Authority does not improve with frequent display.