This Side Up: Would this Really Be Such a Stupid Gamble?

“Now why did I do that?” For some of us, the more painful that question becomes, the easier the answer. It'll be right there in that empty bottle, greeting you on the table in the morning.

For those of you whose conduct has more complex influences, however, apparently there's a handy publication out there called The Journal of Behavioral Decision Making. And you thought horse pedigrees were a niche interest.

In a recent edition, researchers from the universities of East Finland and Liverpool crunched data from 15,000 Finnish men commencing national service. I hope we will be indulged for cutting to the chase, as they conveniently reduce all their analysis to a couple of sentences of conclusion.

“This paper,” they declare, “demonstrates that a person's IQ predicts his engagement with horse betting.”

Now you know where this is going, right? It's another example of wasting a lot of time and effort to demonstrate something we know to be quite obvious already.

But wait. “Our results show that IQ… is positively correlated with participation in and expenditure on horse betting.” In other the words, the smarter your Finn, the more likely he is to bet the ponies. The puzzles of horse racing, the researchers suggest, will appeal most to a sophisticated, inquiring mind.

Just think of all those generations of stern parents who have sat down errant sons (the survey did not include females) to rebuke their dissipation on the racetrack. Turns out that they should actually have been instructing them in exotics strategy, and how to turn Ragozins to riches. Go west, young man, but be sure you don't miss Arapahoe Park on the way.

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For many of us, a stake in the breeding, raising or trading of Thoroughbreds is gamble enough. But it is good to be reminded of the stimulation available in the constant variables of our business, and to consider the different factors that govern our decisions.

To what extent, after all, are those decisions truly our own? How much do we act according to our innate or inherited nature–the stuff, in other words that we bring into the world with us–and how much are we simply conditioned by learned experience; by patterns of conduct absorbed from the environment?

Why is it, for instance, that modern horsemen are so much more reluctant to ask questions of the Thoroughbred as demanding as those routinely set by their predecessors? Trainers today may think that they are simply making a rational judgement on a developing body of evidence; whether because they view the breed as less robust, or their own methods as more sensitive. But the chances are that they have, to a large degree, simply responded to the evolving habits of mentors and peers.

Take, for instance, nothing less than the two best horses in the world. One is set to bow out at Ascot on Saturday; the other will quite possibly do the same at Keeneland in three weeks' time. Both, it should be stressed, have had their talent drawn out with consummate skill. But while both are routinely compared with specters past, they won't actually explore their utmost capacities even against such horses as happen to be alive and well.

Okay, so the fact that they operate in different disciplines means that a direct showdown between Baaeed (GB) (Sea The Stars {Ire}) and Flightline (Tapit) would nearly always, even in bolder epochs, have been a bridge too far. But the fact is that Flightline has entered the pantheon in no more than 431 seconds; while Baaeed, though slower to blossom than Frankel (GB), has like that champion been confined to home soil and a pool of competition in which his supremacy has long been apparent.

To be fair, Flightline has tested the cramped parameters of his career with as much ambition as they permit: from Del Mar to Belmont, from six furlongs to 10. Baaeed, for his part, has followed precisely in the footsteps of Frankel at the age of four, running in the same five races and therefore only stepping up from a mile on his penultimate start. (Something that may well end up being true of Flightline.)

Flightline-Met-Mile-SA6_9567-PRINT-Sarah-Andrew-1024x745.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="745" /> America's best, Flightline | Sarah Andrew

Baaeed's response to that new challenge hinted that he may only just have found his true metier. For a while, connections entertained the idea of probing a still deeper seam of stamina in Paris. In the event, they will have felt thoroughly vindicated, in having backed off, when the Arc was contested in such gruelling conditions. For some of us, however, even now there remains one stubborn question. If Baaeed were to win the G1 Qipco Champion S. with his customary leisure, then why on earth should he not proceed to the Breeders' Cup as well?

Remember that he began his career last year by winning four races between June 7 and July 30. Obviously he was a class apart, at that level, but he went about each assignment with equal gusto and has since often appeared the sort that keeps something in reserve. And this year, crucially, a three-week interval makes the Breeders' Cup far more feasible for any of the Ascot protagonists than when the card has been staged, with deplorable parochialism, just a fortnight beforehand.

Given the relative emphasis on speed between Keeneland and his race at York, the extra 300 yards of the GI Breeders' Cup Turf, if technically uncharted, would only play to Baaeed's strengths. There's obviously a degree of presumption, given that he has a serious job to do at Ascot, but I can only think of one reason why the question shouldn't at least be asked once safely making the winner's circle–and that's a reluctance to go looking for unnecessary trouble with so precious and cherished a champion.

But if that is indeed the case, then it just shows how inimical are the instincts of modern horsemen both to the genetic proving of the breed, and to the promotion of the sport. Baaeed wouldn't lose a cent in his stud value, if the gamble happened to backfire; and nor would he be remotely diminished in the estimation of posterity. He would have nothing to lose, and much to gain–in terms both of his own stature, and our communal hopes of reaching a wider audience.

In principle, exactly the same was true of Frankel. As it was, however, the Breeders' Cup was never a realistic option. For one thing, it was staged only two weeks after he ran on bad ground at Ascot; and his trainer, of course, then had heartbreaking mitigation for his conservative instincts. But I've always said he ran like a dirt horse, and would have lapped them in a GI Breeders' Cup Classic instead won by Fort Larned (E Dubai).

In both cases, then, we are left with the same suspicion: that an immaculate record increasingly becomes an impediment to maximum fulfilment. There's no need to reprise a list of the great champions, from Secretariat down, that ran (and risked) enough to forfeit the formal veneer of invincibility. But let's just remind ourselves that an unbeaten horse is very different from an unbeatable one.

As we've said, the kind of thinking that shapes decision-making–our priorities, our assumptions–will typically embed prevailing norms. And these do change, radically if gradually, from generation to generation. In its earliest days, the Thoroughbred was asked to run three heats of four miles in a single day. Nobody would suggest doing that now; and nor would anyone seriously expect Baaeed to take on Flightline at his own game.

Nobody? Actually, that's not quite true. But if he were mine, I guess that wouldn't be the only time I came down in the morning to find that bottle waiting reproachfully on the table.