I love the Derby. It’s my favourite race, and the suggestion that it should lose its distinction, making it another 2000-metre race, upsets me. The idea is symptomatic of the times, where everything must fit neatly into a linear spreadsheet, stripped of its individuality. Of course, shortening the Derby might attract a better field, but it would come at a far greater cost: the loss of its lustre, its spectacle and its role as a pathway for the middle-distance horses of the future.
I’m under no illusion that the Derby is not the race it once was. But the premise of what makes it great remains the same. I’d love to see each year’s Derby winner become a force in feature middle-distance races, both in Australia and abroad. Perhaps the race has been robbed of that opportunity in recent years, with Hitotsu and Observer rushed off to stud, while Riff Rocket very unfortunately passed away.
It’s the challenge of the Derby, for all involved, that makes it my favourite race.
To win the Derby, a horse must be willing. Willing to race through the barrier of pain, yet simultaneously willing to relax and conserve energy. Willing to race. At such a young age, the Derby tests temperament as much as it does speed and stamina.
A combination of speed, stamina and precocity.
Horse racing is founded on having an opinion and having a bet. The Derby is the greatest race there is to wager on your opinion.
Weight-for-age racing is great. The Cox Plate last Saturday was as interesting before the race as it was after. But there’s not much left uncovered. Times and figures are well publicised, and there’s not much left to know. The market is as efficient as it comes.
As punters, there’s nothing worse than an efficient market. Of course, you might disagree with it marginally, but only to an extent. The Derby? No one knows. I don’t, you don’t, and the market doesn’t. Which horse has the aerobic capacity and temperament to stay 2500 metres, yet is simultaneously quick-legged enough to win with a sprint? We can make educated guesses based on stride, sectionals and pedigree, but at the end of the day, we simply do not know.
And that’s the beauty of it. There are opinions to be had, bets to be won and plenty to be lost.
My angle in this year’s Derby is that Cormier, in particular, and Stormy Marco will pair off and win well. They have the strongest form and, at the very least, are mile-and-a-quarter horses, if not mile-and-a-half horses.
They have been my two for the Derby since June. They were second and third in the J.J. Atkins, and their strides hinted at both being middle-distance three-year-olds.
Of course, using stride as a quantitative measure of a horse’s optimal distance is a relatively new concept, and I’m still learning about it myself. It’s a tool, and like any tool, it has its exceptions, but it’s one I’ve found useful.
One runner I was keen to take on at 2500m was Hierarchy. He strides like a sprinter-miler. Many will remember his dam, a multiple Group 1 winner who won an Oaks herself. He’s by Dubawi, who typically sires quick-legged horses and, famously, has never sired an Epsom Derby winner, despite being one of the leading sires of middle-distance horses over the past decade.
Unfortunately, he was withdrawn on Thursday, so that will have to wait another day.
The theory behind finding the Derby winner is so far removed from that of any other race on the Australian calendar. There is no race like it. It’s so complex and so intricate.
The harder a race is to decipher, the better. The Derby is harder, for horse and human. To ride, to train and prepare, and to bet. That’s why it’s infinitely more rewarding.
It is the tradition of thoroughbred racing. We must respect it more.
