If sprint races in India are about horsepower, then the long-distance ones are about headpower—except, of course, when most jockeys decide to leave theirs in the weighing room. Endurance races in this country don`t always crown the best horse; they usually crown the one whose jockey doesn`t miscalculate pace. A steady gallop turns into a chess match on legs, and when the plans click, a jockey looks like a genius. When they don`t? Well, then he looks like a passenger who accidentally bought a ticket for the wrong bus.

The Gr 1 Indian St Leger, the grand finale of the Classics, run over a gruelling trip of 2800 metres on Sunday at Pune, was the perfect showcase of this eternal truth. The lowest-rated horse in the bunch—Odysseus, trained by Pesi Shroff—walked off with the prize, not because he suddenly discovered hidden talent, but because Neeraj Rawal had the simple but rare good sense to sit handy in second, while the rest of the field decided to treat the leader like a contagious patient, keeping a good 15–20 lengths away.

Now, horses may hit 35 to 40 miles per hour, but here`s the inconvenient truth: you can`t give away the length of a football field and expect to make it up just because you fancy your mount. Yet time and again, India`s finest practitioners of “wait-and-hope” racing try exactly that, turning judgement into wishful thinking.

The designated hare, Tiepolo, ran merrily in front like a pacemaker on a morning jog, with Odysseus stalking him in second. Meanwhile, Positano—the short-priced favourite with the unfortunate habit of going missing in big races—was anchored so far back that he`d have needed wings, not legs, to bridge the gap. Akshay Kumar, in keeping with his long-distance résumé, ensured Positano never looked like a threat—unless one counts threatening the patience of his backers.

Golden Thunder, Pyrite, Duke of Tuscany, Thalassa, and Doctor Dolly (whose very presence seemed more like an administrative oversight than a sporting decision) were strung out behind Tiepolo and Odysseus who were in the front. By the time Neeraj Rawal pushed the button and sent Odysseus forward approaching the bend, the others had already gone off the bridle, floundering in pursuit.

For a brief moment, it looked like Positano and Pyrite who had clocked more miles in the last month than a taxi on strike day—might catch him. But Positano`s gas tank ran dry, as it so often does when the stakes are high, and Pyrite`s late fight only served to highlight Odysseus`s grit. The Shroff trainee dug in, found that mythical “something extra,” and held on gamely to score by a length. Pyrite wilted to second, Thalassa ran on to nick third, while Duke of Tuscany plodded into fourth. Positano? A tired and tame fifth—the darling of the ring, the disappointment of the track.

Odysseus (Ulysses-Hidden Valley), rated a modest 66, now finds his name etched into Classic history—not necessarily as the best horse in the race, but as the one whose rider didn`t overthink things. Pesi Shroff, master craftsman that he is, chalked up yet another Classic, while punters went home muttering the eternal lesson: in long races, it isn`t always the fastest horse that wins, but the one whose jockey remembers the basics.