Do the Stipendiary Stewards do their homework? Or do they simply outsource their thinking to a magic 8-ball that always lands on “Enquiry”?

Because you have to hand it to them: they spotted “improved performance” in a horse that ran exactly as it always does—just this time, in a field so slow you needed a calendar to time them.

We know the drill. The Stewards rarely stir unless members in the stands scream when their pick loses. At that point, it’s all sound and fury—“Call an enquiry!” they bellow, and the Stewards, those paragons of independent judgment, meekly comply.

These are the same Stewards who, last season, thoughtfully downgraded charges of stopping a horse to the gentler “unsatisfactory riding” because the professionals concerned had supporters in the Stewards room. Integrity of racing? It is negotiable.

Wellington, a seven-year-old warhorse who’s seen more birthdays than most of his rivals have seen starts, had the distinct pleasure of taking on sprightly younger horses including three-year-olds last time out—the kind with glossy legs, pristine joints, and grandiose Derby dreams.

He duly finished way behind Doncaster Belle, a genuinely talented filly who won by five lengths, and Final Call, a four-year-old who once got to say she ran in the Indian Oaks and Derby. Doncaster Belle was out on her own in front, Final Call was comfortably four lengths clear in second, and Wellington trailed in a leisurely 15 lengths behind the winner—just enjoying the view, really.

Of course, that race wasn’t exactly a model of serenity. Doncaster Belle decided to do a graceful side-step from her wide draw all the way to the rails, causing what can politely be called a bit of turbulence. One jockey even got unseated mid-chaos, while Wellington found himself doing an unplanned tour of the outside railings. He suffered interference, was forced to swing absurdly wide around a riderless horse, and entered the straight having lost all momentum.

All told, it was less a competitive race for him and more an obstacle course. But sure—apparently the Stewards see that as a valid yardstick to measure "improvement" when he turns up next time and just beats some fellow pensioners running at half-speed.

So imagine my surprise when they decided this—of all things—deserved an enquiry: Wellington’s win in the Southern Empire Plate (Class 20–45, for six-years-old and over—so let’s be clear, a race for the turf’s Who’s Left?).

Let’s do the forensic analysis the Stipes apparently couldn’t be bothered with:

Field strength? About as intimidating as a group of pensioners at aqua aerobics.

Race times? The “winner” of Wellington’s prior race clocked 1:25.93. Wellington himself had managed a stately 1:28.37. El Alamein (also in this field) had previously won in 1:29.35. The Golden Dream had run 3.2 Lengths behind the winner in 1.28.22 seconds. The rest of the runners had not done anything to even merit attention.

Who could actually win? Realistically, only Wellington, El Alamein, and The Golden Dream.

· But The Golden Dream clearly thought dreaming was easier than running, ambling in for a dismal fifth—more than 14 lengths adrift. El Alamein plodded along true to form to take second without breaking much of a sweat. And Wellington? He ran exactly as he did last time except the others in the field appeared to have no strength in the legs.


· The difference? This time he had the luxury of racing against a pack of jaded veterans who seemed more interested in collecting appearance money than mounting a challenge. Add in better underfoot conditions and the gentle cruising speed of the race, and Wellington naturally clocked a better timing. Hardly the stuff of dramatic improvement—just a horse repeating his old form against rivals who couldn't be bothered to put up a fight. Interestingly, the timing clocked corresponds to the time clocked by Wellington in his previous outing where he finished 10 lengths behind Emphatic in a timing of one minute 26.71 seconds.

Yet the Stipes apparently saw blazing improvement. Why? Because Wellington, a horse that hadn’t won in 777 days, suddenly found himself the least slow of a truly sluggish bunch.

Let’s spell it out: there was no improvement. Just a repeat of prior form, but against a field so feeble that “being upright” was enough to win.

Ah, but the Stipes decided this merited an enquiry. Presumably they wanted to investigate the scandalous possibility that a horse could win without actually improving. The horror!

If this is their standard of analysis, racing fans can rest easy knowing that the integrity of the sport is safe. Or at least as safe as it can be when the gatekeepers are watching reruns of Inspector Clouseau for tips on investigative technique.