Chapter 91. Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe (Part 1)
The Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe begins with an exceptionally long straight.
Therefore, despite being boxed in by Doleuze and Guillot immediately after the break, Shuta An still had plenty of time to consider how he and Tokai Teio could escape the pack.
At the moment, Tokai Teio was hemmed in from both sides, with horses closing in behind as well. Slowing down to swing around the outside was completely impossible. The only option was to find an opening through either Doleuze or Guillot.
"It's difficult—"
Even Shuta An found the situation troublesome.
From the grandstand, those watching the giant screen had an even clearer view of the entire field.
"This is probably the worst race development Shuta has encountered since arriving in Europe," André Fabre remarked in a relaxed tone.
Although he admired the young man's ability, their interests were on opposite sides in this race. Naturally, André Fabre had no objection to seeing Shuta An suffer a setback.
Standing beside him, Gosden shook his head.
"This is only the opening phase. The moment Doleuze and the others lose concentration, even for an instant, Shuta An will seize that opportunity and break free."
André Fabre offered no rebuttal.
He knew Gosden was right.
On the opposite side, both Uchimura Masanori and Matsumoto Shoichi had clenched their hands so tightly that they were trembling.
"This is bad..." Matsumoto Shoichi muttered pessimistically. "Is this because of Teio's outstanding performance in the Epsom Derby? Every opponent is targeting him right from the start."
"I know that's proof everyone acknowledges Teio's strength—" Uchimura Masanori forced a bitter smile. "but now, all we can do is hope Shuta-kun creates another miracle."
—
While the spectators each harbored their own thoughts, the pace-setting Dariyoun had already covered six hundred meters.
After Tokai Teio passed the same marker, Shuta An estimated the race tempo. A knowing smile slowly spread across his face, and the tension weighing on him noticeably eased.
"The opening six hundred meters were covered in the high forty-second range. That's a standard slow pace. Considering today's heavy going, that's only natural."
"But we've only gone a little over six hundred meters."
"There's no need to rush into breaking Teio out of this box. The earliest I need to act is when we reach the false straight."
Once he realized there was no reason to panic this early, the young man's body relaxed considerably.
Even the rhythm of his riding became noticeably smoother.
Following the advice Yutaka Take had once given him, Shuta An gradually synchronized his breathing with Tokai Teio's beneath the overcast sky.
"There really is a significant difference between Japanese jockeys and European jockeys."
As André Fabre watched the field on the giant screen, he seemed to be speaking to himself, yet also addressing Gosden beside him.
"It wasn't very noticeable when Shuta An was riding European horses, but now he's completely displaying the riding philosophy of a Japanese jockey."
—
Thousands of kilometers away, back in Japan, the JRA jockeys who had already finished their own race meetings that day had not gone home.
Instead, they gathered together in the jockeys' lounge to watch the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
"As expected, Ann-san's approach is very similar to ours."
Yutaka Take nodded with satisfaction.
"He didn't force Tokai Teio forward to fight for position. Instead, he's riding according to the rhythm he's most accustomed to."
"But he never rode like this on European horses." Tahara Seiki shook his head. "I'd really like to know how he switches between those mindsets."
"There's no way Ann-san would explain something like that."
Norihiro Yokoyama laughed.
"His riding philosophy seems to be something he never discusses with anyone. And honestly, even if he explained it, I doubt we'd understand."
"I've never asked." Yutaka Take spread his hands with a smile. "I can't remember that many things anyway. Besides, I have a feeling some of his ideas would conflict with my own riding philosophy, and that might actually do me more harm than good."
"They're about to enter the bend."
Norihiro Yokoyama narrowed his eyes.
"European races always feel unbelievably slow whenever I watch them. I wonder what it'd be like to just send one straight to the front and never look back."
"It really is slow." Yutaka Take estimated the fractions before continuing, "The first thousand meters took almost seventy seconds. You'd never see a pace like this in Japan."
"Even if someone tried to set that kind of pace," Yukio Okabe snorted, "some impatient youngster would charge up from behind and steal the lead."
He clicked his tongue.
"No patience whatsoever."
Since his complaint wasn't directed at anyone present, the room simply erupted in laughter before the conversation naturally continued.
—
Shuta An had also realized just how slow the pace of today's race was.
Compared to that, however, he had just made an even more encouraging discovery.
As they approached the bend, both Doleuze and Guillot naturally wanted to conserve as much ground as possible.
One urged his mount slightly forward.
The other briefly steadied his horse.
Then, almost simultaneously, both jockeys guided their mounts tightly toward the rail.
In that instant—
A gap appeared directly in front of Tokai Teio.
If Shuta An merely gave a subtle cue, Tokai Teio—whose coordination with him was nearly flawless—could immediately accelerate through the opening and escape the box.
Most jockeys would have taken that opportunity without hesitation.
Accelerating there would almost certainly guarantee a clean run onto the false straight.
But Shuta An did not ask Tokai Teio to quicken.
Walter Swinburn, riding the outsider Ezzoud, had been tracking Shuta An closely from behind throughout the race.
Naturally, he noticed the opening as well.
Putting himself in Shuta An's position, however, even Walter found himself hesitating.
"Mr. Shuta—are you going to seize this opening, or wait for another? Whatever you decide here will shape the entire race."
"I'll keep watching and then follow the flow you've chosen to create. Hopefully, Ezzoud can benefit from it as well."
Roughly twenty seconds later, with the leaders already reaching the middle of the bend, Shuta An finally made his difficult decision.
"Ignore the opening. Let Teio continue waiting inside the pack."
He wasn't certain it was the objectively correct choice.
But he knew one thing.
If he accelerated here, then unless he deliberately broke Tokai Teio's natural rhythm, he would have to keep asking him for speed all the way forward.
On Longchamp's heavy 2400-meter course, simply completing the race was already exhausting enough.
Repeated changes of pace would consume tremendous amounts of stamina.
Maintaining a prolonged acceleration would be nothing short of suicidal.
After all—
What racehorse could remain in an accelerating phase for twelve hundred meters, then still unleash a full sprint over the final few hundred meters?
Even at Tokyo Racecourse—with its famously long home straight—no jockey would ask a horse for maximum acceleration from the six-hundred-meter marker while still negotiating the bend.
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