St Leger: Family break for Idaho

An unholy turn in a holy land, it was like some sort of impromptu hip-hop record, with the unlikeliest of rappers.

Who's the dam? (Who's the dam?)

Who's the dam? (Who's the dam?)

Who da man?

Who's the dam? (Who's the dam?)

It's not exactly Buck Palace, but it is royalty in its way, and access to Ballydoyle is hard to come by and harder to play it cool once you're in, hence a local zealous journo, during an open day a few years ago, grabbed the opportunity with no hands, neither free, as in one was a dictaphone and the other were reams of paper, backing O'Brien into a corner for the lowdown on every one of the string he could research.

And why wouldn't he, when he's in that position? And why would O'Brien, when he's in his position? But he did, under pressure, under the spotlight, and under a halo as he showed saintly patience while dozens of names were thrown at him, like calling out a register.

It was something to see. A momentary pause after each name, while O'Brien found the relevant compartment in his Sherlock-style mind palace, and then he was off, with a prim and pointed précis of the horse in question.

And then came the two-year-olds, the unraced two-year-olds, whose names at that time meant little to O'Brien. But their dam did. So the rhythmic rap began.

Name. Who's the dam? X. Bang.

Name. Who's the dam? X. Bang.

The dam's name was the key code, unlocking the door to the family history and the next generation.

The past informs the present and influences the future. It's a maxim that permeates many aspects of racing, from the form book to the programme book, but none more so than in the game of family fortunes which is literally and figuratively the lifeblood of the sport, mating and creating the new breeds in the old ways.

It's family counseling, only the family doing the counseling, each relative guiding and advising the trainer of their wants and needs in readiness for the next sibling coming along; the past informing the present and influencing the future. Aidan O'Brien seems to be an advocate of the clan plan.

At this time last year the Gleneagles saga was at its potty pinnacle, including bringing the mountain to Muhammad, the authorities moving the Irish Champion Stakes to earlier on the card to try to escape the forecast rain. The ground was the thickening plot by then, but the trip had already been a big storyline, after O'Brien had resisted the temptation - and lots of outside lobbying - to run Gleneagles in the Derby.

When the Derby means so much to Ballydoyle and 'the lads', and they had so little for the race that year, why was Gleneagles steered clear of Epsom when it was still in the SatNav up until the final entry stage? I think we're back to the importance of family, and the fact that, the year before, Gleneagles' full-sister Marvellous, winner of the Irish Guineas, had tried and failed to stay in not one but two Oaks, at both Epsom and the Curragh. Rightly or wrongly, it appeared the past had informed the present and influenced Gleneagles' future.

It surprised many of us when Ballydoyle (the horse) was taken out of the Oaks at Epsom this summer, instead rerouted to the ten-furlong French version, but, again, her elder sister possibly had a hand in it, Misty For Me finishing a fading fifth in the 2011 Oaks, the pair having been virtually inseparable in their shared trajectory and targets before that point.

I'm not saying for a second that the Ballydoyle private school works purely to a sibling syllabus and that it's all relative, relatively speaking, as to focus on the family patterns is to underestimate the individual tutelage for each pupil based on their make, maturity and mindset, as well as the instinctive genius of Headmaster O'Brien, but the rudimentary rule of what's good for one sibling could be good for the next seems to be part of the trainer's playbook, finding if the force is strong in a certain family, then strengthening its force.

All of this is the context for the central issue of the central horse on the central race (for a couple of hours at least) on Saturday. In a St Leger where some contenders fell along the path and some fell on stony ground, Idaho has increasingly stood out from the crowd, so much so that his only test is the test itself and not the opposition, the extra two-and-a-half furlongs now his main rival by default. And the interesting thing about that is, in taking the challenge, Idaho is leaving the family business behind.

Highland Reel made and laid the blueprint, and his year-younger brother, Idaho, followed it, not the exact same hoofprints but the more time passed the more synchronised they became, their paths metaphorically meeting in the Irish Derby, before chiming together, history repeating, as Idaho won a St Leger trial, seeing Highland Reel's Gordon and raising him a Voltigeur.

But that's as far as it got, or at least as far as Highland Reel got in distance terms, O'Brien staunch in his belief that he wasn't a St Leger type, going the other way, in fact, by bringing the horse back in trip - successfully so - in the Secretariat Stakes a couple of weeks later, and ever since he's almost become the Ballydoyle middle-distance flagbearer. Yet he has clearly seen something different in Idaho to break with family tradition and send him down the Doncaster road, probably before York than after it, comparing and contrasting him and Highland Reel in their respective Leger trials.

At Goodwood in last year's Gordon, Highland Reel was ridden to win, full stop, nothing flashy nor fancy, just kept handy and kept going once getting the gap. For Idaho at York, on the other hand, it was a Leger trial in its truest sense, ridden to teach as well as win, very much a dry run, chiefly in terms of the tactics, dropped right out with his stamina saved up, the way he'll have to play it faced with a further two-and-a-half furlongs at Doncaster.

It's all part of the precise planning by Aidan O'Brien, and there's no better trainer than him at managing an increase in distance for his charges. Or is there?

We all assume that O'Brien is the master of stretching his horses out when the time comes, whether it's the Derby, or the Leger, or the Gold Cup, such is his record in those races, but how about overall, compared to his peers?

Better people than me at Timeform set about the data, evaluating the success rate of trainers stepping horses up in trip (from a mile and a half to beyond for the purposes of this specific study), 'success' deemed as winning or running to within 5 lb of their Timeform master rating. We analysed all horses aged three or more, rated 100 or more, since 2001, who took the leap beyond twelve furlongs.

For all horses not trained by Aidan O'Brien, the percentage that successfully stayed the longer trip, by Timeform measurement, was 53.8%.

For all of Aidan O'Brien's runners making the same move, the success rate was as high as 64.2%.

The St Leger is Idaho's to lose, at least on form, his rating some 6 lb and upwards clear of the rest. The black-and-white issue of who's the best horse is made greyer by the unknown of the trip, and if Idaho was trained by anyone else then the data says it's roughly a 50-50 call, but because it's O'Brien his chance of staying is more a 4/7 shot, and that's without the margin for error his superior form gives him.