Pablo’s Pulse

Pablo’s Pulse was a gelding by Steel Pulse out of Sweet Spelvin. He was trained at Newcastle by G.C. Oldfield — not one of the big city operations, not a name that appeared in the form guide previews, not a stable that struck fear into metropolitan rivals.

Described as “plain as day and certainly not a robust type,” Pablo’s Pulse had given no indication that he belonged anywhere near Group company. His form heading into the 1987 Warwick Stakes read like an argument for staying home. At 500/1, the bookmakers were essentially saying: this horse has no chance whatsoever.

Ron Dufficy was supposed to ride Pablo’s Pulse that day. When Dufficy was unavailable, lightweight jockey Jamie De Belin got the call-up as a replacement. It was a nothing ride on a nothing horse — or so everyone assumed.

De Belin had a theory about long-priced runners that set him apart from most jockeys. He believed most riders made a critical error with outsiders: they’d settle them at the back and ride conservatively, as if the horse was weak. De Belin reckoned this actually taught the horse to lose — reinforcing the idea that racing was someone else’s job.

His approach was the opposite. You’re probably going to get beaten anyway, he figured, so change tactics. Ride the horse like it deserves to be there. Every now and again, you can snap a cunning horse out of its losing mindset.

Warwick Farm racecourse, western Sydney. The Warwick Stakes, a Group 2 weight-for-age race over 1400 metres. Campaign King, trained by the legendary Bart Cummings, started at 1/3 on — the kind of odds that say “the only question is how far he wins by.”

De Belin didn’t ride Pablo’s Pulse like a 500/1 shot. He bounced him out of the barriers and sent him straight to the front. While the rest of the field settled in behind Campaign King, Pablo’s Pulse established an early lead and kept rolling.

Into the straight, Pablo’s Pulse was still in front. Targlish came at him hard. Campaign King, the horse that was supposed to stroll in, was labouring. In a desperate photo finish, Pablo’s Pulse held on by a nose from Targlish, with Cool Deal third. Campaign King — the 1/3 on favourite — finished fourth, beaten two and a half lengths.

Here’s where the story becomes almost impossibly strange. Jamie De Belin didn’t just ride one 500/1 winner. He rode both of them.

Five years before Pablo’s Pulse, on 3 July 1982, De Belin had won on a T.J. Smith-trained two-year-old filly called Anntelle at Canterbury — also at 500/1. Anntelle was one of six Smith runners in the race. Smith’s camp had originally wanted a different apprentice, Graham Robson, but De Belin’s boss Albert McKenna insisted his rider get the mount. Smith agreed because the filly clearly had no hope. She won.

Two 500/1 winners in the entire recorded history of Australian Group racing. The same jockey rode both. The statistical improbability of that coincidence is staggering — it’s the kind of thing that would be rejected as unrealistic in fiction.

De Belin eventually drifted out of racing entirely. He was found living in Darwin more than twenty years later, many kilos heavier than his riding days, having tried his hand at many different jobs. He holds a priceless, unrepeatable piece of racing history.

Pablo’s Pulse had his moment of immortality, and then racing reverted to form. Two weeks after the Warwick Stakes, he ran in the Chelmsford Stakes at Randwick — started $21 (much shorter odds this time, because everyone had noticed), and finished second to Campaign King, beaten two lengths.

He then ran unplaced in the George Main Stakes. He never won another race. At his 41st and final career start, he finished last at Taree — a country track in regional New South Wales — beaten 25 lengths by the winner.

One career win. One race. But what a race. The Warwick Stakes has since been upgraded to Group 1 and renamed the Winx Stakes — named after the mare who won 33 consecutive races. Somewhere in the honour roll of that great race sits Pablo’s Pulse and his impossible 500/1 victory.

Pablo’s Pulse teaches the single most important lesson in horse racing: on any given day, anything can happen. The form guide is a probability tool, not a prophecy. Odds represent the market’s opinion, and the market can be spectacularly wrong.

The race also illuminates how jockey tactics can transform a result. De Belin’s refusal to ride outsiders like losers — his instinct to put them in the race and force the favourites to earn it — turned a no-hoper into a world record holder.

For newcomers at the track, Pablo’s Pulse is the reason experienced punters never say “certainty.” The word doesn’t exist in racing. There are strong chances and weak chances, but the finishing post doesn’t care about the odds board.