Siena's palio a wild race with no rules

THE Siena palio is a mad scramble of a horse race, accompanied by extravagant parades and celebrations.

Jockeys ride their horses during the last day of practice for the Palio horse race in Siena / Reuters

TO the residents of Siena, the palio is not life or death. It is far more important.

This is more than just a horse race. For the winning contrada, victory balloons local pride, brings a great blessing to the area and gives bragging rights over ancient arch rivals.

Italian stallions: Siena’s palio

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And what a race! In the 16th century the palio was run on buffalo-back, then later on donkeys until the mules were superseded by a bareback horse race which is referred to as the ”modern palio”. Modern in these parts being 1656.

The rules have not changed since then, in that there are none. It is a mad scramble. Ten horses, three laps around the piazza, first horse past the post – with or without the jockey.

For those unfamiliar, the city of Siena is divided into seventeen small zones – the contrade – each with distinctive colours and animal mascot. After trials on the Thursday morning to decide which horses will take part, the Senese gather in front of the town hall and ten contrade draw a horse in the race.

This horse is immediately whisked off to its new home with the faithful singing and chanting behind it. For the next four days it will eat, sleep and live with them as they prepare it for the race, train it and guard it with their lives.

The big event leading up to the race is the night before when each area holds its own feast in the local piazza. I wangled a ticket to the dinner of the Civetta contada. Their mascot being the Owl.

And quite a pep rally it is. After a lot of drinking and singing an old guy took the mic and gave a rousing speech. Then the contrada captain got up and apologized for the fact that they hadn’t won in over thirty years and generally did his best to play down expectations.

Last to speak was their jockey, Andrea Mari. He simply said that he was in no doubt he would win and sat down to rapturous applause. Then the young women all rose, brandishing their butter knives in the air, and sang a song threatening to cut off his plums if he didn’t bring home the bacon.

One could only marvel at their ability to motivate.

Naturally race day is the culmination. Outside my room the neddy for the Panthers was being dressed in ceremonial robes ready for church. All runners are taken to be blessed on the day. Apparently, if the horse takes a dump inside the church it is considered very good luck. Unless, of course, you happen to be the church janitor.

The race is preceded by the traditional parade, which is still performed exactly as it was in medieval times. The sun beats down and a hundred thousand people jam in to and around the square. It is possible to have too good a vantage point. For instance, if you are in the front row it is a great view but you also get to be the running rail, which can have its moments.

The track is cleared and swept. Enter the cavalry who canter for a lap then draw swords and charge for another. Flags are waved, twirled and thrown in extravagant fashion. Men in suits of armor, knights on horseback, others in hats, wigs, woollen vests and tights add to the spectacle and give a constant reminder of how dressing light only recently came in to vogue.

Finally a wooden carriage, drawn by four oxen the size of elephants, enters bearing the palio – the long vertical banner after which the race is named. The palio is then placed on a flagpole adjacent to a second floor balcony.

The other important function of the contrada dinner is to raise money. And what they do with the money is give it to the jockey to spend on the starting line. The dirt track around the piazza is 340 metres in circumference with four sharp turns. So fair to say inside draws are a big advantage.

Nobody knows the starting order until the horses are called up to the rope. Once there, the jockeys can then bustle and pay each other for better position. For the next ninety minutes they jostled, elbowed and punched. Mari struck the hoop on the heavily favoured Unicorn’s horse with his whip, who pulled out of line and rode over to the starter to complain.

The rider for the Giraffes was letting Mari into the inside position but after a while the Giraffe supporters vented their disapproval and gave their man a spray. That deal was off but soon the jockeys on either side of Mari were refusing to let the Unicorn into the line.

After two false starts the rope dropped and the race was on. The rider for the Dolphins had his horse facing the wrong way. The Unicorn copped a squeeze and was out of play and Civetta was best to begin, racing to a good lead. The knock on Indira Bella proved to be unfounded. With breath taking skill and daring her rider took took inside runs making ground to second after the first lap and gaining quickly.

Mari saw her coming on the inside and angled to put her rider over the fence, causing Indira Bella to check and he pinched a break again. Once again Indira Bella began to close but rounding the treacherous right angle turn at the Palazzo Pubblicco, clipped the concrete corner post and catapulted the jockey into the wall opposite. It was all over. Mari raised his whip high above his head – he was home.

People piled onto the track. A couple of them were pole-axed by the riderless horse.

Now in the literature I had read, it states that once they cross the finish line the result has to be ratified by the three judges. But in the blink of an eye the Owl folk had climbed up and wrested the palio from its lofty perch and the prize was headed in the direction of the Civetta home along with the horse and thousands of wildly ecstatic supporters.

Andrea Mari punched the air repeatedly. Not only had he just become a legend of the palio but he also got to keep his undercarriage intact.

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