WELL, demmit, why not? Every other method has been proposed and discussed, both the sublime and the ridiculous, from ascension contrived by the Angel Gabriel—and he would be irreverently taken to task—to brimstone seizure out and down by the Prince of Darkness —who would receive a sacrilegious meed of praise.
Between the two great sports there are striking resemblances; wind, speed, stamina, and luck all count. Many place an emphasis on wind. All the impulses of human nature have full play in each game. Consider the number of forces that pull and tug at a captain in making out a fitness report, likewise all the various ways by which we underlings strive to beguile him into writing nice footnotes about us. Compare the foregoing with the training, scheming, planning, plotting, and running on the race tracks. How alike, too, in results. Favorites often falter in the last few strides, while long shots drop from the clouds to win. Old “has-beens,” warmed by the June suns, recover the use of dinky legs and stage stirring comebacks.
True, the introduction of this method would necessarily induce a language study of the racing idiom by those who have not previously taken and paid for the course. Also, it would require an amount of figuring, compiling, preparation of form charts, etc.
But the Titian-haired priestess of the red-backed, yellow shrines of the fitness reports could enforce a sufficient recess from recurrent receptions to put the clerical work through. Doubtless, too, she could find the time, as well as the inclination, to peddle stable tips, hand out predictions and charts, pick long shots, and run a handbook.
In this analogy the officers of the general list seeking promotion would furnish the widely differing specimens of the genus Eohippus. Each reporting senior becomes a race track, please pardon. An average of performances on all tracks would give a mean to which individual performances might be referred as to a common standard. Thus the average marks for all commanders becomes the median line for that group. The average of marks assigned to commanders by any one senior would be higher, the same, or lower than the common standard. If higher, this particular reporting senior is a fast track; if lower, he is a slow track. The difference becomes his track variant, plus or minus as the case may be.
For instance, if the average mark of all commanders is 3.6 (that is not far from it), and the average mark assigned by Captain A to commanders who serve under him is 3.8, then his track variant is -.2 which must be applied to any individual mark assigned by him to reduce that mark to the common measure. His pet commander’s cold 4.0 would become a more reasonable 3.8.
Naturally track conditions would be taken into the dope account—surreptitiously by the whispering tipsters. A sloppy track or a fast track would depend, perhaps, on rotten coffee or good coffee, digestion or indigestion, a cross or a complacent spouse. Unfavorable track conditions could be ingeniously concealed, yet made public.
The Selection Board, that august body, would be put in the position of being dopesters as well as judges. Their duty would be not the judging of an actual race, but the picking from past performances of the best handicap animals in training, generally found in custom from the upper tenth of each rank. Their work would be similar in operative detail though far different in result, to the choosing of fictitious All-American elevens by football experts.
A study of the form charts would yield much curious as well as valuable information. Running Commander X’s line through Captains A, B, and C would disclose many interesting angles on Commander X, as it most assuredly would on Captains A, B, and C. If six months is considered six furlongs and one year one mile, disproportionate to be sure, but not out of harmony with the article, sprinting and distance animals may be distinguished. If on first report an officer is a world beater and thereafter tapers off it would look as though he were a quarter horse. On the contrary those who pick up as time goes on should be rated as distance animals.
Inferences of all kinds could be drawn. Thus, Captain A’s marks on Commanders X and Y, Captain B’s marks on Commanders Y and Z, and Captain C’s marks on Commanders X and Z would give an equation from which Captain B’s rating of Commander X could be deduced. That is, Commander X’s performance in competition with Y and Z on tracks A and C would predict his performance on track B.
Handicaps would be as variable as they are in actual racing. Weight for age or for service eliminates some entries. Then there is the evident burden of a preponderant propensity prejudicial to prohibition, also fractiousness at the post and on the track, dull boy in the pilot house, etc.
Identic with racing, there is always the chance of slipping with the foot, particularly on sloppy tracks. If a fall results, innocent animals may pile up or lose distance. There is a similar jockeying for the start, i.e., the job. The dear old Bureau of Navigation is the much abused starter.
Remember that the dignified and respected judges must also dope from the form charts. And even on their eminence it could hardly be hoped that they would escape those influences that commonly affect the most hardened as well as the most upright of race-track habitues. The nuances of touts and tipsters and red-hot dope from the stable would float up, faintly perhaps but nevertheless surely, to the remote heights of the judges’ stand. Recorded form charts would no doubt suffer some modification.
Would this scheme work? Yes, just once. Then old man human nature would get busy. Some kindly but unscrupulous skipper would give his favorite pony a 4.5, thus insuring a victory once. The other skippers would sigh, but in justice to their subordinates, follow suit.