Among the great horse races of the world it could, at 88 years old, almost be considered an uppity stripling, especially in relation to those English Classics that reach back into the 18th century. But for more than half of its life the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe, which will bring its latest dramas to the Bois de Boulogne this afternoon, has laid convincing claim to being recognised as the most significant event in the entire global calendar of the Turf.

Any who go to Longchamp today — or who, like me, settle for watching the action on television — are likely to witness what it is that enables horseracing to impart a blood-deep thrill to so many of us. They will see the brilliant, unbeaten three-year-old bay filly Zarkava aspire to the seal of greatness the Arc is uniquely capable of delivering. She will be attempting to overcome the physical prejudices imposed by gender and the statistical burden of the race’s recent records as she takes on colts and older opponents for the first time. The French-trained Zarkava is a short-priced favourite (Ladbrokes’ quote is 7-4 this morning) but the biggest investment in her challenge will be the emotion of all of us who crave those moments when a sport offers up its minor version of the historic.

Of course, my assertions on behalf of the Arc will strike Americans as riddled with European bias. Yet, notwithstanding the barrier to direct comparisons of our racing and theirs created by the substantial differences in the conditions of competition on the two sides of the Atlantic, it seems reasonable to argue that no single contest for elite thoroughbreds in the US quite equals the prestige of the Arc or its reliability as a frequent provider of glorious climaxes to exceptional equine careers.

Obviously, not all winners of the race were exemplars of class, and some have been distinctly ordinary. Le Paillon, successful in 1947, before the Arc was raised to championship standard, was far more distinguished over hurdles than on the Flat. But soon afterwards the consecutive victories in 1955-56 of Ribot, a phenomenon foaled in England but based in Italy (he was undefeated in his 16 races on all kinds of going at distances from five to 15 furlongs), removed any doubt about Longchamp’s right to declare its masterpiece Europe’s supreme weight-for-age championship for middle-distance horses.

Then we were forced to think in terms of worldwide pre-eminence when the Arc of 1965 drew the most glittering international field of top-quality runners (including a US Classic winner) ever gathered for any race anywhere any time. Nineteen of them were doomed to be bit-players in the Sea-Bird spectacular. The chestnut wonder had slaughtered the Derby opposition with an imperious ease that persuaded the majority of us who were at Epsom we were in the presence of an animal whose like we would never see again. But in the Arc Sea-Bird was still more breathtaking, storming clear in the Longchamp straight to win by an official six lengths from the previously unbeaten French Derby victor Reliance, with the rest of his vaunted rivals at least five lengths farther back. The performance of the century by the horse of the century was and has remained the verdict of expert judges and, although the magnificent American Triple Crown winner Secretariat and his 31-length, record-shattering triumph in the 1973 Belmont Stakes can be advanced as legitimate alternatives in both categories, memories of that afternoon in the Bois de Boulogne were sure to give the Arc an impregnable position in racing lore. It has been reinforced since by a succession of great horses and Zarkava will join the pantheon if she can win today.

But, whatever the betting says, she is being asked to buck intimidating odds. There was a time when fillies made a habit of dominating the Arc. For five years in a row from 1979, females were led into the winner’s enclosure but two of them were four-year-olds, as was the most acclaimed filly in the race’s history, Allez France, in 1974. Since 1983, only Urban Sea, another four-year-old, has flourished the distaff banner at the expense of the colts and that was in 1993.

Undoubtedly, Zarkava’s six wins in the green and red silks of the Aga Khan have suggested the attributes of a history-maker. Under swashbucklingly assured riding by Christophe Soumillon, she has repeatedly come from far back with a devouring, unanswerable surge. Her turn of foot is stunning. However, cautioning voices identify flaws that could be cruelly exposed by the peculiar challenges of the Arc. Signs of a diva’s temperament accompany her dazzling talent and an occasional reluctance to break quickly from the stalls is rendered more worrying by her having been drawn on the extreme inside. In an often rough-and-tumble race where most of the mile and a half plots a curving course the handicap of being trapped behind a pack of horses would be huge, and likely to be worsened by her susceptibility to “hitting flat spots” in running.

If she shows vulnerability, there will be no shortage of male heavyweights ready to exploit it. Contenders from Aidan O’Brien’s Tipperary stable, Duke Of Marmalade and Soldier Of Fortune, are the two most fancied to take advantage and, though Johnny Murtagh has chosen to ride Duke Of Marmalade, the reports of slowish ground coming from the track yesterday could send the Soldier into battle on a wave of optimism.

As if the Irish menace weren’t enough, Zarkava will also have to cope with the powerful threat of last year’s Arc second, Youmzain from Mick Channon’s Berkshire yard, and with the danger perennially presented by a trainer acknowledged as the unparalleled master of preparation for the race, Andre Fabre, who is saddling Getaway. And there is plenty of hope attached to several other runners. Zarkava faces a mountainous task.

I’m mad about the girl but I’ll be backing her only with my feelings.

Tevez and the Premier League

I now realise that in dealing with the Carlos Tevez affair in last week’s column I was more than a little unfair to the Premier League and its chief executive, Richard Scudamore. I criticised both of them for ‘dereliction of duty’ in ‘limiting the punishment to a fine’ when ‘first penalising West Ham for their contractual transgressions’. That was a mistake, since it failed to recognise a rather important point. It was the Premier League that brought the disciplinary action against West Ham — and did its duty in doing so. But the Premier League’s complaint went before an independent commission (as it had to under Premier League rules). It was the commission that decided what penalty would be appropriate.

So my shots were wrongly aimed, for which I apologise to the Premier League and Mr Scudamore.

Fellow fans can curb the hate mob

Nobody expects football crowds to conduct themselves like theatre audiences but when they sink to the kind of poisonously vindictive behaviour that enveloped a large section of the Tottenham Hotspur away support at Fratton Park last Sunday they must be treated as a threatening mob, quite literally a menace to society. So many were involved in directing an incredibly sustained torrent of vicious abuse at Sol Campbell (chants which, whatever the protestations from Spurs supporters’ groups, palpably incorporated a sub-text of racism into homophobic taunts, mocking of mental illness and more standard vituperation over Campbell’s decamping from White Hart Lane to Arsenal seven years ago) that police apparently decided they had insufficient manpower on the scene to intervene forcefully without risking violent disorder.

Now the police are engaged in an investigation, having initially reported the extent and depravity of the chanting to the Football Association, who have also received a formal complaint from Portsmouth and are pursuing their own inquiries. In this and all other instances of serious crowd abuse, the difficulties of arriving at measures that will effectively combat the plague are obvious but the impossibility of finding a perfect solution should never constitute an excuse for failing to take drastic action. Only a minority of offenders could conceivably be caught but those who can be identified should be apprehended and punished by the courts and (with permanent bans) by their clubs. Making examples of them might discourage the others. If forcing teams to play behind closed doors is an injustice to innocent fans, it is nevertheless a price that may have to be paid in the campaign against the desperate low-lifes who amuse themselves by devising and inflicting ever filthier insults. And it could be an incentive to apply the self-policing that is ultimately the most reliable source of discipline among football supporters. We are entitled to hope that Tottenham and the rest of our clubs still have a majority of followers decent and brave enough to drown out the broadcasters of moronic hate in their midst.