10 Horses. 75 seconds. 3 laps around Siena’s main piazza. It is over in an instant, but in that instant is wrapped up all the emotional tumult of the Super bowl, the World Cup and the Olympics (summer, of course).

It is called Il Palio and it is perhaps the most famous horse race in the world. Why haven’t you heard of it then? Probably because 1. It concerns only the citizens of a mid-sized city in Italy; and 2. You can’t bet on it. (Well, you can if you are an American making 10 euro wages on Seashell to win. But we’ll get to that.)

Traditionally, Il Palio is strictly for the people of Siena. Each horse (there are 17 in total, spread out over two days of racing) represents a different contrade, or district of the city. In simpler times, before things like instant messaging and teleconferencing, back when we still trusted animals to do our work for us, Il Palio was used to settle disputes between districts. These days, it is solely for pride.

I will admit, when I first heard that the big prize was simply a brief moment of glory for one particular neighborhood, I balked. I likened it to Green Bay winning the Super Bowl and everyone in Wisconsin being “proud” that their state had done something other than make cheese. But seeing the reverence that goes into this event, one can immediately tell that this ceremony goes well beyond traditional notions of pride. Men wept with joy if their horse won; women collapsed in sadness if theirs didn’t. (I was told by one local that if you have made the poor choice of marrying outside of your contrade, the husband and wife, who by the way has taken a jar of soil from her contrade of origin to place under the bed in her new home, part ways to spend the week prior to the race with their parents in their native contrade. Note that most contrades are about a ten minute walk from each other. Yikes.)

The source of all the acrimony is . . . well I can’t figure it out exactly. As far as I can tell, it is fierce, historic patriotism. The role a citizen’s contrade plays in their life cannot be overestimated. Each contrade has its own government, coat of arms, elected officials, official territorial boundaries, church and a museum dedicated to its historic travails. Weddings and funerals are all celebrated by the contrade as a whole. Moreover, one cannot gain citizenship in a particular contrade simply by moving there. If you are born in a contrade, you receive two baptisms: one into the church, and one into the contrade.

Meaning that, come race time when 50,000 people (me, my friends and my family included) cram into the center of the Piazza del Campo, it is nothing short of sheer pandemonium. (Note that said sheer pandemonium comes without a bathroom break for four and a half hours.)

(Part 2 next week)

- by Dan Murphy of [redacted] fame