BAGHDAD, 11 January 2004 — When the fourth race at the Baghdad Equestrian Club got under way Friday, No. 1, a big-boned gray named Fawal, was heavily favored to win. But No. 6, the muscular, chocolate-colored Burhana, pulled ahead at the final turn, maintained his lead and finished first by a neck.

The all-male crowd in the stands, many of them chronic gamblers and most of them scruffy, booed and grumbled as they watched the instant replay. But for once, few doubted that the contest had been fair, and neither Fawal’s jockey nor his trainer had to fear being jailed and beaten for the costly upset.

Former President Saddam Hussein’s son Uday “used to run this club, and his horses had to win or the jockey would be punished. One was beaten and kicked to death right in front of the stands,” said Raad Samir, 32, a businessman who owns several race horses. “Now it is much more comfortable. A jockey can win or lose without fear.”

Thoroughbred racing, once a part of Iraq’s proud desert heritage and more recently a victim of its self-indulgent dictatorship, has made a rapid comeback since Saddam was toppled in April. Track officials say races started up again only 10 days after bombs stopped falling on Baghdad, and the sport has steadily regained popularity ever since.

One undeniable appeal is gambling, which was banned during Saddam’s rule.

“Thanks to the coalition for allowing us to have fun again,” said Salah Hassan Umran, 27, who was betting heavily on a dice game. “Saddam never allowed it, but his followers played in their own clubs.”

For others at the track — including wealthy breeders of Arabian horses who sipped coffee in a VIP observation room and illiterate grooms who stroked nervous horses in their pre-race stalls — the day was purely about the love of horses.

Abdul Aziz Nujaifi, 78, owner of the largest racing stable and broodmare farm in Iraq, gazed over the track with satisfaction. Friday’s schedule featured one of the most important events here since the war: a race for green but promising 3-year-olds with a purse of $19,000. Nujaifi either owned or had raised every entry.

“The secret is in the bloodline of the horse,” he said, warming to a subject on which he is his country’s undisputed master. A servant appeared, and Nujaifi removed his boots for polishing. “If you want quick speed, the mother should be Arabian and the father should be from abroad. If you want purity and beauty and a long wind for distance, the Arabian is always better.”

Not far away, in the quiet gloom of a racetrack stall, Mohammed Jasim, 27, was perched next to Taha’s Eyes, a slim, gray 5-year-old mare he has tended since she was a filly. Her ears pricked up in nervous anticipation as she heard the crowd roar for the finish of a race. A saddle boy was approaching, and she seemed to know her turn would be next.

“I know her better than anyone, and she misses me even when I leave the stable for breakfast,” the groom said, whistling softly and rubbing the Arabian’s delicate muzzle to calm her. “When she is upset, she refuses to eat, so I give her apples or honey. She loves honey. I call her my daughter.”

The atmosphere at the Equestrian Club was decidedly masculine, with whiffs of alcohol heavy in the crowd of several thousand. There was not a single woman in the crowd, and track officials insisted that two visiting female journalists be accompanied by an armed guard.

But the mood was palpably relaxed and sporting, in contrast to the tension of tightly scripted racing events described by Iraqis who frequented the track during Saddam’s rule. His sons and associates, they said, imported fast horses and insisted they always win. Anyone associated with a loser, they said, paid a high price.

“There’s a very big difference now,” said Abdul Latif Hayali, 54, the senior trainer at the track, who was hurriedly inspecting mounts for swollen legs and saddle sores before one race. “If a horse belonged to a high official or a relative of Saddam, we were afraid. Now every horse is equal. No big shots are interfering, and they can compete fairly.”

Seven races were on the card Friday, and fans gawked at the powerful, elegant steeds — mostly a mix of Arabian and foreign breeds — as they paced in their stalls or pranced from stable to track. As each race was called, the track-side buzz fell to silence. Bettors held their breath for a minute, and then exhaled in triumph or chagrin.

“I owned a horse once. I loved him better than my own son,” said Yusuf Majid, 58, a dignified but threadbare man who was eagerly pressing against the fence to watch one race. “Here in Iraq, times are bad, security is bad, work is bad. The only things we have to enjoy are these beautiful horses.”

In some ways, though, Iraqi racing still suffers from the legacy of dictatorship. Because of sanctions put in place in the early 1990s, Nujaifi and others said, Iraqi horses could not compete internationally for more then a decade.

To make matters worse, they said, the World Health Organization reported an outbreak of contagious worms in some Iraqi horses, further ostracizing the country’s equestrian community. They said they hoped the agency would now return to Iraq and declare its horses disease-free.

Nujaifi, a retired lawyer and legislator from the northern city of Mosul whose family breeds Arabians on a large farm there, said he and his associates take pride in keeping their horses healthy and rigorously maintaining their bloodlines.

In Nujaifi’s stable near the track Friday evening, rows of stone patios surrounded by ample stalls echoed with clopping hoofs and soft whinnies. Grooms carried armfuls of clover to each stall, and the day’s winners munched extra troughs of carrots.

Although high-wager sprints are bringing big business to the track, Nujaifi said, the true spirit and endurance of Arabian horses is reflected in long-distance races, run for up to 100 miles over open terrain.

“Our horses are happy and strong because we let them out early to run in the desert,” explained the old man, sipping aromatic coffee in the stable office as dusk fell.

“One of my ancestors was an Arab knight who fought the Romans,” he recounted dreamily. “They say he rode his horse all the way to the Jordan River.”