Unlucky 13. Not in Hong Kong. Silent Witness has already been through the unlucky number here. Four is unlucky. Fourteen too - so we'll think about fung shui next time. But 13? Nothing more than wishful thinking. It's getting hard to remember that Silent Witness is a horse. Twelve from 12 and more to come. He is the sun and stars. He's been here forever in our minds. Yes, one day he'll stumble. One day he'll taste wretched defeat. Or one day he might even win under full pressure, instead of only exerting himself for about 15 seconds, pricking his ears and taking Felix Coetzee's pat down the neck before the winning post. One day. The awesome machine is an actor. A brilliant showman. Hoarse voices cry out at the thrill of the rollercoaster. The hero in trouble again in the second act by the 400 metres, who somehow prevails before the curtain. He's Schwarzenegger. He's Indiana Jones. He's every hero who ever saved a damsel, caught the bad guy or stopped the evil plan. He's just close enough to failing to raise the question next time - will this be the day the black hat wins? That's entertainment. And the black hats are here. Yell for the Woodlands team that floods over Australian racing. Yell as Hawkes is dipping a toe in international waters. Big strong Calstone Light O, a bruiser with the prizefighter looks and greased lightning hooves. Var - almost a claimer before Clive Brittain took him on and the Yank showed old Europe a thing or two. But unlucky 13? We shall see. The Jockey Club has asked the world to come and it's here. The turf world championships. They aren't years or months or days away. They aren't in the planning or development stage. Like the old baseball legend - they built it and they've come. The biggest owners, the name trainers, the hardest competitors on horseback. Fifty-six million dollars in stakes and a fortune in pride. Now let's see what they can take away by stealth or strength or sheer dumb luck while the world watches and wagers and waits for the day soon at hand when they will see Hong Kong racing as regularly as their own. It's a global plan. The premier product. The biggest betting. It's the Jockey Club schedule for world domination and it starts today, on and off the track - but nobody said it would be easy. Obstacles stand on the path. Talented, temperamental Rakti, for one. A big one. He doesn't contest even Group Two races these days. He lives his career in elevated spheres but where's the desire? The Rakti who fought and argued his way around Sha Tin earlier this week desired only to be somewhere else. The spoiled brat Rakti who simply didn't want to be there in Japan last time, either. Or will he be the purring Formula 1 animal who found only cosmic Falbrav beyond him last year? What does he want to be? Rakti or not Rakti? That is the question. Because if the cantankerous colt plays truant again, it's everybody's race. Frankie or O'Brien, Soumillon or Bolger. Hayes, Oughton and Fujisawa. They'll all have a hand on the silver if Rakti misses school but only getting the other hand around the Cup makes it truly yours. Round up the usual suspects and throw them into the Vase again. Warrsan, Roosevelt, Polish Summer and Imperial Dancer are back for more. But fold Simonas into the mix, too. Fallon says he went too early last time and the German pulled up in front. He won't do that again. And pint-sized Vallee Enchantee is back to prove again that size doesn't matter in the Vase, while big strong Grand Zulu will attempt to show that not only does Size matter - he's vital in the Mile. Size has taken bitter pills in the Mile with Electronic Unicorn before. Now he has a warrior, a Zulu. Durandal seeks the mantle of Eishin Preston, who smashed the Unicorn so comprehensively three years ago. How poetic if the iconic Australian trainer can avenge Unicorn's defeat by Eishin, how hard reality's judgment if Durandal repeats the pain.