Brian O'Connor was one of two journalists who attended yesterday's Turf Club appeal inquiry, but although history was made, it did little to excite him.

A little piece of history took place at the Curragh yesterday when the Turf Club threw out 216 years of tradition and allowed the media into an appeal inquiry.

Racing's regulatory body has long perceived itself as a guardian of the sport's nobler ethics, but the behind-closed-doors nature of stewards inquiries and appeals has always left them open to attack.

Not any more. Under the new appeals system which began at the start of the month the media are now allowed attend.

And so, the guardians of democracy and protectors of the weak marched into a new era yesterday, notebooks at the ready. Yup, we were there. Both of us. Banging the drum of accountability.

Funnily enough such a low turn out felt almost appropriate. Too many probes from the press pack might have ruined the atmosphere.

Since fire destroyed the Turf Club offices, everything has moved across the road. Yesterday's appeal was held in the racecourse stewards room and it was all remarkably low key.

Anyone imagining that skin and hair had been flying behind closed doors all those years would have been dreadfully disappointed if yesterday morning was anything to go by.

The case was of Snowfox, a mare banned from racing for 60 days at Limerick last month for not running on its merits. Yesterday her young claiming jockey, Adam O'Neill, who had been suspended for 21 days himself, showed up, along with the veteran trainer Joe Crowley who was appealing the 60 days for the horse's owners.

History dawned at 10.50am and we were led to be faced by the three stewards sitting at the top of a half-moon leather-topped table with a view of the Curragh behind them. Sad to say for cliché lovers there wasn't a Major General or a DSO in sight.

Roy Craigie, former manager of Fairyhouse, was chairman and he was joined by Michael Hickey and Peter Reynolds. Further down the table was Naas solicitor Brian Price who presented the case for the Turf Club. Past him was Seán Barry of the Turf Club, and beyond the wings of the table skulked us brave invaders.

"A quasi-judicial tribunal", was how Price described the proceedings afterwards.

And there was formality. Everyone was Mister, and reports were read out as in a court of law. But happily the formality seemed strained. Nobody yesterday seemed to be fattening on the idea of power.

It was all over within 50 minutes. Crowley, a pillar of the racing game whose sons-in-law include the champion trainer Aidan O'Brien and the champion jockey Pat Smullen, sat next to O'Neill whose hands were clasped nervously between his legs. Crowley looked serene as proceedings opened but perked up noticeably once the race film was shown.

To these unqualified eyes the stewards' case looked pretty clear cut. There have been worse cases, but it was also understandable why O'Neill hadn't appealed his own ban. Crowley, however, wondered why the horse was penalised.

"I see no reason why, if the jockey gives a bad ride, the owner should pay?" he argued.

Craigie and Co asked some questions, Price quoted the late Judge Mella Carroll and her judgment on the 2003 Davids Lad case in the High Court, and at 11.20am everyone left the room.

Nine minutes later we were back in. The stewards were not for budging. Then Crowley argued against the severity. That took 12 minutes to work out.

"The suspension of 60 days is reasonable," pronounced Craigie and that was it. Outside Crowley was miffed and threatened to quit training. "I'm 77 years of age. I don't have to take this hassle," he said.

It was the most exciting comment of the morning, and it came outside. In comparison what had gone on inside the stewards room had been deathly dull. After all these years, all we'd missed was boredom.