A WEEKEND AT SARATOGA

Wise Dan and Johnny Velazquez

The start of the Fourstardave

I suffer from FOMO, fear of missing out, so I always go to Saratoga once or twice before the Travers, just in case something happens and I can't make the big race.  Saratoga is never disappointing and seems more beautiful every visit.  It can't really be described you have to be there.  This trip I was alone and had the freedom to experience things I haven't done before, like breakfast track side (nothing better), a backstretch tour, a visit to the National  Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame, and three blissful days of racing without anyone bitching about having to be at the track the whole time.  If I hadn't been so tried (it's a five hour drive for me) I would have gone to the trots as well and visited Old Friends at Cabin Creek, the thoroughbred retirement farm and Funny Cide-- next trip.
Let's start with the highlight of the weekend; seeing Wise Dan, last year's horse of the year, win the Fourstardave Handicap. What a race, King Kreesa gave him a run for his money but Dan reined supreme.  I hope everyone got their Fourstardave bobble head doll giveaway because it will be a collector's item from the 150th anniversary of Saratoga racing and, Fourstardave actually looks like Wise Dan.  Getting a picture of the superstar was almost impossible but I parked myself by the paddock fence when the race before was running and managed another, them watching us watching them photo of Wise Dan and jockey, John Velazquez.  I'm no Bob Coglianese, the famous track photographer, but I was privileged to meet him this past weekend.
One of the striking things about Saratoga is the people of all ages who love racing.  A little girl along side me at the paddock fence who was taking a photo with a cell phone bubbled with the thrill of it all and turned to me to say, "first time, it's my first time."  I almost cried, I knew how she felt, for some of us that excitement never wanes.  When I was driving out I saw a man slowly pushing an older man, who I assumed to be his farther, in a wheel chair.  (I used to push my mother around the races in a wheelchair in Australia).  They had a little cart hooked up to the wheelchair with their chairs and table folded in it and an elderly lady with a walker trailed along behind, I guess she was his mother.  I thought how wonderful the younger man was for taking the couple to the track and what great pleasure and memories they must share of summers at Saratoga.

My favorite pony.

Horses running in font of the big screen.

 Jose Ortiz

Moonlight Song

Harvey Pack says in his book, May The Horse Be With You, that people always congregate in the same places at the track, that they have their routine, their favorite spot by the rail and that is so true because I often see the same faces where I stand.  I used to spend a lot of money buying seat tickets but they were way too far from the paddock for me and the whole point of being at the track is the advantage of picking your bets by physical form, a luxury the Daily Racing Form can't provide.  So I rent a fold-up chair and set myself down in the paddock area.  Some of my ex-friends think it's slumming it and that I look out of place in my hats and heels with the hardcore New York punters, but I don't really blend anywhere and you try walking around the track all day in 5" heels.  I don't know how, Maggie in the Paddock (Maggie Wolfendale) does it, she must have nerve block injected in her ankles.  Maggie in the Paddock is a talented horsewoman, I even saw her riding track work in the morning while I was having breakfast.

Maggie Wolfendale

When I first unfold my chair the guys don't want to look up at me, they all have their noses buried in the form trying so hard to look like they know what they are doing.  I just smile put down my Daily Racing Program, I'm too cheap to buy the Form and I don't need pictures and stories with it all live right in front of me.   I tear the single race page from the Post an trash the rest on my way to Dunkin Donuts for a latte.  On my way back I pick up the scratchings from the widow and head for my seat to handicap.  The guys are usually listening hard for the announcement of the scratches by that time, and then Andy and Jason are up with their tips. They are very good, but I hate when a horse wins and they put me off it, so I usually stick to my own selections.  First I do the scratchings on The Post page then the last three runs to see who is in form, then I go to the "Fast Performances" page in the DRP.  The column I find most important is "Fastest Avg. Comparative Speed in Recent Races."  Pretty much all my other selections are done by eye: top weigh, balance, conformation, muscle tone for distance, stress level  and behavior of the horse on show, not color.
If I here another person at the fence say, always bet the grey because grandma bets the grey, I'm going to choke.

At the paddock fence

Unfortunately, I did bet the grey in the Adirondack Stakes, Fiftyshadesofgold, who got bumped horrible in the straight and finished third.  My other selection, who I was not on, Designer Legs, won at 16-1 when Who's in Town was disqualified for interference.  It was a bit of a rough finish for the 2-year-old fillies and we lost one when Charmed Hour broke down.  Designer Legs, bought for $10,000, looked a treat and I think Dallas Steward maybe the next hot trainer; remember Golden Soul's outstanding run in the Kentucky Derby.  Steward is also a graduated of the D. Wayne Lukas school of assistant trainers.

It's always hard to get out of your hotel bed for breakfast at the track but well worth it, and think of the people who do it everyday all their lives.  Saratoga has an announcer at track work which is just fabulous or I never would have got the shot of Maggie.  Then, I was out at the car switching cameras when I saw the trolly getting ready to do the backstretch tour and jumped on.  The guides were all very informative and it was a perfect sunny morning.  We were allowed up close to a beautiful, darling, gem of a pony-horse called Buddy, who was a nice horsie fix.  On the walk around I got to breath in the smell of the barnyard I miss so much and mostly only find in the nose of a good Burgundian wine these days.  I can hear the clang of the gates fly open in my head and remember the two-year-olds at barrier practice.  People say, "when they die they want to go to Heaven."  When I die I want to go to Saratoga.

Buddy the Pony

Gate Education: Carlos Martin youngsters

Morning Work

Learning the lead change

The stream of sets going onto the track were thinning out so I thought eating might actually be a good idea. There is nothing like sitting track side and hearing the horses hoof-falls and listening to their nostrils resonate with every stride.  Watching horses on the track at morning workouts is the best place in the world to have breakfast.  Oh, and the buffet was outstanding too; wish I'd had some of that apple-corn bread to give Buddy.

Breakfast Frontside

I'm a straggler and it was nearing 10:00 a.m. when they close the track to prepare for the races.  Time to visit the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame just across the road.  I've always heard about it from The Mig and Ernie on Raceday.  The sculpture room was great, you didn't have to cross the room to read which one was Secretariat, it kind of stood out with a natural glow.  I really enjoyed the steeplechase exhibit too.  Thursdays is steeplechase day at the Spa, the first race is always a jump and in August there are two hurdle races every other Thursday.  I love the jumps.
In England last year I saw a greyhound hurdle race and thought it was awesome, better still, I managed to win the exacta!  That was my first dog jump. Just because I like the dogs doesn't mean I'm a mutt.  I'm Australian and we generally like all forms of racing. That is probably why the Triple Crown room at the museum was the most magical for me with the Holy Grail on a pedestal in a glass case in the center.  The most sort-after trophy in racing made by Cartier with it's three points, each representing a jewel, one leg of the Triple Crown, which would seem to be the hardest achievement in sports these days.  Some people think it's plain but I was dazzled by it's silver shine as I walked around trying to see the future winners hidden in it's bowl, like searching in a crystal ball.
Summer is all too short in New York.  The trees were already starting to turn upstate.  Winter is coming and I hate to think of that great track with it's historic grandstand sitting alone in the cold all through the dark days.
(Photos by Annie Wade)