Well I hear you went up to Saratoga
And your horse naturally won
Then you flew your Lear Jet up to Nova Scotia
To see the total eclipse of the sun
-Carly Simon, You’re So Vain
Saratoga Springs, July 2024
161 years ago, in the penultimate year of the American Civil War, Saratoga Race Course was opened. At that time, there were two undisputed kings of American sport: boxing and horseracing. Baseball was still a young sport practiced by small local clubs (the Boston Redstockings would not be founded for another 10 years.)
Before long, the two largest hotels in the world, along with three other grand hotels, would grace Broadway Avenue to house the throngs of tourists arriving by train to play the ponies and take the waters at the local mineral springs.
Over the decades, first automobile travel and then other diversions changed the hotel trade. And new sports and pastimes like the NFL (and pickleball) purloined American’s passions away from the track.
Just since the year 2000, 41 horseracing tracks around the country have shuttered as their attendance has fallen. This makes Saratoga somewhat remarkable for its staying power.
Racing royalty like Secretariat, Man o’ War, Seattle Slew, and Affirmed have all graced the infield at Saratoga.
Fun Fact: An “upset” is the ubiquitous term for an unexpected win by an underdog in any sporting event. Did you know that this comes from when a horse named “Upset” defeated the heavily favored Man o’ War at Saratoga in 1919? Well, it's true. In fact, Saratoga is known as "The Graveyard of Champions" for all the big upsets that have occurred there.
We decided it was high time we paid a visit to the grand old dame of racing.
Having heard that you need to arrive early to secure a picnic table for the day, we left our campsite at a little after 5AM and arrived at the gates promptyly at 6AM. Sure enough, there were already people lined up to get their preferred spot on the grounds. At 7AM when the gates opened, we fast-trotted after them, not unlike actual race horses when their gates open, just a lot slower. We had no idea what lay ahead, that required such haste. I was imagining something like twenty tables. There were hundreds. So unless, you are super choosy... go ahead and sleep a little longer, though weekends may be different. We spread out our tablecloth and then wandered over to the track proper, where we enjoyed an overpriced but thoroughly delightful buffet breakfast while we watched the horses and jockeys warm up.
After breaking our fast, we did a stroll around the comely town of Saratoga Springs to kill some more time before we returned to the track for the day’s races, meeting up with friends Marc & Trudy. We wore hats, because that's what you do at the races.
I would sum up our experience as pleasant confusion. The confusion came from being a greenhorn in sport whose customs, lexicon and rituals are over 200 years old. Terms like: "Across-the-board," "parimutuel," "supertrifecta, "claiming price," "daily-double," and "exacta," cover the touch screens on the betting kiosks spaced conveniently all over the place, leaving me staring at it perplexed before it grows weary with my stupidity, times out, and spits out the payment voucher again.
And what the hell is a furlong? It's a little like betting on curling, in Norway. Not a lot of overlap to say betting the under on the Celtics game.
But it doesn’t matter very much because it’s all so darn pleasant. Saratoga is one of the last remaining public/private fun zones in America where you can kind of do whatever you want (within reason). You can bring in your own beer and booze (loads of it). You can bring in your own food. And if you didn’t bring your own, they sell it everywhere. You can wander around anywhere you want to with a drink in your hand. There are jazz bands, college reunions, and a Shake Shack. There are lots of large, clean bathrooms almost as conveniently located as the betting kiosks for small-bladdered beer drinkers. And none of the staff seem like they want to yell at you or tell you to stop doing whatever it is you are doing.
Over the course of the day, betting on about 12 different horses over 7 races, I managed to donate a mere $15 to the track; which seemed a reasonable tax on my little gambler’s high.
So, a day at Saratoga is very pleasant and only mildly confusing. At least for the people. If you’re a horse, you may feel differently.
The largely unregulated horseracing industry has chased performance with their athletes over the years much in the same way the East Germans used to chase swimming medals—with a lot of drugs and overtraining. In 2019, 30 horses died from racing related injuries in a single season at Santa Anita Racetrack in California. After that, both Congress and individual states stepped in to try to tighten restrictions on doping and abuse. But to say this has not satisfied animal rights groups is to put it mildly.
So, like avocados, enjoy your day at Saratoga with a heaping helping of guilt.
But the cooler full of beer helps quite a bit with this I've found.
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