Yesterday, with less than a week before our second (and last) child leaves home for college, my wife and I took our son to Saratoga, for a day at the Spa and a last shot at pre-college family time.
I have been a horse-racing nut since high school, and Saratoga is to thoroughbred racing as The Louvre is to art. They first started racing at Saratoga 150 years ago (making it the oldest sporting venue of any kind in the country), and the grand old lady is as stately and dignified now as she was then. There are the traditions (a bell is hand-rung exactly 17 minutes before post time for each race), the spring water (alleged to have healing qualities; I imbibe every time I’m there despite the fact that it tastes nasty), and there are the ponies (the best jockeys, the best horses and the best trainers descend upon Saratoga Springs in August for the best racing in the country).
Fifty years ago, thoroughbred racing, baseball and boxing were the country’s three most popular sports. They have since been eclipsed by football, basketball and NASCAR, and thoroughbred racing and boxing barely have a pulse. That said, I can’t imagine a better day than was spent yesterday with wife and son in the grandstand, bonding and betting. There is simply no nicer place to lose one’s shirt than Saratoga.