My Memories from Saratoga
I was sitting here reminiscing about my younger years and my adventures to Saratoga and wanted to share my memories from one trip in particular. I haven’t been to a racetrack since well before my son was born. Wow, that seems like a long time now. After that, my dad died and all connection to racing was gone. As I tell these grand tales, I have to first tell you that they are tales of time and place. Many of the things I will speak of could not possibly happen in this day and age, and some of the privileges I enjoyed no longer exist.
Saratoga Bound
This adventure starts with an airplane ride to Rhode Island, where my best college friend lived. After spending the evening with him and his wife at their home, we were off on our adventure. We went to Newport, RI to see his mom, and stopped at the OTB on our way out of town to Saratoga.
Well, that’s where it gets good. We were in the OTB when I found us a horse to bet on, that I tell my friend about. It wins and pays well. The guy sitting next to me says, “I heard you talking about that horse, so I bet him and would like to buy you guys a beer.” Well, one thing led to another and we’re hanging out in no time. The guy gives us his number and says, “Call me, I’m a good guy to know in Saratoga”, with a chuckle. Well, we didn’t think much of it and headed off to Toga as well.
Saratoga at Last
When we got there, we found that the digs my friend’s father had given us for the week went to the tune of 5K/wk (back in the 1990’s). It was like staying in a museum, with every accommodation you could think of. Everything was antique. I slept on a feather bed with a canopy. It was spectacular and, I almost forgot, was walking distance from the track. Holy shit, right?
So, we go to the races the first day and immediately run into the guy from the OTB. Uh, it turns out, they call him “The Mayor”, as he has lived in Saratoga Springs his whole life, and he knows everyone. I mean everyone, and that’s how NY works. Anyway, he immediately invites us to his table in the front row of the Clubhouse. Boom. You can’t even get those seats unless you know somebody. There are some seeming celebrity types at the table who we introduce ourselves to by first name and start to chat with. My buddy’s dad owned horses and my father was an owner/trainer in CA, so we “belonged”.
Saratoga Nightlife
So, we settled in and played some races. Our hosts were quite generous, and fine food and beverages just started showing up at the table for everyone to enjoy. As we settled in, my buddy went on a mystifying tear and was just winning every race in sight. After a strong day, the races were over, and the Saratoga nightlife began. Everyone migrated over to Siro’s for cocktail hour and music just like we do every day after the races. In this place, you will mingle with all walks of life, including celebrities and the elite. One night, I pulled up to a bar to find Rick Pitino sitting next to me. It’s really cool, and I have tons of stories. There was even this young woman. Well…
Anyway, since we were the big winners, we took our gracious hosts out to dinner downtown, which is where most people go for dinner after Siro’s. Well, we went to this fantastic place and we ordered up. That’s how the world of racing is; easy come, easy go. A particular guest, who was clearly the head of this bunch, was like a kid in a candy store. You could tell that he was used to paying for everything in his world. (I would later learn why, and there is a reason I am not using any names.) Before you knew it, this guy loved us, and quickly assigned us our NY nicknames.
Classic Characters
In short, we were in the club and he invited us to sit at his table any time during the week and instructed his waiter to “take care of us.” No shit. One night, when we were out with them in town, I was standing at the urinal when a guy pulls up next to me and says, “do you know who you’re sitting next to?” I said, “Yeah, ——-.” He nodded his head as he looked me deep in the eye. He was trying to tell me something. Honestly, I didn’t care. The racing world is a collection of people from all walks of life. What they do outside of the races is irrelevant when you’re at the races. That’s just it. It’s the great escape, and that escape is a sacred thing. Horsemen, workers, gangsters, billionaires, and everyone else you can think of. You’ll find it at the racetrack.
The Perfect Ending
Anyway, after a week of partying that would kill most people, we staggered in for the last day of racing. At this point, we rolled out of the car with a necessary beer, just to function properly. Well, we were late for the first race, and the horses were walking right in front of us, on their way to the track. If you know the Saratoga Clubhouse entrance, you know what I am talking about. By the way, all week long I had been teaching my buddy the finer points of visual handicapping from a horseman’s perspective.
Well, using the most effective tool I taught him, there were two horses that stood out, and they were coupled in an entry (1, 1A). I told my buddy to forget the Racing Form and trust what I had taught him. I told him to go to the window with confidence and bet with both fists. It was an absolute “trust the force, Luke” moment, but he had been in these moments with me before and he trusted me. Well, the entry ran first and second and we cleaned up. We had no idea what the odds were when we bet because we were betting blind, other than looking at the horses. Well, it ended up being a huge score and, of course, my buddy magically came up with an exacta that paid an extra couple thousand.
So, we left about halfway through the race day that day, having already spent an incredible week. We had lived like a couple of swells and were leaving big winners. Plus, we had to drive back to RI, and were completely spent. It was an awesome first adventure to Saratoga.
Homeward Bound
When I flew back to CA, I sipped cocktails through the entire flight. Did I mention that my buddy bumped up my flight to first-class both ways? Oh yeah, I have a whole story to tell for each leg of the trip. I mean, people dressed for business look at you like you must be some rockstar, and the stewardesses used to always give me a bottle of champagne to take with me. (I was always the life of the party and made their trip fun.) This was also pre-911, and flying was still really fun.
Anyway, I have barely scratched the surface of the many adventures that took place during this trip. I am sitting here reminiscing about some fantastic times, as I often do these days. Though my life is entirely different now, I will always remember being young and really living. At least I do not have regrets that I did not really live. I have done some wild things and have some fantastic stories to tell. Thankfully, no one can ever takes away my memories of Saratoga.
– Rondym Kiefe