The pandemic lockdown continues. I was only there virtually through the benefit of the all day telecast brought to sports-starved fans through the TV stations FoxSports1&2, and MSG, sponsored thankfully by the sire prospects for the horse Run Happy, Claiborne Farm—where he proudly stands in the hallowed stall No. 1— and by Petaluma Farm Cheese. Thank God for sponsors.
At least NYRA doesn't see the hokey need to put cutouts of fans in the stands or leaning over the rail. There is no simulated sound and no there is no computerized CGI of someone ripping up a fistful of tickets.
In fact, ripping up tickets is pretty much a thing of the past considering the online betting and the use of vouchers and self-help betting machines. No one is going to drop their voucher on the floor after a losing race if there is still money on it.
A few years ago I sampled NYRA's creation of their Top of the Stretch section at Saratoga. It is a gussied up accommodation with nicer seats and food deliveries carved out of the unused seats at the very end of the track. It is hardly worth it.
I will always remember the poor teen-age girl sporting braces who found summer employment at Saratoga holding the long handled trash scooper and broom, stationed near the bathrooms, who had the boring job of sweeping up discarded tickets. She was there to keep the place clean.
She had nothing to do. I explained to her that no one drops anything on the floor these days, and that she was in for a long day of having little to do. I'm not sure I made her happy, but I did sympathize with her. At least she was getting paid.
Watching the telecasts from Saratoga I can only be frustrated. It's not enough that there are no plans to go there this year, it's that you can't go there. You're not allowed.
It is painful to look at the photos posted by the DRF photographer Barbara Livingston and turf journalist Teresa Genaro of scenes from the track. I know Ms. Livingston lives in a nearby town, and Ms. Genaro comes from Saratoga Springs and still has family in the area. It is home for them.
It's very odd to see Jose Ortiz take time after his race to lean over the rail and watch the replay, and then see him disappear under the stands to go back to the jocks room, unaccompanied. Saratoga's configuration requires the jocks to walk under the stands and travel a bit on the back apron to get back to the jock's room.
Security always bodyguards the jocks when they do this walk, but Saratoga fans hurl no insults their way. They want autographs. And the jocks quickly comply while walking back. There are even markings in the floor to guide the jockeys on the protected route to take. But no fans, no security needed. It's all very tame and very empty.
But, through the convenience of downloadable past performances and flat panel televisions, it is possible to at least be virtually at the track while sitting at home.
And Saturday was always my day to be there. Downstate there was one year when I first starting loving the game that I went to either Aqueduct or Belmont 31 times. And the season then only ran from March through mid-December. Saratoga's meet was only 24 days (6 days x 4 weeks) in the month of August. And back then I didn't go to Saratoga, and there was no TV coverage of a card like there is today. Sometimes things do get better.
No member of The Assembled was coming over yesterday. Johnny M. had other plans, and Bobby G. was at the beach house with the extended family with his toes in the sand. I did offer Bobby G. my handicapping numbers, but by the time he read the email most of the card was over. He had no betting interest anyway. He likes to be there. Jose I'm sure went to a Capital District OTB since he lives in Rockland. I'll hear from him eventually.
So, how did I do? In the old days there would never be 12 races on a card. And a Saturday wouldn't sport five maiden races. But you need maiden races to produce winners who can then qualify for the next level. And there were five stakes races, three of which were Grade 1s: The Personal Ensign, the Whitney and the fairly newly named H. Allen Jerkens that was formally The King's Bishop and usually part of the Travers card. But this is a unique year. So, there really were no complaints about "the card."
Midnight Bisou was the marquee entry of the day, and in the five horse Personal Ensign, the race that is really the Whitney for older mares, four and up. Racing loves symmetry.
Midnight Bisou is a formidable foe. She lost a close race in the Saudi Cup to Maximum Security, a male horse. All her wins have been in graded stake races. Her dollar odds are usually microscopic, and Saturday's 30¢ to the dollar was no exception. No show wagering. NYRA didn't want to risk the prospect of paying for a minus pool due to bridge jumpers putting so much money on her to show that they'd have to subsidize the pool to pay the $2.10 minimum required by law.
Our surely by now departed mentor, Les, "Mr. Pace" at whose knee we learned a great deal about the game ("pace makes the race." He said it so often we just called him Mr. Pace.) had a strong prejudice about the reliability of female horses to deliver when you wanted them do.
Les was older than us, and came from a strong prejudicial view of women and their abilities. So, he of course transferred that prejudice to animals. He pejoratively would just utter the word "fillies" as if he was spitting out the word "fuck."
He would forever tell us the story of Twilight Tear who lost her race in 1945 at 15¢ to the dollar—as part of an entry no less—who finished fourth at Laurel in a six horse field in the 16K Maryland Handicap, against males, on October 21, 1944, carrying 130 pounds over a muddy track, and the poor slob who then toppled off the roof (many tracks allowed viewing from the roof of the stands in those days) after a self-inflicted, well-placed gunshot wound to his head.
Twilight Tear was that era's Midnight Bisou, running 24 times with an 18-2-2 record. However, that day she was doing TWO things she had never done before: carry that much weight, and run on a gooey track labeled muddy. Pittsburgh Phil's rule would have kicked in and told any smart bettor to never bet on a horse trying to do something they've never done before. Pittsburgh Phil made a lot of money at the racetrack following his rules, posthumously published in 1908 and still worth absorbing today.
Twilight Tear was Les's proof that you can't trust a female. I've tried to verify Les's story about the guy topping himself, but could never find an account of it. No matter. It was urban legend for Les, and that's all the proof he needed.
So, how do I play the Personal Ensign, if I play it at all? I don't share Les's views on females, but I do know they usually all get beat, male and female. Saratoga didn't earn the nickname "Graveyard of Champion" for nothing.
I played some 50¢ tris that would yield some boxcar prices if Midnight ran out at 30¢ to the dollar, a thoroughly unlikely scenario since she was not really being asked to do anything she hadn't done before. She'd won at the distance, won at the track, and already carried the 124 pounds and won. She was a rocket launch waiting to happen. The paddock analyst Acacia Courtney described her in such glowing terms that she was Miss America, Ms Courtney herself once being Miss Connecticut.
But hey, they still have to run the race, and perhaps Midnight Bisou stumbles, or just plain doesn't have it today. I can't believe I thought along the same lines as Andy Serling and made a cold exacta bet with Vexatious over Midnight Bisou. I was thinking of Les, just a bit. Andy never met Less. He had his own reasons.
My reward was a $42.20 $2 exacta with Vexatious over Midnight Bisou after a stirring stretch drive. It's only the fifth race and I'm on Cloud Nine. I've got to do well, right?
Racing will treat you the same way if you're there or not. I saw Tom's d'Etat fall out of the gate and lose all chance of giving me my boxed exacta. I always call a busted exacta a bowling 1-3 split.
Then there was the DQ in the 11th race when it was ruled Sadler's Joy interfered with horses in the stretch. Sadler won at 8/5 but was taken down and placed fourth. You win some inquiries and you lose some inquiries, and it's never fun to lose them.
I usually need to cash in on three races to have a winning day. A .300+ hitter in baseball can win a batting crown. A .300+ bettor can make money.
But a frustrating day at he race—or virtually at the races—never prevented people like myself from coming back. And remembering Les and what he thought about fillies and mares.
Losing only very little is right up there with a winning day.
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