This is not to make fun of them. It is a solid observation from my years of going to Saratoga as a downstater. The upstaters come with refrigerator-like coolers, ice, and usually a racing sheet of some kind. They do handicap, but boy, do they ever eat.
Saratoga is their jewel. There are no major league teams of any stripe in the area, so when the racing season opens the racegoers also double as picnickers, racing to secure the unreserved picnic tables, take possession of the ones they bought tickets for, or, eschewing the table top rush, stake out a patch of well-worn grass or dirt, unfold some chairs and spread out.
For certain, not all these people play the races, but they are always with someone who is playing the races. Some roles are to be the chuck-wagon, or tailgate deli to feed those bettors in the group. Win or lose, they always seem to be enjoying themselves. Of course, winning brings out the biggest smiles and highest high fives and strongest fist pumps.
The eating frenzy is not necessarily confined to the back picnic area. They are many eating venues at the track, and people are seated and ordering food, or buying food from vendors and strolling around with it. Quite a few people are seen strolling with no food and no racing forms or tip sheets of any kind. They are just there, soaking up the fair ground atmosphere, people watching, taking in a race on the television, or strolling out onto the apron and trying to get a spot to lean on at the rail.
When I returned from the annual pilgrimage to the finish line, I had an appointment with a physician at NYU in Manhattan, a young pain specialist who I see for my bad back. I told him of my recent outing upstate, and that my back didn't really hurt as much as not picking winners with more regularity on the latest trip.
He laughed and told me he loves to go there. He went to Siena College in Albany and spent many summers strolling around Saratoga. I gave him the "look," and told him I could see him being part of all the youth I saw that was holding a beer in one hand and a blonde in the other. After all, he's good-looking guy with two hands.
Upstate, the trackside rail and paddock rail is chock-a-block with railbirds. Downstate, real birds far out number the patrons on any day but The Belmont Stakes, or a few selected giveaway days. You can hear the seagulls squawk.
On our last day at the races, Saturday, the Alabama, a tremendous, but typical thunderstorm rolled out of the mountains just as the 9th race was getting ready to be run and saturated the place. Anyone not under cover ran for cover. The rain was coming down sideways, and the outer rim of The Fourstardave (the old carousel area) was getting soaked fast. Being there, we quickly sought refuge at a more interior table. The place filled up with picnickers. The bar area filled up, and business there really picked up.
Johnny M. and I sat at a big round table that was probably meant for eight. But when they get late into the card the staff at the Fourstardave drops the wrist band entry requirement and all-comers can sit down. It's a great venue that you can order food and drink from—or not—and watch and bet on the races.
We've been buying reserved seats there for several days of our stay during the meet. We got tired of being boxed in in the seats in the stands, which are small, and the sometime aisle jumping we had to do to get past the patrons that planted semi-coolers in the aisle. Although coolers are not supposed to be allowed in the stands, patrons still manage to carry something to their seats that keeps their food and drink cold. They never stop eating in that place.
One pair of displaced picnickers was a husband and wife team, perhaps in their early 60s, who also sat at the table. The wife wiped it down, because it too was wet. I helped her. She looked like a retired school teacher. I couldn't peg an occupation on the husband who sat there wearing an Aussie-style hat. but they sat somewhat apart from each other, each with a racing sheet/form and were engaged in picking the winner of the next race, which at that point was the 10th race, the Alabama.
What I couldn't see was that they had also wheeled in between them (thus the separation) some kind of giant cooler. Something I would call an ice box on wheels.
At this point it's not lunch time, it's after 5 P.M. and perhaps it was their dinner time. Whatever it was, the husband pulled out a hefty supply of cold cuts and made himself a Dagwood sandwich, all while watching the television and looking at the odds.
The wife pulled out a Tupperware container of potato salad and plowed into that. Neither of them were heavy in any respect, but boy were they hungry. It was going to be hard to imagine they would go home and still eat supper. But, I certainly didn't ask.
Whatever, when Jose Ortiz won the Alabama and seemed to stand up early on Dunbar Road and start a fist pumping celebration, I remarked he was going to get fined for a celebration before crossing the finish line. Years ago, Jean Cruguet was fined for standing up in the irons before crossing the finish line in the Belmont Stakes in 1977 and completing the Triple Crown.
I heard Gary Stevens commented on Jose's celebration, which was as much precipitated by his victory as it was by his third straight Alabama win. Jose held up three fingers. Gary Stevens it turns out has won 9 Santa Anita Derbies, with none of the victories celebrated by a bit of showboating.
The replay of Jose approaching the finish line does show the standing up in the irons to occur after the finish line, but the fist pumping holding the stick was in motion before crossing the finish. Apparently, based on the website for NYRA, no stewards' ruling was made for the day's races to reprimand Jose, the leading rider at the meet.
Also, to me, what I don't like to see is the fist pumps jockeys sometimes give each other after they cross the finish line and run out with their mounts. This is generally between the top finishers, and to some might give the appearance of collusion between jockeys to rig the order of finish. It has no place in racing. Fist pump in the jocks room, out of sight of someone who might have lost a close race with significant jack on the outcome (That's not me.)
A crowd at the races is a wonderful thing, and something you won't see downstate on any day other than a few special days. More people attend minor-league baseball games than races at Aqueduct or Belmont. From the stands,—the third floor at Belmont, no less—you can hear the crack of the crop as the horses approach the finish. There is no sound of a crowd to drown out the sound.
And patrons aren't the only thing missing from the races. Horses are as well. Joe Drape, in his NYT story before the Travers, lays out the massive decrease in horses bred. The Lake George Stakes at Saratoga, with a $150,000 purse was recently run with three entrants. All trained by Chad Brown.
The race was originally carded for six horses, but Wayne Catalano didn't bring his horse in, and trainers scratched two horses. Weather was not a factor. The race was carded for the turf and run on the turf.
Despite all the entrants being trained by Chad Brown, the horses ran as three betting interests due to three different ownership interests. Years ago, common ownership and common trainer, would require the horses to be coupled in the wagering. The rule went back and forth over the years, and now because of the lack of sufficient horses, common trainer is not strong enough to require an entry. Common ownership determines if an entry is required. Even if there are different trainers for the same owner, the horses run as an entry.
Years ago the three entrants in the Lake George with a common trainer would have been forced to run as a single betting interest. 1, 1A and 1B. I distinctly remember a Cragwood Stable entry that went to four horses and a 1X designation. Imagine a race with one betting interest race! Talk about singling.
Five horse fields are almost common. To NYRA's credit, there was only one 5 horse field carded for the four days I was there. Despite being given more calendar days to race, NYRA kept the number of races in the meet to its now usual 40. This meant going dark on Monday as well as Tuesday; not a popular move. But it proved to be the right one.
The handle is way up from other years, and with a robust handle, you don't necessarily need a record number of patrons. The upstate attendance is driven by a race-going tradition throughout the area, and its social aspects.
NYRA has wisely re-jiggered its Pick-6 format and turned it into a jackpot format that pulls money away from each day's handle to build a jackpot to be paid on mandatory payout days, and when there is a single winning ticket. Other tracks have something similar.
They have also lowered the takeout on the wager, as well as lowered the minimum bet to 20¢ from the traditional $2 for the old Pick-6. A base 20¢ bet allows those interested in placing Pick-6 wagers to lob in more permutations for their attempt at a payout. It's even gotten me interested in putting a ticket together.
There is no need to worry about the future of racing when mid-July rolls around and the calendar tells the area residents that it's showtime upstate.
The only worry is will they have enough to eat?
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