“Jimmy,” my uncle said to my cousin, “take Johnny to the track.”
My uncle took out some crisp bills from his wallet. I was visiting from Vermont and from their home in southwestern Connecticut, we could reach Yonkers Raceway in under an hour. It was a completely new experience for me, getting exposed to horses, harness racing, and wagering. I was learning new terms like “win”, “place”, and “show”. The memories of that day have stayed with me.
Fifty years later, I found myself in central New York, experiencing a quintessential August weekend. The skies were adorned with high clouds, the sun was shining brightly, and the humidity was low. As we were making our way back home to Vermont, my wife and I decided to fulfill a longstanding wish – visiting the Saratoga Race Course in August.
Initially, we bought tickets for the grandstand but soon discovered that the real allure and charm of the place lies in the grounds – the family picnic spots, the paddock, and the rush to the rail when you hear the call for the next race.
With the first race, we got a taste for the excitement. Intrigued, we decided to take a tour. It was fascinating to learn about the different jobs at the course, the riders in red who accompany the horses and jockeys to and from their positions, and the rider in red and white who comes into action in the event of a problem on the track.
During the third race, my wife placed a bet but unfortunately, her horse didn’t win. For the fourth race, I went to a betting window. Originally, I intended to bet on the three and four horses, but the number four horse had been scratched. As a result, I placed my bet on the three and six horses. I was advised to bet on the jockey, so I took that into consideration while studying the day’s program. The kind lady at the betting window noted that my bets were conservative and therefore, possibly safe. We made our way to our mid-grandstand seats, which offered a wonderful view of the track and the brilliant blue sky.
The fourth race had a small field and the horses were running on the inner grass track. The TV screens showed the horses entering the gates on the far side of the track. As they took off, we couldn’t see them yet but we followed their numbers on the screens. When we expected them to finish, they surprisingly kept going for another lap. Clearly, we still had much to learn about racing.
As they approached the final turn, we focused our eyes on the leading group. Although it wasn’t a major race or a large field, the excitement grew as the horses neared the finish line. The pack was right in front of us.
Then, out of nowhere, we heard a loud moaning of hundreds of voices. I turned to see what was happening – a horse was down.
The crowd gasped in shock. The jockey lay motionless on the track.
A chestnut horse managed to get up, but it had lost its purposeful gait. It moved aimlessly towards the inner rail’s shrubbery, its movements halting due to an injured left foreleg.
The rider in red and white quickly rushed to attend to the injured horse and fallen jockey.
We decided to leave our seats immediately. The race had just finished seconds ago. We had heard rumors of a horse going down the day before, but we never expected it to happen again, especially on our first visit to this unique place.
An ambulance arrived on the track and then a large blue screen was set up on the field of deep green grass.
The jockey, who had lain still on the track for several moments during the final turn of the fourth race, answered the call of “riders up!” in the paddock for the fifth race.
I went to a betting window. My two ten-dollar bets to show had yielded $33, but they also left me feeling empty and saddened. It turned out to be Ever Summer’s final race.
John C. Mahoney resides in Burlington, Vermont.
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