My first day at a Thoroughbred race track was August 27th, 1979: General Assembly’s Travers. My family had moved to Saratoga the summer before; my brother and I were barely teenagers.
To Saratoga kids, the track was a social scene. What to do on an August afternoon? Go to the races. We knew that we’d see our friends there, and many of us found summer jobs in some element of the racing industry: at the track, at the sales, in the barns.
Through college and after, the summer tradition occurred. Did we bet? Sure. But that was only part of why we went to the track. Grabbing a picnic table in the backyard and dipping into a well-stocked cooler were as indispensable as an opinion and some cash.
