As I write this in Oceanside on Travers Day morning, thousands of people are packing into Saratoga Racecourse to get a seat for one of the greatest racing events of the year. I don’t want you to take me for a slouch. I’m a fervent table gatherer at Saratoga myself, having made the run countless times on annual trips to the Spa. Even for me though, those at the track today strike me as radicals.
There will come a year where I eventually go to the Travers and brave the capacity crowd. There are also days when I envy racegoers who can go to Saratoga whenever they want, and there may be a moment later today where I feel that same way. But as I brave the dawn and toss and turn on my couch on Long Island, writing to all of you this morning, I must admit that I’m rather content.