Aaaaaaand they're off at Saratoga!

Today began the 136th season of live racing at Saratoga Race Track, and also marked my 5th consecutive Opening Day. Booze, women, gambling and cigars...how can you lose?

I got to the track shortly after the gates opened and parked in the Preferred lot. This was my first adventure. Preferred parking used to be the blacktop lot across the street. But no...that's now the "Clubhouse VIP" lot. Preferred is the grass/dirt/mud lot next to it. It's essentially the same as the free parking, but it's closer. Still the same muck and shit to trudge through, just less of it. I will say this: the illegal alien working in the lot was very friendly.

Rather than pay the usual $3 for Grandstand admission, I opted for the $5 Clubhouse. It has always been my impression and understanding that in order to go to the Clubhouse, one needed to be dressed "nicer" than that for the Grandstand. No shorts, collared shirts, etc. Evidently I was mistaken, as it became apparent that any schmuck who could collect an extra $2 in cans could get in. Let's put it this way: a shirt and shoes are required for the Grandstand. I thought that some people in the Clubhouse would have at least put on a clean shirt if they weren't going to wear a collar. With every trip to the track, I get to see more and more pieces of what I like to call "Americana."

They call Saratoga "The Graveyard of Favorites" because of all the longshots throughout history who have won there. Upset beat Man O'War in the 1919 Sanford Stakes. Even the legendary Secretariat couldn't win at the Spa. So they say bet the longshot and avoid the chalk. Lemme tell you this: the longshot will win, unless you fucking bet it. You bet the longshot and the favorite will set a track record. It's a lose-lose situation. Understand this when you walk in.

Walk in knowing what you're going to bet. Buy The Daily Racing Form the day before and read it, study it, and handicap it. Why? Simple. Once you start drinking overpriced Bloody Marys, you won't be able to see straight enough to read the post performances and the rest of the tiny print. Not to mention you'll be even more distracted by the plethora of semi-legal coeds walking around...

Random celebrity sightings: Wellington Mara (owner, NY football Giants), and Rod Stewart. Rod Stewart was wearing a blue seersucker suit with a pink shirt and pink tie. He's probably one of three people in the world who could actually pull it off, one of the remaining two being Steve Radochia.

Random celebrity encounter: Jimmy Fallon. Spoke with him in the Clubhouse after the ninth race. Really nice guy, very goofy. He went to the College of St. Rose, the same place Nick went. After Nick passed away, Jimmy put on a show for the students there in his memory. And when it was all said and done, he refused to accept the money that was promised to him as an appearance fee. I'll always admire him for that.

I saw a young kid walking around in a "BC Superfan" t-shirt. I really felt that he needed to get his ass kicked. It's not that I wanted to do it, but I felt I owed it to him.

I walked past D. Wayne Lukas's private Clubhouse box. There was some kid, my age or slightly older, sitting there with him with a phenomenal blonde to his right. This once again proves that money talks. I found myself continually asking, "Why wasn't I born rich instead of handsome?"

Some random BU sightings: Elliot DeSanto and Kevin Hoeltschi. Saw Elliot in the Clubhouse with some family. He made the trip up from Jersey, spotted me a beer and a pick in the 5th race. Kevin was with his family walking in while I was heading to my car to drop off my umbrella. Always a good time whenever you see Guido. And on a side note, what a bullshit weather forecast that was. There were clouds...which all burned off...and it got hot as balls.

Looking back, I should've asked Jimmy Fallon if I could just walk around with him and take whoever he rejected...

Usually they always have the young, non-legal girls working the different food and beverage stands throughout the course. Purely by chance, I'm sure, the really attractive ones are all working in the Clubhouse. Looking back, it somehow makes sense. But why the hell didn't I figure this out before? I'm definitely losing it...

All in all, Opening Day was just as fun as I remember. It wasn't until the sixth race when I hit an exacta for $30 that I actually cashed a ticket, but that didn't matter. It was Opening Day. And I'd be hard pressed to think of anyplace else that I would have rather been.