The Show

Ah… Saratoga. Once the crown jewel of summer racing, a cathedral to the sport’s golden echoes. Now? It’s become something else entirely. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Saratoga has become Barnum & Bailey with starting gates. A soap opera. A carnival dressed in tradition, where the only thing tighter than a jock’s silks is the grip the hype machine has on reality.

“The bigger the humbug, the better people will like it,” said P.T. Barnum. And my God, did he ever know Saratoga. Because nothing surprises anyone anymore. Not the rides. Not the weather. Not the stewarding that feels more like a roulette wheel than a rulebook.

And through it all, there is one constant: the horseplayer gets shafted. Again and again, insulted by inconsistency, disrespected by decisions, and asked to smile while reaching deeper into their pockets. A blown DQ here, a head-scratcher of a ride there, and somehow we're all supposed to nod and say, “That’s just Saratoga.”

But here’s the twist—the kicker, if you will. They’ll keep coming back. The fans. The dreamers. The punters clutching battered tickets like prayers. Because Saratoga has something no other track does: romance. A mythos. It feels like magic, even when the wand is bent and the rabbit’s long dead.

Horse fatalities swept under the rug, daily, the lack of willing reporters in reporting the truth and the facts has virtually disappeared like they ventured into the Bermuda Triangle.

I spent a decade there. And I loved it. Loved it fiercely. The mornings at Oklahoma, the sunsets behind the paddock, the stories whispered in the clubhouse as if racing were a secret too sacred to say aloud. But now? Now I look at it and see… a stage. One where the script changes mid-scene and no one tells the audience. It’s still beautiful, still draws a crowd, but the magic feels manufactured, now.

This post encaptured the feeling of many:

I’ve grown cynical, yes and its because of the inaction and apathy from the power that be that are more worried about the bottom line and personal relationships than doing the right thing. Perhaps age, perhaps clarity to boot. Or perhaps just the realization that the show will go on, no matter how many get burned under the spotlight.

I even coined a phrase—a bitter little souvenir, “What happens at Toga, stays at Toga.”Because the chaos, the nonsense, the bad beats and baffling rulings… they all get buried in Saratoga’s myth. Forgotten like a bad night at a Vegas casino, but my handicapping will take the results and the happenings at Saratoga this summer with a grain of salt. All of them. I am going to happily play against these winners at the Spa in 2025 when they return to reality outside of the scope of the current jurisdiction.

But let’s not pretend anymore. The circus is in town. The popcorn's stale, the acts are tired, but the tent is still full.

This is the aerial view of the start of the Jockey Club Gold Cup. A Graded Stakes race for a place in the starting gate in the Breeders Cup Classic:

The head on of the start shows how many horses were interfered with and mostly eliminated from a fair start and chance:

White Abarrio had two riders on his back for a second or two, the 6 horse - Contrary Thinking, the rabbit for Sierra Leone in the race - was forced in before setting off to his duties, out of the field of 8, the only horse to escape the incident, you guessed it the winner, Antiquarian.

Yes the only horse unaffected was the winner, others compromised in some way. The one that was deemed the culprit was the 7 horse, Phileas Fogg, who started the chain reaction by coming in sharply in his haste to to beat the 6 horse Contrary Thinking to the lead, and all hell broke loose.

Then there’s the post from HorseWhisperer—an account that, unlike many in this echo chamber of noise and misinformation, dares to say what others won't. And they got it exactly right. Not kind-of right. Not "well, there’s room for interpretation." No. One hundred percent correct. And if the stewards had even a flicker of interest in integrity, they’d frame that post, not flag it.

What we witnessed on Sunday wasn't just a questionable ride or a missed call—it was confirmation. Confirmation that the circus is not only in town... it runs the town. Riders making decisions that would draw a suspension in any other jurisdiction, but here? Here they get a pat on the back and a "better luck next time."

Because, you see, the Gold Cup still carries a name that fools people into thinking it means something. Like an old restaurant that used to have a Michelin star. It still has the sign, but the chef’s gone, the kitchen’s a mess, and the food? Well... you’d be lucky to survive it. Irad was lucky.

And the most tragic part? the audience claps anyway. Because Saratoga has always been about romance, aside that Saratoga sucking the air out of every other track during the summer, And people are too wrapped up in what used to be to confront what is. It’s easier to look away. Easier to say, “Ah, racing luck,” than to admit the clowns have taken over the tent.

The replays don’t lie. The post was spot on. And yet, nothing will change. Nothing ever does, how do we overcome this handicap as horseplayers and students of the game.

We often discuss about being positive, ignore the noise, but how can we be positive when every summer its the same bullsh*t, and it really comes down to solidfying my, or your own position that you have to appreciate the tracks that work on making it right, say what you want, the Kentucky product, Churchill, Keeneland, Turfway and Ellis, are the tracks that resonate more in me, and that's me, my personal feeling. If these things were happening at a CDI facility the vultures would be descending in an fully armed F-16 with the go ahead to engage , but its not CDI, its their beloved Saratoga, mums the word.

My recommendation for those of us whom love racing like me and want it to succeed, is taking what has happened at Saratoga and let it remain at Saratoga, I will find a way to beat those horses in MY plays, those that will come in with this high expectation and the weight on their shoulders from the manufactured show.

The hype has matched and replaced the info on the toteboard, with social media influencers being paid to hype up as horse, or a day, even the toteboard is affected. Horses are being bet because someone is being paid to crank up the hype machine.

Let them flood the pools. Let them push the price down on overhyped runners with underwhelming resumes. Let them chant into the algorithm, deflate odds, distort the market. Because while they’re busy chasing attention and imaginary internet clout, we’ll be sitting quietly in the weeds… waiting.

Because here's the truth: Manufactured hype is the enemy of the disciplined horseplayer. Why ? It creates false favorites it creates false ideas of relaity. It drowns sharp information in noise. And best of all? It creates overlays—those rare, beautiful moments when a real horse goes off at a price that defies logic, we need to be all over it like a Pizza Margarita fresh out of the oven.

the Staff and I put our heart and soul in this game, everyday, i can't remember my last vacation or day off, we live and breathe, the game, the industry withou fanfare. I know you do as well and you do as well. All of you.

So to the influencers and the fantasy stable stars, I say: keep posting. I will pay no attention to the circus, go ahead and hype to your heart's content. Brag about your Pick 3s, your “can’t lose” locks, your screenshot parlays. Collect your likes and your shallow dopamine. Because while your followers are bleeding bankrolls, we’ll be cashing tickets… and smiling quietly.