Spa-Five-O
- Bruno@Racingwithbruno
- 6 hours ago
- 2 min read
Ah, yes… Saratoga. Or as I like to call it, the Summer Serenade of Speed, drama and Suspense.
The smell of just-cut grass on the Widener—that intoxicating perfume of chlorophyll and history. The grill smoke rising from Hattie’s, mingling with the dreams of punters and pros alike. And then—ah, then—the crisp snap of a freshly printed winning ticket. A tangible whisper of fortune. Yes, my friend, The Spa is open, the drama is about to begin like Erika Kane on the All My Children.
You see, Saratoga is not merely a racetrack—no, it's a cathedral of possibility. A place where legends rise, fall, and sometimes pay $27.50 on a second-choice flyer in the last.
Five top-choice winners out of eleven? That’s not handicapping—that’s clairvoyance with a dash of humble bravado. Sprinkle in three second choices and only one miss, that fleet-footed ambush in the 10th by Jimmy Ryerson—oh, the audacity!—and what you’ve got, my dear companion, is not a day at the races. It's a declaration. It's a SPA-Five-O day.
And Race 4 to Race 7? That’s not a streak—it’s a sonnet. Moon Gate at $16.00? Sweet music to my ears. A little inside nod from the racing gods themselves. Then, in the finale, with our top choice scratched, our second stringer seizes the lead and never looks back. Like a thief in broad daylight. $27.50? Call it the cherry jubilee.
As old Jack Van Berg once told me—leaning back, a twinkle in his eye, boots on the rail—"I’m not as stupid as I look." And wasn’t he right? Gentleman, horseman, philosopher. Saratoga used to fit him just fine.
Now, the workout reports through Sunday? Let’s just say… they whisper things. Horses catching the eye, moving like whispers in silk. It’s only going to get better from here.
So buckle up. The Spa doesn't ask for your permission—it demands your attention.
