In under a minute, they rolled out the huge tent and covered the fallen horse. My son, grandson, and I had come to Saratoga for three years, always the last Friday of the season. When Bandito, my grandson’s choice, tripped into the railing, wooden lengths flew through the air like cheap, white plastic. The crowd was silent, the Big Board was posting the odds for the next race. We never heard a shot. We three left our seats to walk the grounds, in three different directions. We knew we’d never come back to Saratoga. We would never watch another horse race.
Jim DeFilippi is an eccentric, prolific American author and novelist. Please visit his website at jimdefilippi.com. Jim is a Five Minutes Founding Contributor.