THE INSIDE RAIL | by Sean Clancy

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Where will you be Monday?

Saratoga? Belmont Park? At a desk? On the lake?

Chris Humber will be at Les Landes, Jersey. Not New Jersey, the island of Jersey, in the Channel Islands, 19 miles off the French coast and 85 miles south of the English coast. Humber will become the first person to pull the Saturday/Monday-Saratoga/Jersey double. Humber came to Saratoga to cheer on his filly, New Providence, in the Ballston Spa Saturday evening. Sunday night, he will fly from New York, land at Gatwick Airport Monday morning, catch a plane to Guernsey, then fly his plane to Jersey for closing day of the season at Les Landes.

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A writer asked me last week about American Pharoah coming to Saratoga, back when his appearance hinged on a breeze.

“Do you want him to come here?”

And, in one word, well two words, I had crossed over to the dark side.

“Not really,” I answered.

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Coming home from Deadline 26 Wednesday night, I stepped onto my porch and noticed that something looked different. I thought, ‘Did they trim the bushes?’ as I stepped over a forlorn golf cart charger, it laid across the porch like an IV drip, pulled from a dead man’s arm.

My golf cart was missing.

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All I hear are birds. That’s it. I don’t know what types of birds, maybe a blue jay in the tree next to me, a swallow hopping along the edge of the porch, a hummingbird, for sure, in the yellow flowers, flits. Round wooden beams, rails and posts frame my view, there is only one place for Adirondack buildings and that’s in the Adirondacks.

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Kip Elser called me after watching Walter May’s production of “This was Racing: An Evening with Joe Palmer” at the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame Friday.

“You’ve got to go see it,” Elser said. “It’s brilliant, the way he uses his phrases . . . the way he paints the scene . . . the way he . . .”

Over the years, I’ve read Palmer’s book, a collection of columns and features from his writing at the New York Herald Tribune between February 1946 and Oct. 31, 1952 (the day he died with an unfinished column in his typewriter), in any number of ways.