The Riddler
Angel Cordero Jr. leaned forward, hunched his shoulders, squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, clenched his gnarled fingers and made that ancient, tried and true signal for a horse to go.
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Angel Cordero Jr. leaned forward, hunched his shoulders, squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, clenched his gnarled fingers and made that ancient, tried and true signal for a horse to go.
OMG did you see Enable’s race?!?
I received that text from Sue Sensor at 11:06 Saturday morning.
“Ooooo…hhhhhhhh”
The word, er, utterance, stretched from the time Danny Gargan started down the steps from the box seats until he made it to the winner’s circle. The fedora-adorned trainer followed it with a sentiment that said it all.
Horse Haven. The name says it all.
It starts with a father talking about his son. It ends with a son talking about his father. In between, well, it’s the story of a struggle, a mistake, a lesson, an opportunity, an escape and a whole lot of faith.
Once upon a time I watched 13 races at Saratoga Race Course.
It goes like this.
Rusty Arnold’s phone rings at 10:30 in the morning. Every morning. For 27 years.
I stop every year, sometimes in a hurry, sometimes on a stroll. Sometimes with Miles and Annie, sometimes on my own. Sometimes, I buy something. Most of the time, I browse, looking for nothing and always finding something. This year, it was the first dark Tuesday, after a haircut, I walked up the incline of Phila Street and into Lyrical Ballad, the timeless bookstore that has served the town of Saratoga like an old guard, an old friend.
“You’re going to do well here, bud.”
“Thank you.”