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Once in a while you guess right. As the horses left the paddock for Saturday’s Cotillion, the first Grade 1 stakes in Pennsylvania history, I started walking and editorially handicapping. Where was the story?

“Twelve and two . . . twelve and two . . . twelve even . . .” Graham Motion called the splits into his walkie-talkie as two horses worked a half-mile on the dirt at Fair Hill Training Center Wednesday morning. The sky was blue and high, the breeze was cool and even, the air crisp and clean. And the work was perfect. Last year’s Kentucky Derby winner Animal Kingdom continued his progression toward a return to the races with a breeze in company with Meistersinger – getting a half-mile in 48 seconds and officially galloping out 5 furlongs in 1:01 2/5.

The action at Saratoga Race Course ends every year on Labor Day, sending horses and people to their respective homes – Saratoga Springs, Glens Falls, Albany, Canada, Manhattan, Kentucky, Long Island, Maryland, pretty much everywhere.

Once more unto the breach . . .

The last page, the last words of another season of the Saratoga Special. You’d think I’d have this one in the vault, canned months ago, it’s easy, say goodbye in 800 words, I do it every year. But, alas, it’s the last thing I write for the 12th consecutive year.

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I’ll miss the trees. I won’t miss the hot son on the back of a navy blazer.

I’ll miss the cups of tea in the morning. I won’t miss the cups of coffee at night.

I’ll miss watching Bill Mott watch his horses. I won’t miss the trainers who don’t know their horses.

Kathy Ritvo watched Mucho Macho Man walk toward the barn after training Friday morning and oohed like a fan, not a trainer. “See those muscles up across his back? See them?” she asked. “Three months of jogging.”

John Velazquez knew it early.

On the way to the start for the Grade 1 Vanderbilt Aug. 5, Shackleford galloped next to his lead pony, slowly as always. Mud spattered above Shackleford’s socks, under his chestnut belly, head bowed. From the grandstand, he looked the same, but he was a different horse.

Todd Wyatt catapulted down the clubhouse stairs after Thursday’s first race, hugging friends like he just got home from the war. He came from the clouds, where he watched the race was anybody’s guess. Another trainer, watching a race in isolated agony.

While walking through the stable area, Donna Green stopped and thought about it, then painted the picture.