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Anne Poulson asked the question. Barclay Tagg answered. Then Summer Patriot backed it up.

Edgar Prado crossed the scales and walked halfway across the winner’s circle after Monday’s featured Union Avenue before stopping and taking a deep breath.

I ran into David Mullins at the Cheltenham Festival, 2002. He gave me a burly handshake and we hustled to the parade ring to see a Mullins horse run in the hurdle finale.

Larry Jones began murmuring to Gabriel Saez as the field turned down the backside in the Alabama Saturday. Like a father spelling words to himself as his son spells them on stage in a spelling bee, the trainer half pleaded, half instructed his jockey.

Two years ago, Grand Couturier arrived in trainer Bob Ribaudo’s Saratoga barn. The English-bred, French-raced 3-year-old came with plenty to like (four wins and a 2-length defeat in a Group I) but did little to endear himself to his new trainer.

Larry Jones ducked through the gap after handing off Proud Spell and began walking along the apron, through the crowd gathered between the benches and the outside rail. His white cowboy hat gives him away; he signed autographs, shook hands, accepted good wishes from old men, young ladies, teenagers.

On closing day last year, a steeplechase guy stopped by Shug McGaughey’s barn; gave the trainer his card and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

McGaughey wasn’t ready.

A year later, he’s ready to win the $500,000 Sword Dancer with Phipps Stable’s Dancing Forever.

Larry Jones circled the stakes barn early Friday morning and fumbled with his cell phone like a rookie fielding his first NFL punt.

“Larry, you need a hand with that?” an onlooker asked.

Jerry McKlenin said it.

“Breed her to Big Brown.”

The woman yelled from her cardboard blanket, disheveled and surrounded by newspapers and popcorn boxes. She yelled at anybody who walked past. A can of Bud Light in one hand, she pointed with the other and barked unintelligibly at anybody who came into view.