Cup of Coffee: It’s Time

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It started out as a lark, and has grown into a tradition.

Time for the annual I’ll miss it, I won’t miss it…

I’ll miss turf works. I won’t miss the sirens.

I’ll miss the Morning Line Kitchen girls. I won’t miss the Morning Line Kitchen bees.

I’ll miss the jumpers. I won’t miss the bashers.

I’ll miss the vets. I won’t miss the vet scratches.

I’ll miss The Reading Room. I won’t miss the traffic trying to get in the Reading Room gate.

I’ll miss Charlie LoPresti. I won’t miss the look on Charlie LoPresti’s face after he said goodbye to Kris Royal.

I’ll miss the big screen in the clubhouse. I won’t miss the little screens in the clubhouse box seats.

I’ll miss the Chief. I won’t miss the cheats. 

I’ll miss the music in the streets. I won’t miss the drunks in the streets.

I’ll miss the front window of Lyrical Ballad. I won’t miss the corner marred by what used to be Borders.

I’ll miss the Adelphi, the Rip Van Dam and the Saratoga Sleigh. I won’t miss the next round of condos, high rises and chain stores being built.

I’ll miss going to the races. I won’t miss sitting in the office while the races are being run.

I’ll miss the office atmosphere. I won’t miss the office.

I’ll miss the appreciation for quality. I won’t miss the watered-down product.

I’ll miss my nephews. I won’t miss saying goodbye to my nephews.

I’ll miss the golf cart. I won’t miss the belly I’ve developed after riding around in the golf cart.

I’ll miss Laird George. I won’t miss George Street.

I’ll miss Graham Motion’s crew, smiling first thing in the morning. I won’t miss Long Avenue’s crew, lurking behind our office last thing at night.

I’ll miss reading Tom Law’s features about the horses and the horsemen each day. I won’t miss hearing Tom Law’s features about how far he ran and how far he biked each day.

I’ll miss the first slice of pizza. I won’t miss the third.

I’ll miss the few times I ate out. I won’t miss getting photos of friends and family while eating out.

I’ll miss the dead heats. I won’t miss the deadlines.

I’ll miss seeing a jumper prospect in the paddock. I won’t miss seeing that prospect being claimed by Ken and Sarah Ramsey.

I’ll miss seeing Claiborne’s ad each day. I won’t miss the fear that we lost Claiborne’s ad each day.

I’ll miss Pletcher’s brilliance. I won’t miss Pletcher’s dominance.

I’ll miss the workers. I won’t miss the slackers.

I’ll miss the trainers. I won’t miss the pretenders.

I’ll miss working with my brother everyday. I won’t miss pressuring my brother everyday.

I’ll miss the good horses. I won’t miss the sore horses.

I’ll miss the clockers. I won’t miss the clock.

I’ll miss looking for the next fastest horse. I won’t miss being asked about the next fastest horse.

I’ll miss asking the questions. I won’t miss transcribing the answers.

I’ll miss playing one new word on Words with Friends with my mom every night. I won’t miss falling asleep with Words with Friends on my chest.

I’ll miss the conversations. I won’t miss the confrontations.

I’ll miss turf racing. I won’t miss cheap turf racing.

I’ll miss the look of the turf course on opening day. I won’t miss the look of the turf course on closing day.

I’ll miss the Henry Street Taproom. I won’t miss my friends calling me and asking me why I can’t meet them at the Henry Street Taproom. 

I’ll miss the left turn into my driveway every night. I won’t miss trying to make a left turn from Broadway.

I’ll miss Hattie’s in the evening. I won’t miss cheese tortillas in the microwave at midnight.

I’ll miss the jockeys walking through the crowd. I won’t miss the jockeys being second-guessed by the crowd.

I’ll miss the creative process. I won’t miss the distribution process.

I’ll miss writing. I won’t miss being told what I should write. 

I’ll miss the daily energy of The Special. I won’t miss the daily pressure of The Special.