I am re-posting some photos that I had up on the board that went away. In the early 90's I worked for AutoTote as a computer operator and made every day of racing at Aqueduct, Belmont, and Saratoga. Before and after I had a racing license as a NYRA mutuel clerk. Way before then I used to attend the races with my father.

August 9th, 1992 was opening day at Saratoga and the troops were out to make certain that all of the lights worked on the ancient AmTote boards. They worked from electro-mechanical relays from the 1930s through a cable that was melded into a Dec mainframe.

That's why the numbers on the board do not make sense in the photos. The numbers and the bulbs were being scrolled and pumped to make sure everything worked. Other than management the biggest problem in the infield was an an enormous gander. We had people over the infield in the morning and this crazy goose bastard had his harem in the lake while sqwauking.

After the third race we had a bulb or two out that made an "8" look like a "3" on one of the boards for the place price. I go out. There are light bulbs in the board so I just go through a gate on the grandstand rail. Over and under the turf rails I go until I get within 30 feet of the tote board. Out from behind comes this screaming gander with his wings spread out about 4 feet each way (it seemed). He throws himself into me and pecks at my thighs and even got up into my chest. I gallop into the tote board unhurt but I understand something that should be inherent upon every man alive:

You must stay away from goose p***y. After my job was done I peeked out of the rear of the board and saw the gander pecking at grass half-way between me and the girls on the lake. He knew where I was and he was setting up a defense between me and his hens.

I knew from Marine Corps combat experience that he would not abandon his defensive position as a single to run down an intruder going the other way. I galloped off. He spread his wings, charged, yelled a bunch, and then backed off when I got under the rail of the outer turf course.

If you're not laughing you never will but this is one of my true stories.

Mid or late 80s - I'm working a window at Saratoga, grandstand, the last one on the right if you walk in there, ground floor.

A young man shows up and buys $50 win tickets for every horse in the race. I ask him if he understands that he's ripping every ticket except for one. He tells me that it's going to be worth it when he hands a $50 win ticket to the girl he's with.

Yups, there ain't no place like Saratoga.

In 1969 I am 21 and not many months out of service. I win some money in a poker game on Friday night and decide that I am going to drive my '61 Rambler (3 on the column) up to Saratoga. My cab driver friend (Al Ovalle, Korea, U.S.M.C) is going with me.

We get there and spank a $43 winner in the first race that goes home by nine lengths.

Me: "That's us Alfie!"

Al: "Something good?"

Me: "Really good."

Al: "Will the horse drive my cab Monday morning after I sober up?"

Going home Sunday the '61 Rambler gets stopped for speeding. Alfie is driving. He tells the trooper that he has stopped two former United States Marines and that he's not wearing his glasses like his license says he should because they bother his eyes after several days of drinking.

The NY state trooper says, "Just go. I'm a Marine and maybe somebody further south will snag you. Just go!"

In '92 up in the computer room (grandstand up in the catwalk under the roof) we see that somebody is betting thousands off an enormous voucher or two - $200 and $300 exactas cold and huge win bets. We know the SAM and it's just underneath our catwalk and across the floor. Shortly with binocs we see the plays and see the clown making the wagers.

He's a bum in his 20s with a load on out of a very wealthy New York family. He's losing C-notes like I scatter Washingtons at the races.

Anybody that equates huge money at the windows with knowledge needs to be hit with a stick, especially at Saratoga.

Was 1992 the last season with a 4 week meet? I've been going since '93 and always remember a July opening.

I'm not sure but I do know that the meet is too long now.

That day I was working with a part-time AutoTote employee out of Texas who was a Korean vet flyer on a B-26 bomber. He was a radioman and gunner and was one of the funniest people I ever met in my entire life. I am so sorry that I have forgotten his name.

A drunken gal went over and under the fences and got across to us and screamed out that she was happy to be at Saratoga. She lifted her T-shirt to flash her breasts. The fellow from Texas stepped up, snagged her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger and cried out, "Come in Tokyo! I'm tuning the radio as best I can!"

I absolutely collapsed with laughter.

I have so many good memories of going to Saratoga with my Dad. I was his best buddy. We took off every morning to work the farm until about 11, then off to the track. Always went to the harness track backside for something to eat before heading across the street. For 2 bucks you could could get anything you wanted. We had a friend named Roberta. She was a black lady, a big black lady with hugh boobs. One day she asked me who I liked in a race, I told her Blue Chickens. Actually the horses name was Blue Cheakers. The horse was 40-1. She said darling, if that horse comes in that is 2 weeks pay. I had 3 bucks to my name, and asked her to play 2 bucks to win for me. She came back with my ticket, and she played it too! My dad showed up before the race and said he had the winner nailed. Couldn't lose. Roberta said, better go play our horse as a back up. My dad was not a long shot player, so he never played the horse. This is where it gets fuzzy. I remember Roberta grabbing me when the horses turned for home, putting my face between her boobs as she was jumping up and down. As I started to lose much needed air, she picked me up off my feet, started kissing me, and was screaming I won, I won. My dad was sick and broke. He cashed my ticket and gave me back half. He called it a lone. I called it room and board.

I remember my first trip to Saratoga with pop like it was yesterday. I was 16 and had nailed the pk 6 a week earlier at otb on a 2 dollar bet (5115). The next day after that pop hit a Julie Krone pony on the lawn at 20-1 and as the horse went by the half mile pole with a 53 half and a 5 length lead he said come on were going to collect and we are going to Saratoga Wed.
I walked in and was in awe on the beauty of the track. Dad brought me right to the spring water and said it was the best stuff on earth. As I gagged he laughed and said I just had my toga Cherry poped.
First race was a jumper race and the 2nd was a 35k claimer if I remember. In the 2nd we loved Fabersham with Mike Smith up and he played a 5 Dollar D/D all with Fabersham. A 60 dollar winner from france won the first leg and we were living large in the D/D. Pop asked me if we should save or hit Fabersham. I said pop I didnt come here to save, Lets go for the Gold and we did with 20 ex's and WP good. Fabersham won and we were set. The rest of the day and night is a fog. All I remember from the rest of the day was alot of beers and a Saratogian woman groping me at the harness track that night. Boy did we have fun!

Another moment I had there was Travers Day when Unshaded won. I started the day with like 400 bucks and couldnt pick crap. Michele (x wife) and I are there by the jockey room for the whole day getting autograpks and stuff for my little girl. Talking to Sam the Bugler b4 the Travers and I am touting Unshaded big time with bout 6 MTP and he says I'm nuts. I liked to horses that race and Albert the Great was the other. I had a 10 bx with them both, tri with both 1-2 with all. Also had a 20 cold Unshaded over Albert and 25 WP on Unshaded. They were the 6 and the 9. Down the lane I am screaming at the TV give me a lick give me a lick 6-9 6-9 mother fuker. Give me a fuking lick!!!! Everyone is looking at me like I am nuts. Ex paid 97 bucks and tri was super. Not to mention the great WP bet. I might have gone over board but wow that was an exciting duel down the lane. Very good memory.