Much Ado About... Saratoga

Letter to Saratogians: September 2010 Archives

Dear Saratogians,

I don't want to be "that guy" anymore. 

That guy who feels all sorts of melancholy when the Saratoga meet ends.  Year after year it hits me hard, and year after year I let it.

I'm not gonna do it.

You can't make me.

You're not the boss of me and I'm just NOT going to do it.

Not anymore.

So there!

It's time I quit dreamin' and cowboy up.

Melancholy?  You go to hell.  There's too much in this town, too much in the capital region to let you stand in the way of me having a blast.

But - and there's always a big but(t) somewhere - I don't know where to begin.

I learned this summer there is so much more about Saratoga I need to explore.  So much about Saratoga I need to experience.  So much about Saratoga I have to see for myself in the autumn, in the winter and in the spring.  Not just in the summer.

But I need help.

Your help.

Where do I go?  What do you suggest I do?

When people come to Saratoga for the races folks say you must go to Siros for a drink; if you're the creative type you have to go to the Yaddo; if you have only a two-day stay make certain you breakfast at the track and take the tram tour to the barns.

But what are the "have to's" for Saratoga in autumn?

Where do I have to go to get the most glorious pictures of the leaves turning colors?  Where do I have to go to experience all the amazing stuff that the locals refer to as the town's best kept secrets?

What are the traditions of this glorious and beautiful place, rich with history and adorned with charm that I need to learn?

How can I best learn and experience them?

Saratoga, I love you.

I always have.  I always will.  Thus, I call on you to help me.  Point me where I need to go and I will forever be grateful.

I know what you know ... there's so much more to you than the greatest and most competitive thoroughbred racing on the continent.

But I don't know what you know when it comes to life outside of that.

Resigned to your wisdom, anticipating your suggestions, and hoping to understand what all of you have known for years and so many of us don't, I ask for your help.

Please comment here or email me at

~ Patrick

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Patrick Kerrison

While most American men of Patrick's generation grew up talking to their Dad about baseball and the likes of Mantle, Ford, Berra and DiMaggio, he and his father covered the racing beat and talked of Ruffian, Seattle Slew, Affirmed and John Henry.

The son of a newspaperman, Patrick spent his summers a "spoiled" child, but not in the traditional sense. Spoiled because his August months were spent at Saratoga Race Course watching the best the game ever offered.

Breakfast in the mornings, races in the afternoons and the occasional party when kids were welcomed in the evenings, he has lived a privileged childhood. For better than 10 years Patrick worked in varied frontside positions in racing, "living the dream" as he calls it.

Today at age 41, he reverts back to his life as an eight year old with the same passion and love for the town of Saratoga he always had, but with the perspective of an adult. His appreciation for her history and his desire to go back in time revives every summer, while never forgetting the glorious life he lives today. Patrick and invite you to come back to Saratoga's 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries and a little bit about today, too.