Last weekend I judged a two-day dressage show at a cathedral of American sport, any sport, not just horse sports. The show was held on the backstretch at the Saratoga Race Track, a gorgeous setting by every measure.
Famed sportswriter Red Smith once described directions to the Saratoga racecourse: "From New York City you drive north for about 175 miles, turn left on Union Avenue and go back 100 years." Dressage horses danced on the same strip of land pounded by Man ‘o War, Secretariat and Seabiscuit. It was built during the Civil War, and the history of the race track proclaims that it’s the oldest surviving sports venue in the U.S. Beautiful mature trees shade the lovely old wooden stables.
Even in this lovely setting, I felt that some of the horses were, well, more tense than usual. Maybe it was the riders who were tense for their first show of the year, or the crisp spring air, or typical show nerves, or warming up and performing on a race track rather than an enclosed arena. In my own fancies, I projected that the auras of the many horses who’ve been here in decades past still float about and the horses had a sense of them.
I used to live near the Upperville Horse Show grounds just west of Middleburg VA and I would hack my event horse there. This fellow was generally nonplussed about everything, but he was always more up on his toes as we strolled around the empty rings under that glorious canopy of trees. We both seemed to feel that there was a “presence” of other horses around. Or maybe just smells lingered behind long after the crowds of horses departed. The published history of the Upperville show says it dates to 1853 and is the oldest horse show in...
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