Saratoga: disciples gather at the cathedral to sing their heartfelt praises

Prettiest graveyard you ever saw. It’s a daydream of a day at Saratoga, blue sky, fluffy white clouds, enough breeze to keep the flags snapping, all set fair for the biggest race of the year at the old Spa track. It’s Travers day, the 150th running of the race they call the Midsummer Derby.

They call Saratoga the ‘graveyard of champions’ because some of the all-time greats have been beaten here – Man o' War, Secretariat, American Pharoah.

Some people don’t care to use the word in its figurative sense, though, such as the men and women standing outside the gates on Union Avenue with their megaphones and their placards and their mantras and their earnestness. No-one walking to the track pays them much attention, no-one reads their proffered flyers, two or three mutter something derogatory as they pass.