Old valets. Young valets. American valets. European valets. An Australian valet. Champion trainers. Claiming trainers. Assistant trainers. Jockeys. Retired jockeys. Jockey’s kids. A two-time champion steeplechase jockey. A mailman. Turf writers from five, maybe six decades. Broadcasters. A daughter. A son. A wife. In laws. An old white-cap friend from the first day. Waste-high children with goggles over their eyes, perched on their heads and pulled down below their chins like they just went a quarter mile in the slop. Baseball hats and sport coats. Flip flops and loafers. Family members and a thousand friends.
The chant started singularly and gradually grew.
“HAR-REE…HAR-REE…HAR-REE…HAR-REE…HAR-REE…HAR-REE…HAR-REE…”
Harry Rice stepped out of the winner’s circle after the third race, his race, Friday afternoon. Tears had come and gone and were coming again. The veteran valet retired in April after 49 years in the room. Joe Aitcheson Jr., Jean Cruguet, Mike Smith, Blythe Miller, Ramon Perez, Rajiv Maragh, Chris McCarron, John Grabowski, Mike Luzzi and Lane Luzzi were a few of the jockeys who called Harry’s corner home.
The last of the lifers.
The 67-year-old New Yorker began to wind his way through the clubhouse to a picnic-table enclave where the celebration started and would continue, along the horse path near the paddock.
Elvis would have gotten there faster.
“Harry, I’m Mike, I worked with your brother. I came up with my kids 20 years ago and you treated us like kings and queens,” Mike in a blue T-shirt said. “You’re a gentleman. You’re a gentleman. Congratulations. We didn’t know, we just came for the day and heard the announcement. We said we had to come down to say hello. You can tell just by your friends how much you’re loved.”
“Thank you,” Rice said. “Thank you.”
Rice introduced The Special to Mike and his friends.
“You’ve got to go pick up one and read it,” Rice said.
Typical Rice, a sidekick to the end.
“It’s great to be back. I miss the people. I just miss the people,” Rice said. “It’s not only a person’s livelihood, it’s their life. These guys gallop horses in the morning and work all afternoon. And they all love doing it. That’s the thing. I just miss the people.”
Retired jockey and now valet, Nick Santagata, gave Rice an arm shake.
“Hardest working man here,” Rice said.
“You sure you don’t want to come back?” Santagata asked.
Rice shook his head.
No chance. A 49-year-old odyssey has come to an end.
“I was getting too old to run around with the horses,” Rice said. “It’s a young man’s game. I’ve had a great run.”
A couple of bettors stood up from their chairs and clapped for Rice.
“Harrrrrrrrry,” one bellowed.
Rice nodded and waved as he walked past the shoe-shine stand.
“You see the same people every year. That what makes this place so special,” Rice said. “The first couple of days every year, you go around and look for them, ‘He’s here.’ ”
Rice has always been here.
Rice signed an autograph, something about paying a bill at Mama Mia’s.
“Congrats,” the autograph recipient said.
“Thank you.”
Nine minutes later, Rice made his way back to the celebration in the picnic area.
“Want a sandwich? A pretzel? We’ve got good soft pretzels,” Rice asked. “Soda? Beer? We’ve got everything.”
Rice introduced his brother-in-law, Jimmy Mazzarella, who apologized for blowing up the conversation.
“If you need a little overtone about Harry, he’s a guy who’s never said no to anybody,” Mazzarella said.
Pretty good overtone.
Rice took a deep breath, handed me a “Cheers to Harry’s Retirement” beer koozie and walked into the center of the circle.
“This is the whole Staten Island contingency,” Rice said. “One person I have to thank the most is my wife. You know how hard you work, how many days, you’re never around, you miss everything, and she did a wonderful job with my daughter, Meghan, and my son, Harry. I got her to thank. I never worried about anything. That’s the key.”
And what’s the key to a rock-star Saratoga sendoff?
“Longevity, I guess,” Rice said. “You give goggles away and they like you. People come up and say you gave goggles to my son and my grandson. I had to hustle 20 sets of goggles today. Seeing all these nice people…”
Tears welled up again.
“I wouldn’t have done it any other way. I had a chance to work as a pressman, but the papers were starting to fold and I liked the track,” Rice said. “My father was a security guard at the winner’s circle and one thing led to the next. You just love it. You get up early in the morning, you go to the track, and you build a life.”
I gave Rice a pat on his blue short-sleeve shirt and said goodbye.
I’ll miss the red one.
