IT felt free. Arriving in Saratoga this summer, it felt free. Almost like the old days when I threw a tack bag in the trunk of my car, a couple of sport coats hanging behind the seat, a wad of cash and a credit card in my pocket and headed north, the only thing guaranteed to lose was a security deposit on a summer rental.

Yes, it was free. Saratoga always felt free. Early mornings. Late nights. And epic afternoons of the sport’s best.