The body of a professional horse jockey is like that of a tree fog: stunted, wiry and atrophied. Plunked down in the dandy scene of horse racing, jockeys are foetal little beasts we secretly wish thoroughbreds could learn to race without.
Except when they attempt to kill one another.
Like at Friday’s Churchill Downs Breeders’ Cup Marathon, when some illegal bumping and grinding from rider Javier Castellano led Calvin Borel to come at him like a gibbering crackhead with a pituitary disorder.
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