Behold, an article about a sixteen-year-old jockey Gary has taken under his extremely well-muscled wing. Took him into his home. Fed him (well, okay, that's not such a big deal, as apprentice jockeys eat, like, one-eighth of a pea a day to make weight.) Helped him get his jockey license. Continued the Jedi Master-Padawan tradition that probably helped him into the starting gate at the very same age. How keen is that. Sixteen. He's sixteen, and he has a full-time job in which, if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing, he could very easily kill himself and others. You know what I was trying to survive at sixteen? Algebra. Do you think it would be, like, weird if I joined the So. Cal jockey colony at age 26 and 130 pounds?
December 3, 2003