He comes whooping and whipping out of the starting gate, a pale-faced kid who fights for the lead right at the start so that no challenger will spoil his view of the pot of gold waiting at the finish line. His body high and forward, weight over the horse's withers, boots in two of the shortest stirrups in racing, he is a jockey in a hurry. He is strong enough to ride all afternoon, and he applies the measure of cold cash, not sentiment, to his work. Shrugs Jockey Bob Ussery (rhymes with fussery): "If I ride in the Kentucky Derby,...
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