'Small' Takes Racing to Center Stage in a Big Way

Who could have predicted that more than four decades after his death in a racing accident at Pimlico Race Course the jockey named Robert Pineda would become the star of a celebrated play? But there he is, alive and well, embodied by the remarkable Robert Montano in his sublimely staged production of "Small," now being performed in the round at the Sheryl and Harvey White Theatre in the Old Globe complex of Balboa Park in San Diego, after a run off-Broadway in New York. "Small" is billed as a one-man show, but that one man wrote the show and speaks through half a dozen main characters—including his irrepressible Puerto Rican mother—along with a supporting cast of racetrack denizens that will ring true to anyone who has ever spent more than a day behind the scenes of the Thoroughbred world. It is Montano's relationship to Pineda, however, that permeates the autobiographical story of a young Long Island, N.Y., kid who became so entranced by the racing scene that he was driven to desperate, dangerous lengths to fulfill his dreams of becoming a professional jockey. Dreams, though, are not the same as destiny, and over the arc of the story, the young Montano finally realizes the difference. Montano plays Pineda with the grace and professional rectitude of a romantic matador, bestowing upon Montano's version of his younger self the older rider's benevolent guidance and protection. Pineda would have been in his early 20s when he encountered Montano, well on his way to a respectable career that came to a tragic end May 3, 1978, at age 25. Three years earlier, Pineda's older brother, Alvaro Pineda, was killed in the starting gate at Santa Anita Park. These sad facts are known to anyone who has done their due diligence as a committed racing fan. Thoroughbred racing is a blood sport that courts danger at every turn. At a performance of "Small" this week, I felt an urge to warn my fellow audience members of what was to befall the admirable Pineda character as embodied by Montano. The death of Alvaro Pineda also is played for its impact on the stubborn young Montano, who has yet to don the white pants and silks when he reads the news. (Full disclosure: I was on the publicity staff at Santa Anita Park on the day Alvaro Pineda was killed and was tasked with writing the story. If ever I needed to heed the words of Graham Greene—"There is a splinter of ice in the heart of a writer"—that was the day.) When Robert Pineda was killed, ripping another son from a loving family, I was traveling though France on a pilgrimage of cheap hotels and racetracks. It was weeks before I learned the game had claimed a second Pineda. "I guess I didn't hear about Robert Pineda until I got back to New York from Kentucky," said Steve Cauthen, who had been otherwise occupied in Louisville, Ky., that week winning the Kentucky Derby (G1) with Affirmed. "Robert had left New York to ride in Maryland by that time," Cauthen said. "But later, when I went to California, all those guys could talk about was how great a rider Alvaro Pineda was. They worshipped the ground he walked on." Cauthen has been among a core group of riders who have known Montano through the years and are encouraging friends and fans to find "Small" whenever and wherever it plays. Cauthen caught it in New York while visiting one of his daughters, a theatrical performer, and is doing what he can to bring the play to his home state of Kentucky. "I probably crossed paths with Robert back in the day, but I really reconnected with him the year Funny Cide was going for the Triple Crown and I was at an event, signing posters," Cauthen said, harking back to 2003. "Then about 10 years ago I heard he was working on turning his experiences into a play. "I thought it was a good idea," Cauthen went on. "I had to go through all that with my weight and had the same feelings about how long I could ride. Weight was gonna eventually be an issue for me." Cauthen dealt with the challenge by heading to England, where he became a champion jockey in a racing culture with a more accommodating scale of weights. In 1994, he was elected to the racing Hall of Fame in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., and in 2023 he became the fifth jockey named to the newly formed British Flat Racing's Hall of Fame, joining Lester Piggott, Frankie Dettori, Pat Eddery, and Willie Carson. Like most of us close to the sport, watching "Small" unearths deeply held memories of our youngest experiences with the atmosphere of the racetrack. For the theatre buffs who are not racing fans, however, "Small" presents a clear-eyed look at why the game is so appealing, in spite of its uncomfortable corners. Its themes are as universal as those offered by Eugene O'Neill or Tennessee Williams. "It's the real meat and potatoes about horse racing," Cauthen said. "It's about wanting something so bad you're willing to put your life on the line, and what you're willing to do to succeed. Some of them wanted it just as bad as I did. And even then something gets in your way, and you might not get the chance. What did he ride, five or six races?" Seven. And after Montano's seventh ride—as played in "Small"—he hemorrhaged so significantly from his mouth, nose, and ears caused by abuse of diuretics and purging that he finally surrendered his dream. "I gave it all I had," says the young jockey at the end of the last ride. "And it wasn't enough." Montano folded away his white pants and became a respected exercise rider on the New York circuit. He regained a healthy weight, and then, in a revelation played for show-stopping drama, he discovers that the world of dance has been waiting for him all along. He went on to a successful career on Broadway and in movies and television, dancing and acting his way to a life that was meant to be. "It all starts with a dream," Cauthen said. "And once it's in you, it stays. It's still in me now. He realized he couldn't do it and ended up being great in something else. "At the same time, it's hard to let it go," Cauthen added. "I bet if he could, he'd ride a race tomorrow." The dark side of the profession has been much in the news lately, especially with serious injuries to such well known jockeys as Ryan Moore, Brian Hernandez Jr., and Carol Cedeno. As noted in the film "Downhill Racer," being a professional athlete means "sacrifice without end." Encountered after his final preview performance, his back still damp with sweat from the tour de force, Montano was asked how much weight he dropped in the course of the 105 minutes he commanded the stage. "I don't know," Montano said. "But I feel like I could ride a race right now."