Ronnie Watson is in an oxygen tent in the ICU.  He tells reporter Tim Berryman he has incontrovertible evidence that Joe Kennedy is going to steal the election for JFK next year.  But the journalist really just wants to hear about the ghost story with horsies this woozy guy is telling with his last breath.

Ronnie recalls some years ago when, at 5’10”, he was the world’s tallest jockey (although that fact is not mentioned in the story).  He is having dinner with his pal, fellow jockey Sam Barry (a slightly more reasonable 5’5″) .  Ronnie’s girlfriend joins them.  Sam says tomorrow’s race is his last  He is retiring to open a bar in New Jersey where strangers would be welcome. ^[3] Oh, and he adds one other thing — he is marrying Ronnie’s galrita.  His what?  Oh his gal, Rita. ^[2]

Rita is 29 years younger than Sam and towers about 5 inches above him, so the jockey business pays a lot better than I thought.  Or they are drawn to the business because they have something in common with horses.

At the track the next day, Sam and Ronnie are neck and neck.   Later that afternoon, their horses are running even in the race.  Ronnie reaches over and tugs on Sam’s saddle cloth.  That is enough to throw his horse off stride.

Sam complains to the judges.  They are inclined to believe Sam since he is a veteran jockey with a clean record.  However, Ronnie points out that Sam had $10,000 bet on the race.  The judges let the results stand.  Sam socks Ronnie in the kisser and says someday the tables will be turned.

Over the next 10 years, Ronnie goes on to be a rich and famous jockey.  Sam is reduced to working for $10 per race south of the border, down Mexico way.  Ronnie tells his agent he is going to retire.  On the day of his last race, he sees Sam in the line-up.  As they are in the final stretch, Sam cuts Ronnie off and they both finish out of the money. ^[4]

This time, Ronnie complains to the judges.  They do not believe the story about Sam cutting him off.  Mostly because Sam died in a freak steeplechase accident in Uruguay yesterday, which is how I hope to go.  They even run a film of the race showing that Sam was not there.  In the footage where Sam’s horse veers off from the pack, they are alone.

C’mon, I’ll buy the occasional appearance of a dead colleague, or an image on a wall or in a mirror.  But riding a horse?  Before the race we saw a groom leading it to the gate.  Is the groom dead?  Is the horse dead?  Is the opera dead?  How about a horse-opera?

Cut back to Ronnie today in the ICU.  He is freaking out from the story he just told.  The nurse sedates him.  He asks if the journalist believes him, then dies peacefully.

I’m baffled by this framing device with the journalist.  It seems clunky and unnecessary. I’m not even clear why Ronnie is in the ICU.  He did not take a fall in the race.  Is this supposed to be many, many years later?  He looks like he’s been beat up, but he doesn’t look older.

On the plus side, either Alcoa was shelling out some big coin, or they appropriated some great film of the horse races.

Footnotes:

• [1]  In comparison, Willie Shoemaker was 4’11’ and Eddie Arcaro was 5’2″.  That is every jockey I can name.
• [2]  Blatant rip-off of the goonluca gag from Police Squad.
• [3]  OK, this means nothing to you, but it reminds me of something a friend in college said.  It was hilarious, so clearly this is not the time or place to repeat it.
• [4]  Link goes to “We’re in the Money” from Gold Diggers of 1933.  Yeah, it might seem corny, but wait for the close up of her singing in Pig Latin around 1:35.  It is impossible to not have thoughts of your great-great-grandmother that even your great-great-grandfather didn’t have.  Sadly, the focus-puller seems to have been pulling something else other than the focus.
• I was going to mock writer Don Mankiewicz for being the black sheep in a family that included Joseph Mankiewicz and Herman Mankiewicz.  But he actually had a fine career.  Plus no one knows who the hell Joseph Mankiewicz and Herman Mankiewicz were.