Robert Montano Photo by Valerie Terranova

Montano (who both wrote and performs the piece) recalls how he fervently prayed to be tall while growing up on Long Island. At just four feet, six inches and weighing a mere 70 pounds, he was an easy target for the bullies in his seventh-grade class. For 13-year-old Bobby, his height was not just an inconvenience; it was a liability.

When his spendthrift and semi-religious mother, whom he describes as "a five-foot, spicy, blonde, Puerto Rican woman," takes him to Belmont racetrack for a quick gambling fix, he sees that being small might prove to be an asset: He can become a jockey.

Through some fortuitous circumstances and with the luck of his paper route, he secures work at Belmont Park tending to thoroughbreds, assisting trainers, and hobnobbing with jockeys. Under the paternal mentorship of professional rider Robert Pineda, Bobby eventually mounts a racehorse and in short order is on track to be an apprentice jockey.

Puberty, as they say, is a bitch, and Bobby's own body stymies his dreams of bigtime horseracing. As he gradually inches upward and the pounds accumulate, standard diet and exercise prove insufficient to prevent disqualification, forcing him to resort to terrifyingly extreme measures to keep his weight down.

By the time he turns 20, it is clear that he is not physically cut out to be a jockey. Pursuing his other great passion, he embarks on a different career–and a new way to punish his body: He'll train to be a professional dancer.

Montano is an ingratiating and thoroughly engaging storyteller. The figures from his narrative emerge both from his skillful vocal characterizations and, even more adroitly, from his precise and dancerly physicalization. Every gesture, every placement of a foot serves the character and the situation. In sum, Montano exudes a youthful and exuberant energy, and his decades of performing are evident in the refined fluidity of his movement.

Still, the early scenes recounting his tumultuous Long Island upbringing with his spitfire Puerto Rican mother and heavy-drinking, frustrated-artist father feel like a less edgy variation on John Leguizamo's early autobiographical works. While these early segments seem a bit rushed and overly choreographed, the play becomes truly compelling and utterly harrowing once Montano moves into his Belmont experiences. In particular, the reenactment of his draconian weight-management methods is almost unbearable to watch, and his ability to perform this night after night is a testament to his impressive stamina–and apparent penchant for masochism.

He receives superb support from a top-notch creative team. Director Jessi D. Hill maintains excellent pacing right through the final stretch, guiding the monologue through its last dramatic turn. Christopher and Justin Swader's scenic design, which evokes a horse stable, is remarkably adaptable, while Jamie Roderick's lighting provides suitable drama. Finally, Brian Ronan's ingenious sound design beautifully captures the sonic sensations of several nail-biting horse races. The production has been performed around the country (including at 59E59 Theaters in the summer of 2023) in the past few years, but it comes across as fresh and as urgent as ever.

As a transplant from Upstate New York, I was pleased to see that Saratoga plays a crucial role in Montano's trajectory. A random, incidental encounter in a dance club permanently altered his career and, as Small demonstrates, big changes often come from the littlest things.