Whips, Cockfights, and Racing’s stage managed indignation

Starting pieces with lines I admire has long been my tic—though “enjoyed” lands poorly in this context—so I’ll tee it up that way, as usual.

“Triple A is cute; I carry four A’s: Animal Abuse, Animal Cruelty, Animal Torture, and Animal Abandonment. Keeping quiet isn’t in my DNA, not for any of them.”

“Triple A is cute; I carry four A’s: Animal Abuse, Animal Cruelty, Animal Torture, and Animal Abandonment. Keeping quiet isn’t in my DNA, not for any of them.”

“For evil to prevail, it merely requires the good to sit idle.” Often linked to Edmund Burke, attribution debated.“Now and then, remember the agony you avoid witnessing,” Albert Schweitzer.

“For evil to prevail, it merely requires the good to sit idle.” Often linked to Edmund Burke, attribution debated.

“Now and then, remember the agony you avoid witnessing,” Albert Schweitzer.

From the CAW’s to the stewards to the tracks, the noise comes nonstop, and at some point the meter hits full. Think of a week with three inquiries in a row.

Every now and again, a clip or screenshot pops up online that makes you ask what this game truly represents.

Recently, a circulating, unverified X video—people claim it features a prominent rider at a cockfight—shows not a bystander but someone in the thick of it, apparently hustling wagers like a seasoned regular. I can’t vouch for the source, I can’t confirm the face, and I’m not issuing verdicts from a fuzzy phone recording; frankly, a deepfake would be the best outcome here.

Even so, the truth of the file isn’t required for the point I’m about to make.

Should a top U.S. jockey be mixed up in cockfighting in the year 2025, it isn’t merely a “bad look”; it’s a moral, ethical, and legal train wreck—for that person and for horse racing.

Pretending otherwise just spotlights how performative this industry’s “integrity” and “animal welfare” rhetoric can be.

To start with the law: cockfighting is banned across the USA, including Puerto Rico

Let’s retire the “maybe it’s legal there” dodge immediately; that fig leaf doesn’t fit.

Under federal law—7 U.S.C. § 2156 within the Animal Welfare Act—it is illegal to sponsor, exhibit, purchase, sell, ship, or train animals for fighting, and simply to attend such an event is also a crime. Congress tightened the statute back in 2014 so that mere spectatorship is chargeable on its own, with tougher consequences when minors are brought along; think of it like criminalizing ticket-holding at the scene.

This framework binds every U.S. jurisdiction, Puerto Rico included. Carve‑outs once existed for territories, but Congress erased them, and the First Circuit has affirmed that Puerto Rico is treated as a “state” under this provision; federal courts have rejected efforts to carve out exceptions.

Puerto Rico took a run at it anyway. Its local Gamecocks Act labeled cockfighting lawful under local rules, positioning it as a sanctioned tradition. Supreme Court. Promoters sued to block Congress’s reach on cultural grounds, but the Supreme Court declined review, leaving the federal prohibition intact.

What does that reveal about the situation on the island? In short:

• Legally, federal authorities and the courts have said it’s prohibited, period.
• Culturally and politically, many residents still embrace it as heritage and would prefer to keep it alive.

You’re looking at a place where local law casts it as a cultural right while federal law labels it a crime; that friction is real, and some local officials occasionally signal defiance of the federal rule. Center for a Humane Economy.

For anyone licensed to ride in the United States, however, the conclusion is not complex.

Cockfighting is illegal under federal law everywhere in the U.S., including Puerto Rico, and showing up as a spectator is itself a chargeable offense.

Cockfighting is illegal under federal law everywhere in the U.S., including Puerto Rico, and showing up as a spectator is itself a chargeable offense.

That’s before we even wade into the ethics. And honestly, even if some corner called it lawful, what would that change about the cruelty?

Animal cruelty is not “off‑duty behavior” when your license rests on animal care

A rider’s credential and livelihood rest on a single premise: animals are placed in their care. We expect decisions at roughly forty miles per hour in tight traffic, and we impose fines, days, and hearings over one extra whip strike or a late drift by half a path—for example, a careless tap after the wire.

We stamp “for the good of the horse” across policies, pressers, and protocols.

Set that next to cockfighting and see what happens.

These bouts aren’t bravado or some “old school” rite; they are engineered stabbings with knives or gaffs fixed to legs, where birds maim or kill for gambling spectacle. That’s not just my take; immigration cases have treated a conviction under the federal animal‑fighting law as a crime involving moral turpitude—legal code for inherently depraved conduct. Picture, for clarity, a basement ring with cash changing hands.

Let’s be plain about the contrast:

• If a jockey knowingly attends or engages with a cockfight, that aligns with criminal animal cruelty and illicit gambling.
• If a jockey taps a horse one time beyond a tightly policed limit with a foam crop, that draws a monetary penalty and a brief suspension.

Infractions with whips live inside a regulated sport; cockfighting lives outside the law entirely.

You cannot preach love for the horse while shrugging at a rooster’s torture. The job calls for an animal‑welfare mindset, not species‑specific empathy; once you normalize cruelty in one arena, it bleeds into how you regard animals elsewhere, even subconsciously.

The two‑step: easy optics get over‑policed, hard choices get sidelined

Racing gravitates to tidy, low‑risk optics, the kind that read well in a release.

• We’ll block stalls and quietly blacklist folks deemed “undesirable” for ruffling feathers or pressing regulators.
• We’ll convene stewards to parse a slam‑dunk DQ like it’s a seminar.
• We’ll hammer a rider for a single strike over the crop limit.

So where’s that same vigor when the topic shifts to cockfighting?

If a tweet can brand someone “detrimental to the best interests of racing,” what label fits a licensee credibly linked to an animal‑fighting enterprise? If stall space gets yanked over ownership structures or regulator critiques, what happens to a participant who treats cruelty as nightlife?

We cannot live on both sides of the fence:

• Off-track: “Well, perhaps cockfighting is culture; maybe the clip is old; you’re reading too much into it; don’t rush.” GTFOH
• On-track: “We care so deeply about animal welfare that we’ll micromanage the last tap on the crop.”

Either animal welfare is a north star or it’s a marketing slogan; there isn’t a middle lane for sports integrity.

Illegal gambling and integrity: this is no footnote

Racing needs wagering to exist, yet it only survives when the betting is regulated and trustworthy; think audited pools and know‑your‑customer checks.

Now, as a hypothetical, picture a headline rider:

• Counting cash by hand,
• Booking side wagers informally like a private ledger,
• Standing inside an illegal cockfighting pit.

That’s more than “optics.” That’s a licensed wagering actor showing comfort with outlaw, unregulated betting built on animal abuse.

If you own a six‑figure runner, do you want that decision‑maker steering in traffic for your barn? And if you bet, how much trust do you place in someone who treats underground fights as just another evening gig? Consider, for instance, a pick‑six hinging on their choices.

We bench people for less under the banner of “protecting the integrity of the wagering product.”

Due process matters. Drawing a line does, too.

I’m not pronouncing guilt on any rider from a file I didn’t capture, authenticate, or see tested in court. Deepfakes exist, context can be warped, and, yes, people lie.

So if a video like this surfaces and carries credible signals, what should the industry actually do?

• Acknowledge it– Not a stonewall. Offer a clear statement that the matter is being reviewed.
• Investigate quickly and professionally– Obtain the original file if possible; interview the rider and any identifiable parties; if deepfake concerns arise, use forensic analysts.
• Tie it to clear, written standards– Rules should state that sponsoring, attending, or participating in animal‑fighting ventures is conduct detrimental to racing and grounds for discipline up to license revocation.
• Be transparent with the outcome– If it’s phony, say so publicly and with evidence; if it’s genuine, publish the penalty and its rationale.

Due process is not a shield for inertia; it’s how we land on the truth. But it is not a synonym for paralysis just because the facts are uncomfortable.

You can’t claim the moral mountaintop and look away

If racing wants the public to believe we cherish the horse, protect the horse, and regulate “for the welfare of the animal,” we don’t get to silo animal cruelty. Public perception notices the inconsistency.

You cannot do the following and keep credibility intact:

• Issue thousand‑dollar fines for a single extra crop pop,
• Seize crops at the jocks’ room entrance,
• Pound the table over whip protocols,

…and then avert your eyes when a marquee licensee wades into a blood sport that Congress and federal courts deem criminal, cruel, and beneath basic decency.

We ask fans, owners, bettors, and officials to trust that the game is cleaner, safer, and more humane today. That trust is brittle. One video of a major figure at a cockfight—if authentic and ignored—can crater credibility faster than a dozen press releases can repair it.

My bottom line

I’m not here for popularity contests, and outside a small circle I don’t care who approves. I care about animals, and I speak plainly. If you’re fine with cockfighting, dog fighting, or bullfighting, you and I won’t align.

So here is the simple takeaway:

• If the video is fake or misrepresented, say so loudly and prove it; anyone falsely linked deserves a full, public clearing.
• If it’s real, and a leading jockey is attending and running bets at a cockfight in 2025, then the conclusion is unavoidable: a person who voluntarily joins an illegal animal‑torture and gambling operation cannot be trusted to represent a sport built on animals.

Whip counts are debatable. Trip trouble is debatable. Ride quality is debatable. We can argue those sunup to sundown.

Cockfighting isn’t a gray zone. It’s unlawful, it’s cruel, and for anyone whose career rests on “love of the horse,” being anywhere near it—on camera, off camera, placing wagers, or spectating—is, at best, a terrible optic and, at worst, a disqualifying look into character.

Yes, in places such as the Dominican Republic, cockfighting is legal, with dedicated arenas, which might remove the illegal gambling element; it does nothing to soften the barbarity nor redeem the character of those who partake or endorse it. That’s an ethics question, not a venue question.

I hope it’s a deepfake. I hope it’s bogus. But if it isn’t, and racing shrugs, then we’ve told the world exactly what our “animal welfare” messaging is worth: nothing at all. Not a cent.

And don’t feel conflicted thinking it’s about the cock alone—it isn’t about the lobsters either; plenty of us have celebrated a big score with a boiled tail, which is its own mirror to stare into.