Ricky Rodeo

The Word Nazi has given me a directive to write a brief story about myself. I am supposed to write about an event or a time in my life that will be new information to most people. I had already found a loophole in this assignment, until he threw in the last part, "It has to be posted in the Blog". Damn he is good.

For this subject, I need to go back in time, way back, before I was entered into the Federal Witness Program. It was a long time ago.

I was working graveyards at the time so my evenings were free. On Monday and Wednesday evenings you would find me in Aldine Texas, at the Circle 8 Rodeo Arena. On those nights they had "buck outs". In a buck out, you would pay 5 dollars to ride bareback broncos', saddle broncos' or bulls. This was a way for rodeo cowboys to practice. There were usually no crowds. You just paid your money and you got to ride the bucking stock. Circle 8 was a run down, dilapidated tin building with a rodeo arena built in it. The arena was built out of oil drilling pipes. The pipes were old and mostly coated in rust. The lights that worked provided just enough illumination to make everything look depression era gray. The floor of the arena was a little bit dirt and lot bit manure.

I have to mention a couple of things about this. First and foremost, I was not raised on a farm, ranch or even near a petting zoo. My only background in rough stock was, well, I had no background. I honestly had no business thinking about riding in a rodeo, but it was something I wanted to try. There was always someone there to teach you what to do, so I watched and learned. For several weeks, I just went out and watched. I learned how to rosin up the glove, so the rope would not slip through my hand. And more importantly, I learned how to wrap the rope around my hand so it would slip out when the time came.

The other thing to mention is that the Circle 8 bulls were not the best. These were typically bulls that washed out of rodeo school. These bulls rode in the short yellow bus. They were missing some key attributes that prevented them from being used in real rodeos. Real rodeo being ones that people paid money to attend and they awarded prize money to the cowboys who won. Rodeo stock is a lot like baseball, they have major leagues, minor leagues and farm leagues. Circle 8 rodeo stock was almost farm league. The Circle 8 stock were not aggressive, they did not buck hard and most important, they did not chase you. Despite that, the first time I climbed onto the back of a bull, I was terrified. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my ears. My mouth was dry and I had tunnel vision. The first time I rode, I was bucked off within 1 second. In reality, I let go and baled off before the bull even had a chance to kick his hind legs. The next time, I hung on a little longer and made it 4 or 5 seconds. Gradually, my fears abated and I started learning how to balance, how to shift my weight and most important how to hang on for 8 seconds. After many months of riding, learning and improving, I started getting pretty good. At least when compared to the farm league bulls at Circle 8.

After those many months, I finally got the opportunity to ride in a real rodeo. The Galveston County Fair was coming up and they had the usual, carnival, livestock show and rodeo. The rodeo producers were out of Stephenville Texas and they were bringing major league stock. Several of the cowboys I had met urged me to step up and enter the rodeo, and possibly make some money. So, being the, not so smart person that I was, I decided to give it a shot. I paid my entry fees and my name was put in for the draw. The draw was where they would randomly pair you up with a bull. It is a chance system on which bull you get, that makes it fair to everyone. I pulled a bull named "Mushmouth".

Here is where terrifying comes in. As mentioned earlier, these bulls are major league. They are big, bad, mean and really, really pissed off. Yep,, definitely big. Here is a comparison for you,, Circle 8 bull = Mini-Cooper, Rodeo bull = Hummer . When these boys come into the corral, they are all bowed up ready to kick some butt. They are snorting, and clawing their hoofs at the sand. Their eyes are wide and they stared out looking for a target. My eyes were wide and I was looking for an exit. When they started moving these guys into the chutes, I was terrified. Each time one them got near the chute, they would kick the chute doors and the while arena would ring like a pipe was being hit with a sledgehammer. Occasionally a cowboy would have to climb up on a railing and push the bulls head so that the horns could fit through the chute. I was scared out of my mind. These bulls were nothing like the ones I rode at Circle 8. My mouth was as dry as sand. I felt like I had been chewing on cotton balls. I watched, no, make that stared as they brought Mushmouth into the chute. He was huge. He filled up the entire chute and he was not happy at all about being there. He moved back and forth in the chute. Each time he hit the back or front of the chute, it would clang really loud.

I tried to ease my mind by getting my rope ready. It was all an act,, the whole time I was rosining my rope, all I could think about was death, dismemberment and that it was all going to be witnessed by my girlfriend and some other friends who I invited. While I readied myself, Mushmouth continued to make as much noise as possible and at one time, tried to climb out of the chute. Okay, let me see if I covered everything, a) I am not a cowboy, b) I should never have thought I was a cowboy, c) bull is pissed off and) I am terrified,, yep that covers it.

It comes my turn to ride so I get on top of Mushmouth and start rigging my rope. Each time the rope touches him, he reacts with muscles that start twitching from back to front. Somewhat like a shiver that you can see as it moves from muscle to muscle. It is accented with a snort and an occasional attempt by him to turn around and bite me. Once my rope was ready, I slowly started lowering myself onto of this animal. They had to open the gate a few inches so that they could make room for my legs in the chute. I squeezed myself on top of him and started tying my hand into the bull rope. Each time the rope was tightened, Mushmouth would start quivering. These bulls know what is going on and this guy was getting ready to eat me. As soon as I was ready, I pulled myself down tight onto Mushmouths back, I tightened my legs and started squeezing so I could hang on as long as possible. Once I nodded my head, the gate would open and Mushmouth would jump out into the arena and try to buck me off. My job, hold on for at least 8 seconds without touching the bull with my free hand. My free hand was up in the air poised next to my ear for balance.

One other item to mention, it is not enough to expect a bull to buck when there is some nitwit riding his back, the rodeo producers use a cinch strap to help assist the process. The cinch strap is a rope that they put around the hindquarters of the bull. It is like a belt and it does not hurt the animal but it annoys the heck out of him.

In a perfect world, here is what would happen, I would cram my hat down really snug, I would keep my grip tight, nod my head vigorously. When I nod my head, the gate gets swung open and Mushmouth, suddenly having the freedom of the arena in front of him, would jump out. As he is leaving, the cinch strap gets pulled tight, he starts bucking, spinning, and twisting. Again, in this perfect world, I would hold my balance, pre-meditate his every move and counter his bucking, spinning and twisting. 8 seconds later, I am off and running to safety.

Unfortunatley, this is not a perfect world, and here is where things start unraveling. Hat is crammed, grip is tight, head is nodded, and the gate is open. Mushmouth shoots out from the chute with much gusto. He went straight out into the arena and had to have put 4 or more feet of air between himself and the ground. I was gripping with my legs and I was as inanimate as one of those plastic toy cowboys. I was flying with him through the air, I was ready for his front feet to hit the ground and start spinning. He did not do that though. What I did not know was that he shot out so fast, that they did not get a chance to cinch up the rope on his hindquarters. He basically had no reason to be mad since I weighed nothing compared to him. When he landed, he landed on all fours and just stood there. The two of us were frozen, I was sitting on top of a bull, shoulders tight, arm over my head, death grip on the rope, and he just sat there. No matter what, I get scored as long as I do not touch the bull so for 8 long seconds, I just sat there. The rodeo clowns threw their hats at him to get him to move,, he just sat there. I could hear the snickers from the audience. And then I hear, the sound of a bull urinating,, followed by more robust laughter. There Is nothing like sitting on a peeing bull in front of a thousand people, to bring you down to earth.

With my pride thoroughly pissed on, I hopped off and walked to the arena exit. I left Mushmouth standing there, staring at me. He eventually finished his urinating and he meandered out of the arena.

Not too long after that, I retired from rodeo.