Goin' to the rodeo

Had the unexpected delight of attending the Lakeside Rodeo last weekend with my sister and her family.

It’s strange to think that I have lived in San Diego my entire life and have never been to this spectacle before.

A beautiful sunshiny Sunday afternoon with hordes of folks in cowboy hats, plaid shirts and “cowgirl bling.”

And I must say a plethora of handsome chiseled cowboys and sparkly rodeo queens with pearly white teeth.

My sister procured me a cowboy hat that used to belong to my Dad and with a chapstick in one pocket and a 5 dollar bill in the other, I figured I was all set.

The arena consisted of rows of metal bleachers set in an oval around a field of very pungent earth with tons of banners advertising cars, Bud Lite, Boot World and tractor companies.

Now I am no stranger to the idea and art of the rodeo.

Since my parents were born and raised in America’s heartland, I have cousins and kinfolk strewn all across Texas, Oklahoma and New Mexico.

One of my cousins was a rodeo queen and her husband a rodeo bronco rider.

I remember that even as a youngster I thought he must have some sort of diaper rash or at least an unruly thong problem because he always walked kinda hunched over with his legs apart.

After watching the show at Lakeside, now I know why.

In case any of you are not hip to this sport, the rodeo consists of different events which spotlight the skills these cowboys and cowgirls possess in regard to riding, roping and barrel racing.

The first event was the bucking broncos.

Apparently a long time ago, a bunch of cowboys were bored, sitting around a campfire whittling and playing their harmonicas when one of them said, “Hey, I have an idea,  Let’s tie a piece of leather around the gonads of this horse and then try to ride him!”  “We KNOW he would HATE it and that would make him try to buck us off and stomp us to death with his huge hooves!”

 “It would be fun!” 

“We should do it!”

And then one of them said, “And I can time it and see who lasts the longest before he is thrown face first into horse poopie!”

“YEAH!!!  LETS DO IT!!!”

And thus rodeo was born….

Kind of an early version of JackAss.

So in the middle of the arena is a series of chutes where they load the horses for the ride.

The bronco rider climbs onto the back of the horse, settles himself in, and then they open the gate and start the timer.

As I said before, the reason these horses buck is because a large strap is tied across their family jewels and cinched up good and tight.  Obviously this tends to make them cranky and want to shake off the offending gonad squeezer.  This is done by leaping into the air as high as possible, kicking and spinning wildly until the strap is dislodged from their private parts. It seems perfectly logical to me that you would want to place yourself on the back of the horse during this process.  I mean a ton of horseflesh mad as a hornet and loaded for bear is not dangerous at all.......oooookaay.

One by one they challenged the mighty steeds. 

Arms in the air, chaps flying, struggling to keep in the saddle.

The score was always the same.

Horse: 1……Rider: a face full of meadow muffin.

Oh, and the riders vertebrae are compacted to the size of a mini Slinky.

Hence the diaper rash walk.

Next we had the calf roping competition.

This is where they release a calf from a gate and immediately chase him on horseback so they can throw a rope around his neck and yank him to the ground.  The rider then jumps from his horse and ties three of his legs together so he can’t move and lies flailing around on the ground until he is released.

Heifer humiliation.

Now this livestock is well taken care of because these animals are how these folks make their living and they need healthy ponies and cattle to put on the show. 

But I had this sudden mind flash of the stadium being filled with cattle and horses, sittin’ in the bleachers, drinking milk, watching humans play their rodeo parts.

A guy is released from the chute running like the wind with a cow on horseback close on his heels.  The cow throws a rope around his neck and jumps off the horse to tie both his arms and one leg behind his back.  As the air horn goes off the cow walks away muttering, “NOW lets see you try to take a swig of that Bud Lite with your hands tied behind your back, hotshot!”

But the most dangerous and fascinating event by far is the bull riding competition.

Basically you take the bronco riding event and multiply the danger factor by 1000.

Massive testosterone secreting mountains of flesh with humongous pointy horns and an attitude.

First of all they are put in pens to await their turn, which it’s a known fact that bulls hate to be kept waiting.

Second of all, they obviously had plans for this Sunday afternoon which did not include a cowboy sitting on their back AT ALL, more less for the enjoyment of a crowd.

They had big doins’ going on at the local bull bar, chatting up the local ladies and eating hay.

Now before I go any further let me just say that I am not four, (well sorta) and don’t usually joke about such things. But by far the most impressive things about these incredible creatures is the size of their huevos. 

Just picture two personal watermelons slung into Shaquille O’Neal sized fleshy tube socks and that just about covers it.

No wonder they have attitudes.

I noticed some of the bull riders have Indy 500 style helmets to protect their noggins but I was thinking that you need a hockey mask steel contraption to protect your face as well.

Cuz take my word for it. If these gigantic flesh bags accidentally come back and smack you under the chin it’s going to be “malts through a straw” for at least 6 months.

This competition featured 7 riders and last approximate 30 seconds.

All of the riders except for one were immediately rocketed skyward the second the gate opened.

I imagined the bulls inner dialogue with each rider.

“Take that, pretty boy.”

“Is this really what you wanted?”

”You’re done.”

“I told you I was having a bad day.”

“I see a rodeo clown over there with my name on it.”

“You just don’t get it do you?”

All in all it was a lovely afternoon with a peek at a sport which requires a great deal of skill, guts and a GIANT vat of muscle rub.

If you ever get a chance to see it for yourself you should definitely go!

…….I’m just sayin’