Rodeo aftermath

Just got home from church. I must admit, I didn't jive with the messenger, but I did the message, so he did his job. The normal pastor, who I really like to hear preach, is gone to the SBC gathering in Indianapolis. The substitute was from Prestonwood, the megachurch in Dallas.

As I sit here and watch the Braves (finally) on TBS HD, I reflect on last night's events at the Gladewater Round-Up Rodeo. My family and I got there about 45 minutes early, so we secured seats in the west bleachers so the sun was to our backs.

The show started about 8:15. It ended two and a half hours later. In other words, it was way too long. The announcer wasn't any good at all, and the lead clown was terrible. The bull fighters - Cory Wall and Mike Matt - were really good. I've interviewed them before, and they're nice guys. It's unbelievable the punishment they've taken in years as bull fighters. The cowboys trust those guys with their lives.

If a bovine the size of a Ford Explorer's charging at me after throwing me 10 feet through the air, I'd rather trust my life with a 12-gauge, pump-action shotty, but that's just me.

The saddle-bronc riding started the show, followed by the steer wrestling, tie-down roping, team roping, barrel racing, and bull riding, which always concludes the evening's events. Here's a rundown of each competition:

- Saddle-bronc riding
Don't get me wrong, this is tough, but I tend to think that the bareback riding is a good bit more challenging. The coolest thing about last night's saddle-bronc round was a horse named Chickadee. When it jumped out of the gates, it was like seeing a smoke-colored moose bound out with a colobus monkey strapped to its back. Chickadee may be the biggest non-Clydesdale I've ever seen, and is certainly the largest rodeo horse I've ever witnessed.

- Steer wrestling
Steer wrestlers are the rodeo guys you'd least want to fight. Known as the "big man's event," steer wrestlers are often the biggest guys in rodeo. You're not gonna see a lot of medium-to-large men in the rough-stock stuff. Big guys are just too big to ride bulls and horses.

If you've never seen steer wrestling, the steer sprints out of the chute and the cowboy, on horseback, runs it down, jumps off the horse and onto the steer, and wrestles it to the ground. This might paint a better picture: It's like watching a guy jump off a moving car onto a golf cart with horns. Total insanity.

- Tie-down roping
Fred Whitfield makes this event. He's a multiple world champion - he's won the championship multiple times that is, not on other planets - and nobody I've ever seen is quicker tying up the roped calf. He's so good, he bolted out of the chute on foot when one of his colleagues couldn't corral one of the calves. Luckily for the calf, the other cowboy took care of him before Whitfield could get to him. Simply put: Fred Whitfield is a beast.

- Team roping
I can see how somebody can rope a moving calf around the neck. I can't comprehend how the "heeler" gets the rope around the two hind legs of the calf. Unbelievable.

*** Before I go any further, I'd like to address the fact that rodeo has grown increasingly commercial. There have always been the advertisements around the arenas for smokeless tobacco, farm equipment, and various other blue-coller products and services. But now they're sending someone on horseback around the arena between events with a flag donning the Pizza Hut logo, or some bank, etc. It's getting pretty ridiculous. Next thing you know, they'll be naming the bulls tractorsupply.com.

Another thing I'd like to point out is the horridness of the clown acts and fan-friendly promotions. The only one that was amusing was the kids' Mutton Bustin'. Any time you put five-year-olds and mangy sheep together, comedy ensues.

Twice during the rodeo Dodge trucks circled the arena while people in the beds threw out what seemed like hundreds of frisbees. The crowd yearned for these discs like they were manna from heaven. I could see how kids ages 13 and younger might get a rush from catching a plastic football thrown by a comely cheerleader, or even a Dodge frisbee thrown from the bed of a one-ton diesel. But I can't explain why the two elderly people sitting beside me rose to their feet only one time the entire rodeo: When the frisbees were being thrown.

From what I could see, one young lady fell victim to these frisbees on the other side of the arena. Since it was so far away, I couldn't tell exactly what happened, but it appeared a runaway frisbee hit her in the head. I felt sorry for her. It was obvious she was there trying to make the evening as fun as possible, then a dang frisbee had to come flying pell-mell into her skull. I thought I saw a friend wrap her arms around her in consolation. I was glad somebody was looking out for her. I felt bad. I knew she had to be embarrassed.

- Barrel racing
Barrel racing is tough. I'm not a horse person. I think horses are among the dumbest animals on God's green Earth. Their moody, high-strung, and unpredictable. They're like women. (I keed, I keed.) Coincidentally, barrel racing is the woman's sport of rodeo. They've got guts to do this, because barrel racing is basically driving a car that has its own mind around three barrels as fast as you can in a contained area.

Not for me.

- Bull riding
This is why people come to the rodeo, to watch a 5-foot-6, 145-pound man tie himself to an ill-tempered, 1,800-pound tractor with hooves and horns.

I think there were eight different riders last night, and none of them covered a beast for more than four seconds, much less eight seconds. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on how sadistic you are - nobody got hurt, but there were some close calls.

Since nobody covered a bull last night, the end of the show was rather anticlimactic. It was about 10:45 when we reached my parents' truck. It was midnight when we got to my apartment, approximately 14 miles from the rodeo arena.

That's it for the 71st Annual Gladewater Round-Up Rodeo. The four-night extravaganza ended with a whimper in Saturday night's lackluster bull-riding round, but that won't stop thousands of people from coming back next year for Version 72.

Except for maybe that poor girl who took a frisbee to the cranium.