A ranch rodeo by nature is a wild event. If you have never been to one (www.strrf.com) you should check one out. Cap and Ely had entered a team in the local ranch rodeo since they were old enough to sign the release forms. Their careers had started out as a couple of young guys who ended up hurrying through every event and lost more time than anything having to do things twice. Then they progressed into the older phase where their skills had improved and they were pretty good competitors who the younger guys watched. Now they were just novelty entries....and they knew it!
A ranch rodeo can have all types of events and every kind is entertaining. Some have a Ranch Bronc Riding or a Stampede Race to make things interesting. This particular event had what was called a Rescue Race.
The Rescue Race can be done several ways and this one was pretty unique. One cowboy stands on the top of a 55 gallon drum at the end of the arena. Another cowboy is horseback at the opposite end of the arena and when the flag drops, they ride at full gallop down the pen toward the man on the barrel, then ride around the barrel while the man standing on it jumps on the horse behind the rider and they have to race back to the other end riding double. No problem right? Right.
Cap and Ely discussed their strategy out back. "It makes sense that since I have the fastest horse I should ride and you should stand on the barrel", reasoned Cap. Ely wasn't so sure.
"I like the idea that my horse is gentler and would be easier to jump on. Fast ain't always good if someone is busted up when the dust settles." said Ely. Cap wouldn't hear it.
"This is a speed event and we have to be fast." said Cap," If you're scared we can get Jaime to stand on the barrel and I'll ride to him. He'll try anything once. We really need the points in this event to have a chance at winning."
"I ain't scared...I just think it would be easier with a gentler horse."
They both stood looking at each other and Ely had seen that look on Cap's face before. Ely turned and walked toward the other end of the arena. The event was about to start.
When it came their turn Ely was standing on the barrel at the other end of the arena. Cap tightened up his cinch and was ready to go. He had tied a short piece of rope on the saddle horn so Ely would have something to grab ahold of if he needed it. That rope would become more pivotal than either one of them realized.
The flag dropped and Cap gouged hide. Now the normal person would get going good and then start to slow down in preparation for the turn around the barrel...Cap wasn't normal. About 10 yards before he got to the barrel he started hollering "JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!". He just wanted to motivate Ely to help them win.
Ole bay came towards that barrel at a high rate of speed and Cap was hollerin' at the top of his lungs. Naturally all of this commotion spooked Ely a little...and ole bay alot. Now horses are amazing creatures, but there's several things that their nature won't tolerate. Some of these things are loud noises they aren't used to and humans standing on barrels who then try to jump towards them. I guess it brings flashbacks for them of predators trying to kill and eat them. Whatever the case may be...they don't like it.
As Cap came around the barrel, still hollerin', Ely made a desperate grab for the saddle horn and Cap's waist. His leaping attempt was a little mis-measured and he grabbed the back of the saddle with one hand and managed to grab ahold of the rope tied to the saddle horn with the other. At that point, it was unclear who was rescuing who.
Ole bay left the vicinity of that barrel at a HIGH rate of speed. Cap was still hollerin', but now he was hollerin' "WHOA! WHOA!" while trying to break the bridle reins by pulling back in an attempt to stop the horse. Ely was hollerin now too, only it was "AHHHHHH!". The bay horse was still freaking out...horses can't holler or he would've too.
The race back to the other end of the arena was pretty short. Ely's legs were dragging as he was holding on for dear life to a runaway horse that Cap couldn't stop. The good news is that they set the new arena record in the Rescue Race. Everyone agreed it was brilliant strategy on Cap's part to not have Ely even mount the horse. Ole bay was much faster dragging 150 lbs of screaming for dear life cowboy than he was carrying it.
The bad news is that next year Jaime is the new rescue race barrel man...and Ely is riding!
Hold on Jaime!
Walker
Monday, February 22, 2010
My Punishment-Scars
I have been reminded by 2 different people over the last couple of weeks that I have been languishing in my updates. So as my punishment I am going to tell a story on myself and how we can still be young at heart, that a little blood never hurt anyone...and sometimes scars are funny.
It was a nice night in Giddings, Texas. The weather was what you would expect from a Central Texas spring evening and I was glad to be out and about in it. I was entered at the last performance of the CPRA rodeo in Giddings and since I was in the area, I drove to Conly and Lori Donnell's house in Caldwell the day before to hang out. Conly and Lori decided to ride along with me to the rodeo and Walter (Conly's brother) and his wife Karly came along too. They had already roped at the rodeo, but since it was a Saturday night and there was a dance after the rodeo we all decided we would stick around afterward and check out the band.
I didn't win anything at the rodeo and in an effort to drown my sorrows, I unsaddled my horse and we went to the dance which was right across the parking lot. Fast forward about 3 hours....3 hours of telling stories with Conly and Walter while drinking beer and listening to music...maybe drinking a little too much beer. When the band finished playing we stood right at the edge of the pavilion and surveyed the scene before us. I can remember it like it was yesterday because the whole area in front of us was drowned in that orange glow of the old fashioned sodium security lights. As I squinted my eyes I could see something at the far edge of the light that caught my attention. I turned to Conly and Walter and said,"You see that bucking machine over there? Our destiny has just been revealed to us." They agreed.
The walk across the lot towards the bucking machine was not very far, but it was far enough for us to talk each other into how awesome our bull riding skills were. I don't know about anyone else, but when I walked up to the padded area around that bull I was sure no one had ever seen someone put a ride on a mechanical bull like I was about to. This from a guy who didn't win anything in the team roping that night....and hadn't won much in a while...I was determined to win at something. Too determined.
We approached the man who owned the machine and told him we were some of the finest and most highly trained mechanical bull riders that ever wore a nickel pair of socks. We told him that his bull would lay defeated in ruins before us and that the crowd was in for a treat. We clearly had consumed too much beer. By this time there was a pretty good crowd gathered around since the dance was over. Evidently we weren't the only ones who had the same idea. The owner decided to make an example.
We decided between the 3 of us to ride for bragging rights. Conly went first. The bucking machine operator made it fairly hard and Conly made a pretty good ride. He made it for the 8 seconds anyway and jumped off victorious. Walker was next.
I am not a Bull Rider. I am not a bucking horse rider and my record will clearly reflect that. Just ask my Dad. I mounted up on the mechanical bull and wedged my riding glove (a glove you would use to fix fence) into the handhold. I set my feet and waved my hand. We began our dance.
The first few jumps I remember being in pretty good shape. I think he was going to give me the same pattern he gave Conly, as a gesture of mercy. I was a better rider than that....the beer told me so. About the third jump I opened up with my right leg and spurred the machine making a loud thump. The rest is blurry. All I know for sure is that the setting I WAS on must have been "newly born milk calf", or "baby deer ride" and the setting I received after my spurring job was more along the lines of "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull, destroys team roper with too much beer for the delight of the crowd". I was horrible. I got whipped down, which means that my feet ended up behind me and my face somehow collided with the plastic head of the mechanical bull. From there I fell off to the side and the bull continued to buck while my hand was still hung up in the rigging. It happened instantly and without notice.
When the dust settled, and I regained vision, I was standing on my feet alongside the bull with my hand still in the rigging. Conly had come out of the crowd and was down in front of the fake bull waving his hat in the bull's face trying to save me from the impending hooking I should have taken. The crowd was enjoying themselves immensely and after I saw Conly I started laughing too. I got my hand out of the rigging and we gathered up outside the padded area laughing so hard we were almost in tears. I can admit now that I was a little loopy, either from the beer or from being whipped down by "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull", which one I'm not sure, but it took me a few minutes to get my bearings back.
Walter rode next and he made a pretty good ride. I think he and Conly tied for bragging rights over me which we didn't need a judge to figure out. My slump of not winning continued. After the bull riding competition we made our way over to the hot dog vendor who was still open after the rodeo and ordered up some hot dogs. While I was ordering I noticed the lady who was taking my order kept looking at me funny. I didn't think anything of it because people look at me funny all the time either from something I've said, or something I've done. It wasn't until I turned around that I realized why. Lori and Karly pointed out to me that I was bleeding. "Aw, heck it can't be that bad." No....like really bleeding. I felt my face right under my jawbone and sure enough...huh, blood. Then I looked down and found that it had been running down my neck a little and my shirt had been soaking it up. No wonder hot dog lady gave me that look.
The next morning I woke up at Conly and Lori's to find something a little more serious. After closer inspection I found that there was a hole in my neck about the size of a #2 pencil eraser. Great....I had a Monday morning bank meeting to attend. That would be fun. All in all, I guess it wasn't that bad. I should probably have gone to get a stitch or two because I now have a scar on my neck where whiskers don't grow anymore, but that's where the good stories come from. :)
Max Stalling says that "life's mostly scars and souvenirs". Somehow, I happen to have a few of both.
Walker
It was a nice night in Giddings, Texas. The weather was what you would expect from a Central Texas spring evening and I was glad to be out and about in it. I was entered at the last performance of the CPRA rodeo in Giddings and since I was in the area, I drove to Conly and Lori Donnell's house in Caldwell the day before to hang out. Conly and Lori decided to ride along with me to the rodeo and Walter (Conly's brother) and his wife Karly came along too. They had already roped at the rodeo, but since it was a Saturday night and there was a dance after the rodeo we all decided we would stick around afterward and check out the band.
I didn't win anything at the rodeo and in an effort to drown my sorrows, I unsaddled my horse and we went to the dance which was right across the parking lot. Fast forward about 3 hours....3 hours of telling stories with Conly and Walter while drinking beer and listening to music...maybe drinking a little too much beer. When the band finished playing we stood right at the edge of the pavilion and surveyed the scene before us. I can remember it like it was yesterday because the whole area in front of us was drowned in that orange glow of the old fashioned sodium security lights. As I squinted my eyes I could see something at the far edge of the light that caught my attention. I turned to Conly and Walter and said,"You see that bucking machine over there? Our destiny has just been revealed to us." They agreed.
The walk across the lot towards the bucking machine was not very far, but it was far enough for us to talk each other into how awesome our bull riding skills were. I don't know about anyone else, but when I walked up to the padded area around that bull I was sure no one had ever seen someone put a ride on a mechanical bull like I was about to. This from a guy who didn't win anything in the team roping that night....and hadn't won much in a while...I was determined to win at something. Too determined.
We approached the man who owned the machine and told him we were some of the finest and most highly trained mechanical bull riders that ever wore a nickel pair of socks. We told him that his bull would lay defeated in ruins before us and that the crowd was in for a treat. We clearly had consumed too much beer. By this time there was a pretty good crowd gathered around since the dance was over. Evidently we weren't the only ones who had the same idea. The owner decided to make an example.
We decided between the 3 of us to ride for bragging rights. Conly went first. The bucking machine operator made it fairly hard and Conly made a pretty good ride. He made it for the 8 seconds anyway and jumped off victorious. Walker was next.
I am not a Bull Rider. I am not a bucking horse rider and my record will clearly reflect that. Just ask my Dad. I mounted up on the mechanical bull and wedged my riding glove (a glove you would use to fix fence) into the handhold. I set my feet and waved my hand. We began our dance.
The first few jumps I remember being in pretty good shape. I think he was going to give me the same pattern he gave Conly, as a gesture of mercy. I was a better rider than that....the beer told me so. About the third jump I opened up with my right leg and spurred the machine making a loud thump. The rest is blurry. All I know for sure is that the setting I WAS on must have been "newly born milk calf", or "baby deer ride" and the setting I received after my spurring job was more along the lines of "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull, destroys team roper with too much beer for the delight of the crowd". I was horrible. I got whipped down, which means that my feet ended up behind me and my face somehow collided with the plastic head of the mechanical bull. From there I fell off to the side and the bull continued to buck while my hand was still hung up in the rigging. It happened instantly and without notice.
When the dust settled, and I regained vision, I was standing on my feet alongside the bull with my hand still in the rigging. Conly had come out of the crowd and was down in front of the fake bull waving his hat in the bull's face trying to save me from the impending hooking I should have taken. The crowd was enjoying themselves immensely and after I saw Conly I started laughing too. I got my hand out of the rigging and we gathered up outside the padded area laughing so hard we were almost in tears. I can admit now that I was a little loopy, either from the beer or from being whipped down by "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull", which one I'm not sure, but it took me a few minutes to get my bearings back.
Walter rode next and he made a pretty good ride. I think he and Conly tied for bragging rights over me which we didn't need a judge to figure out. My slump of not winning continued. After the bull riding competition we made our way over to the hot dog vendor who was still open after the rodeo and ordered up some hot dogs. While I was ordering I noticed the lady who was taking my order kept looking at me funny. I didn't think anything of it because people look at me funny all the time either from something I've said, or something I've done. It wasn't until I turned around that I realized why. Lori and Karly pointed out to me that I was bleeding. "Aw, heck it can't be that bad." No....like really bleeding. I felt my face right under my jawbone and sure enough...huh, blood. Then I looked down and found that it had been running down my neck a little and my shirt had been soaking it up. No wonder hot dog lady gave me that look.
The next morning I woke up at Conly and Lori's to find something a little more serious. After closer inspection I found that there was a hole in my neck about the size of a #2 pencil eraser. Great....I had a Monday morning bank meeting to attend. That would be fun. All in all, I guess it wasn't that bad. I should probably have gone to get a stitch or two because I now have a scar on my neck where whiskers don't grow anymore, but that's where the good stories come from. :)
Max Stalling says that "life's mostly scars and souvenirs". Somehow, I happen to have a few of both.
Walker
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