Had you told anyone I grew up with, that sometime in the future I would have any knowledge whatsoever of the sport of rodeo, they would have asked for an immediate drug test.
But as unbelievable as it sounds—I must admit—I do. I was a rodeo beat writer for fi ve years.
With the Austin Rodeo & Livestock Show (“Where Weird Meets Western”) just completed, I felt it was time to reveal my dark little secret.
It all started innocently enough many years ago, with some assistant sports editor bellowing across the American-Statesman newsroom, “Hey, anybody wanna cover the rodeo?”
While every single writer within ear shot either sprinted to the bathroom, pretended they were talking on the phone or feigned having a seizure, I boldly stuck my hand in the air.
“I’ll do it,” I said in a confident, yet hesitant voice.
Now I had covered yacht racing, stock car racing, bowling and midget tossing and as a writer, I was always up for a new challenge.
But when it came to rodeo, I knew jack-squat.
I was intrigued by the names. The Myers brothers, Cash and Rope. Speed Williams and on the other hand Turtle Powell. Blue Stone, Rooster Reynolds, Shot Branham.
One thing is for certain, of all the professional athletes I have dealt with, I found the cowboys and cowgirls to be friendlier and more cooperative than any football, basketball or baseball player, who mostly have a deep-rooted contempt for their fans.
Snuff dipping Sherpa
When I fi rst reported to the Austin-Travis County Livestock Show and Rodeo out at the Travis County Exposition Center, I had no idea what awaited me as I waded past a sea of mud splattered duallies in the parking lot.
The rodeo offi cials had kindly provided me with my own sherpa guide, Robert Howerton, who later ended up coaching in Lexington for a while.
Robert patiently walked me through the ins and outs of what a lot of people call the world’s most popular sport. I’m sure I saw that on a bumper sticker somewhere.
To be honest, as far as I’m concerned, the jury’s still out on whether it’s really a sport or not. I just don’t know.
The competitors like to be called athletes. Likewise, there are questions as to whether they are legitimate athletes. While extremely talented, don’t know if Fred Whitfi eld has a jumper or not. The subject is open to debate.
What I came to fi nd out rather quickly, is that all my perceptions of rodeoing were the polar opposite of what I assumed.
For instance, I thought that when it came to bull riding, you just grabbed hold with both hands and held on for dear life until that eight-second horn sounded.
Of course, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I was unaware of all the intricacies that were involved in all the events. Didn’t know about dallys, slack, marking out, breaking the barrier, go-rounds and day money.
Todd Fox of Marble Falls, Jim Bob Mayes of Manor the incredible roping team of Tee Woolman and Rich Skelton from Llano. Wool-man, making yet another appearance at the NFR this year, seemed more like a college professor to me than a cowboy.
Rockdale’s own Roger Pack even competed one year.
Visited with all three Etbauer brothers, Robert, Billy and Dan. Couldn’t have been nicer guys. And, the best at what they do.
In 1989, the Etbauers made history as all three of them made the NFR in saddle bronc riding.
Also spent some time with the Michael Jordan of rodeo, Ty Murray.
For those of you who are not familiar with Murray, he was the all-around champion for seven years in a row and has won more money ($3 million) than anyone who ever pulled their hat down over their ears.
The fi rst time we talked, we went upstairs to the little bar above the Exposition Center and he bought drinks for everyone in the place.
We talked (actually he did all the talking) about rodeo getting the respect it deserved in the sporting world. Murray, who was forced to retire at the age of 32 in 2002 because of injuries, was a great spokesman for the sport and he was proud of what he did for a living.
Tuff enough
Then, there’s Tuff Hedeman. The fl amboyant bull rider who returned from major face reconstruction surgery after being mashed by the infamous bull Bodacious at the 1995 NFR.
If Murray was LeBron James, Hedeman was Kevin Love.
I fi rst met with pro rodeo’s bad boy in (of course) the physical therapy trailer and while he was getting his knees tended too, all he wanted to talk about was basketball which he was watching in the trailer.
The Austin Rodeo took place right in the middle of the NCAA Tournament. I think Tuff and I both had Villanova that year.
Hedemen, who was known for throwing his cowboy hat back in the arena after a successful ride, wanted to venture out onto Sixth Street in Austin and let’s just say that when we parted ways at three in the morning, he was still going strong.
Hedeman was a giant among bull riders, standing 5-foot-11. Most of your better bull riders are shorter of stature. Murray is 5-7, champion Clint Branger is 5-4.
Another one of my misconceptions: I fi gured bull riding was the toughest event in rodeo, so the biggest, toughest guys like Fred Whitfi eld (6-2, 210) or Joe Beaver (6-3, 230) would be the best at it. Wrong.
Murray explained to me that being a successful bull rider has to do with balance.
“We’re like gymnasts,” he said. “You have to be able to shift your weight around in a split second. We’re doing things that no other athletes in the world can do.”
So now I know all the words to Amarillo By Morning, which may be (with great apologies to David Allan Coe) the greatest country and western song ever written. Or at least about rodeo.
I fi nd myself tuning in to the NFR telecasts just to see what’s up.
There is one reason and one reason only that I wish I was back on the rodeo beat, just so I could meet Beaumont bull rider Howdy Cloud and Del Rio tie-down roper Houston Hutto.
Now there’s some real honest-to-goodness names for you.
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