The Bull Diaries

Good afernoon, folks, the Stockyard Queen now brings you, with mixed emotions, the latest installment of SoCal Jay's adventures in bull riding mania. I'm feeling a little sad because soon SoCal Jay will no longer be a rookie and he will become as jaded and cynical as, er, I am. But in the meantime, I invite you to enjoy his wide-eyed wonder as he experiences the finals of our beloved sport for the first time. Remember when we all felt that way? Ladies and gentlemen, I present:

Episode Six: “Omygawd” all over again

Seeking relief from the painful pressures of the presidential election, and noting that the Las Vegas finals were in progress, I reviewed the first five or six rounds of the competition, this morning. I was blown away. Again.

Mind you, it ain’t easy to appreciate the finer nuances of ANYTHING on the screen of a 12-inch iBook, but even so what I watched was stunning, thanks to the PBR website.

To cite but one example, how in the HELL does Guilherme “All the ladies love me” Marchi ride that bull in round five (if memory serves) called “Scaredy Cat”? With one hand? How does a man or anyone at all DO that?

I dunno. I just know it blows my ever-lovin’ mind. The courage of it. The folly of it. It’s insane, clearly, but it’s also beautiful

Meanwhile, I’m quite sure the bulls themselves think: “Yeah, well, all that’s well and good. But give us 10 seconds, or even 20, and THEN see what happens.”

Ha!

Not that most humans would ever consider riding a bull for fun, let alone to make a living. And bulls certainly don’t think in such existential ways. Still, I wonder about such things, which prolongs the simple fact that I need to mow the yard, today.