Three Guys Were Sitting in the Versus Broadcast Booth

Which you might consider as close to heaven as you can get, but then think about our good friend Shannon, who sat right behind the chutes at Anaheim two weeks ago, and you’ll realize that there are other places a lot closer to the celestial choir at a PBR event. Anyway, these three guys were sitting in the Versus broadcast booth in St. Louis, and somehow, in the midst of the gabfest we are privileged to enjoy anytime Justin McBride and J.W. Hart both shoehorn themselves in there, the third guy, Justin McKee, turned to McBride and asked why there had been so few qualified rides in the first two rounds. Was the long, grueling season finally catching up with the riders? Were they getting hurt? Were they just tired?

I didn’t hear how McBride responded because I was too busy getting up off the floor, where I had landed in my astonishment. But I am happy to answer on Mr. McBride’s behalf, since I’m sure he didn’t get the answer right.

The reason is obvious: THE BULLS ARE FINALLY BACK IN THE HOUSE.

Anybody who has stopped by here since the season began knows that I was not impressed by the bulls that bucked for about the first six events. Thank God somebody has finally come to his senses and gotten us some decent stock, because frankly I was so bored during the Baltimore, New York, Fresno, and Sacramento events that I was seriously considering finding something else to waste my time on, like needlepointing new seat covers for all my dining chairs or taking up growing bonsai, or maybe, in a pinch, building model suspension bridges out of pipe cleaners. All that started to change in Dallas, finally, and certainly since Oklahoma City, I have had no complaints about the bull talent.

So, Mr. McKee, I don’t know whether the cowboys are *tired* or maybe just *tired of all the drama,* which you have to admit has been considerable this season. What I do know is, at St. Louis, twelve riders—just twelve! twelve out of 40!—rode more than ONE bull all weekend long. Out of that twelve, four rode only two bulls, five rode three, and a grand total of three rode all four. I was glad to see Zack Brown ride well—he finished third, less than three points behind the winner—but doubtless everybody already knows that I don’t give a damn how Kody Lohstroh rides, and Wiley Petersen is just about to lose me for good, what with his giving God the praise and the glory whenever a microphone is shoved in his face. I mean, really, Wiley. Do you think God is what’s keeping you on the backs of your bulls? Do you believe you score more points the more you proselytize? Actually, the last proposition might be true, since nobody can tell why the judges score any rider or bull the way they do, but as for the former, I can guarantee you it just ain’t so. I’d say it’s a safe bet that most, if not all, the riders are praying they’ll ride, but the stats speak for the efficacy of that strategy.

So bring on Kansas City, folks. I, too, am back in the house, on the couch, clutching my remote in one hand and my Jack Daniels in the other, hollerin’ and cussin’ and generally making Montana Barn Cat clap his hands over his ears about 30 times each go-round. It feels just like old times.