the Rodeo

With tickets from a co-worker, we headed up to a rodeo at Ogden's Golden Spike Arena. I was eager to go, having never been to a rodeo. I was curious to see what kind of grasp and body whipping it took to get a good score.

General admission allowed us to pick whatever spot was open. Why not three rows up, just seats from where the gates open and the raging bulls charge out?

With time to spare before the show officially started, we watched as a handful of young little boys wandered the dirt floor of the arena or rode solo on a horse. Obviously they were the next generation of cowboys. It was easy to instantly see how this sport is very family oriented. Grown men huddled in circles, completely comfortable that their young uns' already (literally) can handle the ropes.

With our girls questioning aloud (like "Are these real cowboys?"), it was obvious we were first-timers. Graciously, a lady seated below us turned around. She explained how they were from Idaho and had come with several of "the riders." Turns out she was the wife of one of the bull riders. If I needed to know anything when things got going, I was to ask her! Wanting to understand, I shamelessly leaned forward countless times. She and a couple of her friends leaned back and oohed over our "cute kids." Glad we plopped down there!

From her, I learned how higher points are rewarded for use of the spurs, what "barrier" line was not to be crossed before the bell, how three legs of the calf need to be secured for 6 seconds, and how important 8 seconds are for a ride. I sincerely enjoyed her insight. I sat there realizing the countless hours of training and travel one (and the entire family) puts into a single shot at staying on a bucking bull or horse for 8 seconds...or hopefully even less seconds if your goal was to lasso in the shortest time. A lot of time for one chance with an animal.

Should have gotten a picture with our commentator. Should have gotten a picture of the American flag being galloped around the stadium during the opening anthem. The pictures I include are the fuzzy few that came out of my camera that was low on batteries: Meg nervous from a random bird mascot wandering the stands and the rodeo clown, Tyler peering over the rider's hat (Tyler loved the action!), and Matt joining the crowd with the girls for the "chicken chase"...

Just as I make sense of the bull rides and the barrier lassoing, I was to witness the "chicken chase." A break in action. Similar to a seventh-inning stretch, perhaps. Matt, having been told that they allowed kids down to try and catch chickens, of course that is what the girls were counting on. Too bad only four chickens were let loose for the HUGE mass of people. Paige ran off hopeful, oblivious of the bad odds. Meg would not put two feet on the ground...

Crazy! I had thought being trampled by a horse was dangerous...trampled by the numberless crowd was more real for the girls. I thought falling from the bull before a complete eight seconds would be disappointing...not getting arms around a chicken proved tear-worthy for the girls.

Ah well, pack 'em up. Time for the long drive home. We'd come and seen! We'd cultured ourselves. We'd had fun. We'd watched "real cowboys" while listening to great country tunes over the speakers! We'd lasted until the chicken run.

I wished we could have stayed until the bitter end to see the lady's husband ride in the last event of the night. But, the kids were done...the parents keeping tabs on the kids were done...my sneezing and running nose told me I was done with the horses.