Of course, this would fit with the pattern of my life; nothing about it has ever been 'normal' or 'average', so I don't know why things should suddenly shift last night. And sure enough, they didn't.
I am well aware that most average people (of whom I am one) do not get to use their 'magic passes' to cut in line in front of hundreds of others, and that while security is checking bags for contraband such as outside snacks and drinks, they'll look the other way because of that laminated card hanging on a string around your neck. I'm not complaining, mind you.
I'm also well aware that all of this is no more than a fluke, or a series of flukes, rather, beginning with the death of a friend. I went to look his obituary up at the local paper's online site. In doing so, I stumbled across an article that was a call for community editorial board member volunteers. I hardly knew what an editorial board was or did, but it sounded interesting and so I wrote up a piece, telling perfect strangers from the paper all about myself and why I might be a good candidate. Of course it was embellished; I'm middle-aged and have nothing better to do than to exaggerate at this point. I did not expect to hear anything back from them. But a couple of weeks later, I was sitting around their boardroom table, nervous as a cat. And when I get nervous, there's no telling what fool thing will come out of my mouth. I believe, if memory serves me well, I may have openly offended a home-schooling mom, another potential board candidate. I simply told her that I'd tried homeschooling, had lasted ten weeks, and that I'd developed a twitch in my eye afterward that didn't go away. I quickly added that I admired anyone who took that on, and I do. But jumble that in with a lot of incoherent mumblings, said too quickly (and no doubt too loudly) to be understood, with some jerky, unnatural head movements (which I do when I'm tense) and that was more what it was like. Needless to say, I bombed.
For reasons I don't comprehend, and perhaps because life in general makes no sense at all...they called me back... and welcomed me to the board. To this day, I still don't get it.
Being on the board means that we get to comment on the current local issues. In order to do this intelligently, it's always a plus if we've actually read them. I have to admit that there are weeks that I 'cram'. Our meetings are on a specific day, and usually on that specific day's morning...I can be seen surrounded by papers at the kitchen table, pouring through the editorials. Because it's good to be thorough, I flip through every page of the main section. This is how I found the article calling for bloggers for the Snake River Stampede. Hey, I thought to myself, I'm a blogger; I'd been faithfully blogging since last September. I could write this up for them. The payoff was tickets to every night's rodeo and full press credentials. I wrote up a piece talking about how very 'not rodeo' (no embellishments necessary) I was, claiming that I'd write up a 'rodeo-ing for dummies' type blog. Weirdly enough, they liked it.
So here I sat, just a foot or two away from that famous Oregon Trail dirt.
I am here by accident...or a series of strange and random events that have come together to create a blogging, reporting, pass-flashing fan. I say again, I am here by accident. But maybe then again, perhaps we all are. Who's to say this isn't all in the grand plan...a series of accidents. Sufficeth it to say that I am beyond grateful for each and every perk. The Idaho Press Tribune and the Snake River Stampede Association are some of those I need to thank in particular. Thank You. So much.
Since blogging is still fairly new to some folks, I've had a hard time explaining what I am doing. An old cowboy I met at the parade, one everyone seemed to know, was told by a nearby friend of mine that I was a 'blogger'. He looked as if he thought his hearing was going.
"A BLOGGER", she repeated to him, loudly. He smiled and nodded, as if he understood. It was very clear that he didn't.
"He probably doesn't even know what a blogger is," she told me, by way of apology. I didn't mind; true to country form, he and his wife still invited me out to their retirement ranch for a visit. They didn't care what I was, I was a human being and that was good enough for them. This has been the norm for each and every 'country' type person I've met thus far.
I have this little comedy act that I do, by way of explanation, when I see people I know who ask me what I'm doing there at the rodeo. I jokingly hang my head and say that I'm a 'lowly blogger'. Most get it, and laugh with me. It is, after all, my secret side. I haven't been able to look anyone in the eye yet when they ask what I do for a living, and tell them with a straight face, "Why, I'm a blogger!"
Blogger is a funny word, and it's hard to say it seriously. Try it a few times out loud, and you'll know what I mean. Try it in the mirror and you'll make yourself laugh.
So, I thought I'd switch to the much more prestigious term of 'writer'.
"I'm a writer..." I told one cowboy that I was interviewing at the Buckaroo Breakfast. He looked at me with new respect and asked me what type of horse I rode, and in what event. That didn't work.
So, I went back to laughingly saying I was a lowly blogger. On Thursday night, after declaring this, one veterinarian's wife looked at me with a look of pity.
"You're a lonely blogger?" she repeated, then patted me on the shoulder.
That depends, I suppose, on the day.
So, you can see that verbal communication is not my strong point. Not by a long shot.
Enter Friday night at the Rodeo. Several media-types...and me, scratching away in my notebook observations and random thoughts. The voice of 'Rodeo on the Radio', Dave Tester of 630 KIDO walks by. He and his wife and kids had been at the booth all week, and it had been nice to see them. His wife's sister was a good friend of mine, so I knew them or knew of them. Graciously, Dave had invited us the night before to listen in to his radio program. I thought this meant sitting near enough to him to hear what he was saying. This would be a great idea; I could get his perspective on the rodeo, and comment about it in my blog.
As he walked past us tonight, he said to me again, "Are you going to listen in tonight?"
I was.
Again, that thing with my communication problem. Apparently both outgoing and incoming. I didn't expect what happened next. When I sat near Dave Tester, he handed me a headphone and told me to put it on. Immediately I was having flashbacks of my visit to that country radio station, whose DJ's I'd interviewed just a couple of weeks ago, and how I'd frozen solid when they'd mentioned my name on air. Reading me correctly, they'd joked over the radio that I was 'a writer, not a talker'. I wasn't offended by that; I agreed whole-heartedly. Some people just need the delay that writing affords; and I am one of them.
'Rodeo on the Radio' was underway. Another radio announcer, joined us. So it was Dave Tester, this other guy, and me at the media table. Too funny.
Briefly and because I am a girl, I wondered just how dorky I looked with the headset on, and what it was doing to my hair, but I did some self-talk and worked it out. This was, after all, no place for vanity. I remembered how I'd found a dirt specks spattered across my forehead the night before, after the fact. I'd been talking to the vet's wife and had noticed multiple specks on her forehead during our conversation, but had been too...something...to have told her. She surely must have noticed mine. It's not hard to be humble when you're covered with dirt. I was. The headset was a secondary concern. That and there is something to be said about being middle-aged; you just don't really care that much about impressing people anymore, and you use the words 'whatever', 'why' and 'so' a lot more than you used to.
All of that aside, I have to say that every night of the rodeo has a different flavor. Just when I think there isn't anything new or note-worthy that I might find, I discover I am dead wrong.
Beginning with the Owyhee Nite Dazzlers, an equestrian drill team. These were women of all ages. Young, old, middle. They were really good, too. Something in me wanted to stand up and cheer when I watched them. Even though I joke about it a lot, age is just a number. And these women were living proof. They ignored their age and embraced their passion. Bravo.
Young Caseyn Pearson was back; the boy that had won the Little Buckaroo Contest. He had his own Caseyn-sized barrel and was working the crowd. I have to hand it to him, each night during the mutton-busting, he's been a really great clown. This kid has a bright future. I especially liked it when he stood atop his barrel and led us all in the clapping.
Morgan Frothinger had a great ride during the mutton-busting. She rode all the way down to the end of the arena. When she was held up for the audience to applaud, you couldn't miss her pink boots. Tough or not, she's still a lady and don't you forget it. I respected that.
One kid on a sheep, rode it down to the end of the arena and right smack into the waiting herd. I only hoped he landed on some wool and not a hoof or two.
When I heard the name of a girl whose family I knew, I got excited. This was different for me, it made it more personal. I'd been to their home with baby gifts when she and her twin brother had been born. I cheered Darci Wilkins on...it's a whole new game when it's a friend's child.
The presentation of the flag and the singing of the Star Spangled Banner were always something I looked forward to. I took my headphones off, so that I could sing along. Although I might think I have a decent singing voice, the rest of the listening world may not. I thought for sure we were off the air, but I removed them just in case.
--Do you want to get someone with a touch of A.D.D. overstimulated to the point of mental numbness? Just stick her in the middle of two radio personalities, with their voices pumping through her headphone, and then, just for fun...stick a world-class rodeo right in front of her for good measure. It's going to take me six months to process all of that. As my eyes and ears were attempting to absorb it all, every so often one or the other of those personalities would say:
"So what do you think, Amy-the-Blogger?"
At which point I immediately short-circuited. Sound effects, had there been any, might be:
"Wellllll, I.......Ummmmm.....Uhhhhhh...." Similar to certain political speeches, but without all the meaningful and important words in between.
They got better at just referring to me, without actually calling for comment, which was wisdom on their part. That's why they call them the 'talent'. It's also why they call me the 'blogger'.
Mr. Tester was good about helping me to know when we were on air. He'd tap my shoulder just a little, and mouth the words, "Back on."
The schtick for the other guy in Boise being in attendance, in Dave's program at least, was that he was 'across the dial' on the radio, and the two had teamed up for the rodeo event. Later on, I did some research on my two radio friends, and learned that this guy was a conservative talk-show host. So 'across the dial' was a great play on words for 'reaching across the aisle' on Dave Tester's part. Very clever. My suspicion was confirmed later when Mr. Tester said, "We're going from 'left' to 'right' on the radio dial..."
Dave described bareback riding as 'similar to taking your suitcase to the airport, that's all the more handle you have'. As for myself, I'd need a much bigger handle to keep me on one of those beasts.
One of the broncs and its rider came very close to our railing, to which it was commented that 'you could reach out and touch him'. When it ended in an impressive fall, and the medics came running out, the cowboy brushed it off with a 'Nah, I'm all right!', got up, threw his fist in the air as if in triumph and limped away. These guys are tough, no doubt about it.
The other guy commented that TV just doesn't do it justice. It was one of his first times at a rodeo. I doubted that any of this, whether it be by blog, camera, or radio was easy to convey. Although they come close,and sometimes make you feel as if you'd been there; you've simply got to see it for yourself. I know many people back east that have 'rodeo' on their bucket lists. You've just got to see at least one.
I noticed that Heath Ford, ranked number twenty-nine in the world in his event, appreciates fashion. His chaps were florescent orange. Apparently he'd seen the movie Legally Blond, where Reese Witherspoon's character declares that 'orange is the new pink'. Classic good taste. Classic.
There were a lot of things that I learned from sitting in on that broadcast. I learned that a steer wrestler is often riding at speeds of up to forty miles per hour when he dismounts. I learned that the 'hazer' (the guy or girl that assists in the event with the wrestler) keeps the steer in a straight line, and for their services gets twenty-five percent of the winning prize money.
The other guy’s questions were interesting; he asked the things I would have liked to have asked, had I not had the aforementioned radiophobia. He also made the comment that while steer wrestling, the cowboy would want to be careful not to get in the way of those horns, and wondering in practicing, etc., just how many injuries happened behind the scenes. Good 'point'. He also commented on the guy that messes with the tail of the calf for calf-roping, calling him a 'tail-er',(which eventually morphed into the name 'tail-gunner') going along with the whole 'header' and 'heeler' theme. It only made sense. He asked about the protective headgear that some of the calves wear...the brace-type gear that I'd found so silly-looking last week, when I'd seen it the first time. So I wasn't the only one that wondered about that. My questioning had just been validated.
He also wondered how these athletes cross-train, which was something I'd never thought about. Again, good question.
Dave Tester mentioned that sometimes the cowboys don't do a lot of talking after a ride; they're often in too much pain to be very chatty. He stressed that they are usually going right from one rodeo to another, especially in the 'Cowboy Christmas' month of July.
Right about that time, there was a public personality that they needed to interview, so this blogger gladly gave up her seat and headphones for a few minutes. When I returned, I found them to be soaking wet with sweat. Not just damp; so wet that they were dripping onto the table. Dave Tester did the familiar tapping of the shoulder to signal me to put the headphones on, because we were back on the air. I motioned to him and said, "Nuh-huh," but he didn't see me, he was reporting the action again. I looked over at the other guy for help, holding up the drenched headset, by way of explanation. He saw, he understood, and he laughed. We then had a whispered conversation about if maybe I could sell those headphones for a lot of money on Ebay, given that it was a celebrity's sweat and all. Finally Production Manager Mike came to my rescue and wiped them off on his jeans, with his pants becoming temporarily stained from the damp. Ick. Celebrity or no, I have my limits to being an adoring fan. I draw the line at perspiration.
Back to the Rodeo.
One cowboy, Sean Santucci, lost his time, but wrestled the steer down anyway, even though it took him way too long. He did it for the crowd. I realized that these are not only cowboys, they're entertainers in their own right. He didn't have to go to the effort, but did as a 'thank you' to the audience.
When it was time to go to another commercial break, Mr. Tester said, "You head 'em, I'll heel 'em" as a temporary farewell.
We were back on the air shortly, and I was learning more and more. Did you know that the heeler has a smaller, quicker horse? I did not, but it makes sense for the role that they play.
They talked a lot about Trevor Brazile, using phrases like 'The Michael Jordan of Rodeo', and 'simply the best.' The man in the black shirt was the man of the hour, that's for sure.
At one point, they had Roger Todd, this year's Stampede President, and the Governor of Idaho, Butch Otter, team roping. Roger was the header and the Governor was the heeler. They didn't make amazing time on that ride, but then again Dave had another point: "How many governors could do something like that?" Idaho is a very unique state, in many, many ways.
When it was time for the bull riding, I found that I was even more nervous. My palms broke out into a sweat. I was reviewing in my mind three previous nights of action and peril. Those bulls, I'll say it again, are mean devils. Fascinating to me were the clowns, who Dave Tester called a 'pair of lifesavers'. That's the truth. I saw one of them grab a bull right by the horns to get him out of the way, so that the cowboy could scramble to safety. The theme of this evening was 'Extreme Rodeo', and there were a lot more close calls this night than there had been on any other night.
Of one clown, Radical Rudy Rodriguez, it was said that he was talented.
"Nuts; but talented."
I was of the opinion that you had to be a little bit of crazy to rodeo at all, after observing this culture for the past few weeks. But it might have been exactly what I liked about the people...a little nuts, but talented. No different than any other sport, really. Maybe we're all just a little nuts by now. Maybe that's what makes it so much fun.
They had the mares and their colts run out again, as part of the closing ceremonies. I loved that. Then, they played the 'Snake River Stampede' theme song...that catchy one that you won't be able to get out of your head until a week from next Sunday.
The fourth night of the rodeo was over.
Tomorrow: the Finals.
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