Why Do I Love The Rodeo?

I did a lot of research this morning on why people love the rodeo.

While much of the comments and answers inspired me, I couldn't make them my own, not having had those same experiences (yet).

Last year, when I was at age (?), I had my first true immersion in the rodeo. I'd been to one a time or two, but didn't understand what I was seeing. I didn't understand the skill that went into each event, the effort it took to provide the stock, or the training for the horses. I had no grasp of the money, the time, or the sheer determination of the people that were involved. At the end of a five-day stint, I was starting to get it. I'm still learning.


Two things I've read that I feel that I can absolutely agree with:

-It's a way of life.

-You can't be a cowboy without having lots of heart.



Hard to condense what I observed last year, but I'll have a go at it:

I saw the look of sheer joy on a Stampeder's face as she carried the American flag, circling the arena with her trusty horse and its thundering hooves galloping beneath her.

I saw the shining smile of the winner of the young rodeo clown contest, as he greeted his new adoring fans.

I saw majesty in motion as one of the largest bulls I've viewed in my lifetime kicked and snorted around in the dirt, making the rider appear as if he were a ragdoll, and throwing him as if he were a used paper tissue.

I saw triumph in the eyes of a roper that had just made the best time yet. I might have even seen relief; doing well means paying the bills.

I saw the enthusiasm of a people that live for this time of year; it being a social highlight for them, and with fond memories of rodeos long past. Stories of their first rodeo, their family traditions of the country life, and getting group tickets year after year were numerous and freely shared.

I saw mental toughness as a previously injured cowboy competed anyway, got re-injured, and limped off good-naturedly, waving to the crowd.

I saw the various local clubs serving and assisting those attending the rodeo with shuttle rides, coffee re-fills at the Buckaroo Breakfasts, and wheelchair access routes. I saw the Governor flipping pancakes for the hungry rodeo-goers. I sensed more than ever before, the feeling of belonging and community.

I saw a man singing the Star Spangled Banner with everything he had, and thousands of rodeo fans standing with their hands on their hearts, with their eyes on the Flag.

And I'll never forget this scene:
I saw a young boy of about six or seven, dressed country from head to toe, waiting and hoping by the rail closest to the dirt for a real live cowboy to come along that might just talk to him. One did. He stopped his horse near that little buckaroo and spent a long moment with him, giving him advice, and telling him never to give up. Like I read this morning, you can't be a cowboy without having lots of heart.


Why do I love the rodeo?
I think I just told you.