Once upon a time, I doted on God’s green earth, and the livestock that grazed the open fields.  I loved the smell of horse manure; it is an acquired smell.  A cowboy is three things: A dreamer, an idealist, and a poet at heart; these are the words of Chris LeDoux, a singer-song writer and world champion bareback rider.  I believe Chris LeDoux’s words to be true.

I rode my first bull when I was five years of age; it was on Craig’s back, my oldest brother, in Grandma Tilley’s front yard.  I bucked off and hit my head on the water-meter cover, and my father took me to the doctor where I had to get five stitches.  That was a proud moment in my childhood.  Little did I know I would ride a real bull nineteen years later.

I was not born on a ranch, nor was I raised in the west, but I do have some cowboy tradition in my blood.  My grandfather used to train horses, and my father started riding horses when he was a boy.  I grew up in the town of Mebane NC; the closest thing I had to a horse was my faithful dirt bike.  I always enjoyed being outdoors and banging myself up.  If I had it my way, I would have been raised on a ranch, but I guess there are some things I can not control.  Do not get me wrong; I had a wonderful childhood with my family.

When I was about nineteen or twenty, my father bought a horse named Champ; he was a sorrel quarter-horse gelding, with a blaze and three socks.  Almost every day I would go with my father to the stables where he kept Champ.  My father never asked me if I wanted to learn to ride, and I did not ask him if I could learn; my father and I were at that awkward stage when a father and son have a hard time communicating.

Eventually, I became interested in horses and rodeo.  I fell in love with the cowboy life when I went to my first rodeo a couple of years after my father bought Champ.  I found the family-like atmosphere, the smell of manure, cowgirls in tight Wrangler jeans, the excitement and the romanticism to be very intriguing.

When I was twenty-four, my father took me to a professional bull riding event at the Greensboro Coliseum.  There was something so American about the cowboys who came busting out of the chute-gate strapped to an angry, 2,000 pound, snot slinging, head swinging, mud throwing, stomp your lights out bull; with one hand suspended in the air as if to say, “I am wild and free.”  I thought these guys were pretty courageous, though a lot of people would say they are crazy.  Nevertheless, I knew I wanted to try it, and my father could see the aspiration and desire in my eyes; he said,”I knew I should not have brought you to this event,”

Because I had been hanging out with my father, I was already wearing cowboy hats, wranglers, belt buckles and cowboy hats; plus, I was singing country music at a local grill and bar, so I was already halfway there.  I started telling family and friends that I wanted to ride bulls, and they did not seem to understand why, but I did not care as I was very determined to ride.  Besides, at this point I had been on a few trail rides on a horse, so I felt like I was ready to take on bulls.

My father told me about a guy who kept his horse at the same stable where he kept Champ and told me that he was riding bulls.  I knew this was my opportunity to get my first ride in.  My father and I followed him to Gibsonville, NC.  We arrived to the small arena and I could feel my eyes light up when I saw it; this is what I have been mentally been preparing for.  Still I could feel the butterflies welling up in my stomach; I was as nervous as I have ever been in my life-time.

I had to pay an entry fee, and I had drawn a bull called Red Kennedy.  As I stood among the cowboys, they knew it was my first time; I was probably white as a ghost.  The cowboys were saying stuff like, “Red Kennedy bucks!” and “You better hang on!”  I thought, “This is going to be fun!”

When they put my bull in the chute, I was standing on the upper walkway behind the chutes staring down at the bull I had drawn.  The butterflies in my stomach were significantly stronger, and I admit I was scared out of my mind.  I was taking deep breaths when I noticed a young cowboy looking up at me grinning from ear to ear.  Finally, they announce my name, and in fact, murdered the pronunciation of my Italian last name; it was then I looked across the arena to my father, and I could tell he was just as nervous as I was, if not more so.

It was time, so I climbed into the chute to straddle the red bulls back; he was covered with gnats and had excrement all over his rear end.  The cowboys were trying to comfort me saying “You can do it!  You can win the money!  Just slide and ride!”  About that time, Red Kennedy decided he did not want me on his back, and he tried to jump out of the chute with me on his back.  Finally, the bull settled down some; it was time.  The bull fighters were standing fast in cleats, and I nodded and said, “Let’s go boys!”

Red Kennedy busted out of the chute as if his tail was on fire; he bucked two or three times and I became air born for a couple of seconds before I came crashing down to the hard earth.  With the breath knocked out of me, I ran to the fence trying to gasp for the air that was missing from my lungs, but I had rode him out of the chute and came out just fine.  I was still high from the adrenaline rushing through my veins, and I had never experienced any thing like it before.  I knew I had to do it again, and eventually I did.

I rode bulls from the ages 24 to 26.  I did not get to ride as much as I wanted because I was either too broke to pay the entry fee or too injured.  I have to admit I was good at riding bulls, but I had to give it up when I got a DWI while I was living near Charlotte, NC.  It is hard to get to a bull riding or a rodeo without a driver license.  I still have great memories and lessons learned during my bull riding days, and I am grateful to God I did not die while doing it because many great cowboys have.

The cowboy in me will always remain.  I am grateful for my small cowboy heritage that comes up big when the going gets tough.  A cowboy is a simple man with simple values; they like good horses, wild rides, and romance.

Take care, and God bless!

Chris