Little known fact about me: I grew up watching rodeo with my dad, especially the bull riding. While I don't religiously follow the PBR (Professional Bull Riders) (a lot of times I don't watch it unless I'm at the folks'), I will watch it -- excitedly -- if I come across it on TV. I have a favorite rider (Adriano Moraes). I can pretty much tell a good ride from an excellent ride, and I can tell you when a fellow is going to get a reride option.
A couple of weekends ago, I saw an advert for a PBR event here in NOLA. My jaw dropped. The PBR in NOLA?? Finally, last weekend I broke down and investigated how much the tickets were, and I reserved one for championship Sunday -- today.
I'm glad I splurged. It was worth the money. It was worth getting razzed by my pals. I had a blast. The bulls were having a fabulous day, the cowboys not so much. Even my Adriano -- three time PBR World Champion -- was bucked in 2.5 seconds (out of 8, for those who don't know). But there were no major injuries, and that's a beautiful thing for everyone.
If I have the chance to ever go again, I will take it. I'm a born-and-raised farm girl.
Well, it's bulls and blood
It's dust and mud
It's the roar of a Sunday crowd
It's the white in his knuckles
The gold in the buckle
He'll win the next go 'round
It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
It's the ropes and the reins
And the joy and the pain
And they call the thing rodeo
4 comments:
Dang, now that song is stuck in my head.
** Little-known hick fact about me: That song is in my iPod rotation. Eeek.
Great song! That does sound like fun! My fav are the brahmas--they are so Pretty!
Okay...while I couldn't tell you who sings the song...I do know the tune. This is mainly because the 1 year I went to public high school in Tennessee the bus driver played country music the entire time, to and from school. It was like the bus to hell- mainly because when the Macarena came on the entire bus did the entire damn dance (except me because I was in catatonic shock). Next time I'll go with you and we'll get buckle bunny t-shirts.
It's Garth Brooks. And as anyone who knows me knows, I don't normally do country at all. Rockabilly, yes. Country, no. Unless it's Johnny Cash/Willie Nelson/Kenny Rogers/Dolly Parton/Loretta Lynn old-skool country.
But there was something about being a teenager in Kansas in the late '80s/early '90s that allowed Garth to slip into my conscious. Just don't tell my friends in low places, ok?
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