Eric Goes Bull Riding!

(all photos at the bottom ordered and numbers)

I was planning to keep a running record of one of my favorite weekends of the year, Gasparilla Pirate Festival, when tragedy struck: it rained!  It wasn’t just rain, it was a deluge.  Hour after hour for the entire weekend, buckets of water flooded the streets of Tampa Bay.  I watched in agony as my favorite weekend of debauchery, public drunkenness, and women willing to trade their dignity for plastic beads got washed away. (1)

Did I still start the day at Dave Moyer’s annual Kegs and Eggs (sans the eggs) party?  Yup.  Did I still dress as a pirate and look like a total moron?  Of course. (2)  Did I drink a lot and go to a parade?  Oh, you bet cha.  But was the event peculiar or memorable?  No, and that is a problem because when you operate a website of witty short stories you need unforgettable subject matter to write about.  Due to weather, Tampa’s renowned Gasparilla Pirate Festival was a total bust.

Just as it looked like the whole weekend was going to be chalked up to Crown Royal and Nintendo Wii, a light shown down from the heavens onto a billboard I passed on my way to the grocery store.

Eric Prae:  (talking to a friend while driving) Did that sign back there just say that bull riding is coming to the Forum this weekend?

Friend:  Yeah, PBR comes every year.

Eric Prae:  Did you say PBR?  There is an actual Professional League for Bull Riding?  Like the NBA or NFL, but for hillbilly’s flying off of the backs of real live bulls?

Friend:  Ummm, yes.  What planet do you live on?  Don’t you have cable?  They show bull riding on cable sometimes.

Eric Prae:  Ummm, the fact that events like bull biding are on TV is exactly why I don’t have cable.

Friend:  Bro, you live in the south now.  People love that kind of stuff.

Time to make some lemonade!  If it’s too wet for Gasparilla, let’s go bull riding!

 

That Sunday I walked to the Forum, skipping over rain puddles, giddy in anticipation of my first ever encounter with PBR.  Not even a wicked hangover could stop me today!  I was attending this illustrious event with my friend “Sun Goddess” who wasn’t happy that I woke her up early to do something so stupid.  Before I went to the ticket sales office, I got some of the event protesters to stand together for a picture. (3)  I love protesters!  But after reading their signs I got a little worried.  I turned to Sun Goddess and said:

Eric Prae:  Wait, they don’t kill the bull’s right?  I thought that was bull fighting, not bull riding.

Sun Goddess:  I’m pretty sure they just ride the bulls.

Eric Prae:  Then what are those people so mad about?  I don’t want to go to an event that involves animal cruelty.

Sun Goddess:  (sarcastically) I’m not sure. Why don’t you ask them?

I start walking across the street.

Sun Goddess:  No dipshit!  I was being rhetorical.  Let’s not bother those people.  The cowboys just ride the bulls!  LET’S GO!

Obviously she forgot that starting arguments with random strangers was a hobby of mine.  Oh well.

We got into the venue and it quickly became very apparent that we weren’t dressed appropriately.  Ok, that’s an understatement.  Compared to the rest of the PBR fans we looked like total idiots.  I was standing there in my usual “Tampa Tuxedo” (baggy jeans, organic t-shirt and flip flops).  A bunch of “real men” in tight Wranglers, cowboy boots, and button downs looked disdainfully at the hippie free spirit city slicker.  I must have left my “Palin for President” poster back at the house.  Shit.

The first highlight of the day was the unbelievable firework show that ended by burning the letters USA into the dirt. (4)  It was really sweet.  Then Puff Daddy blew us away with a rap rendition of the Star Spangled Banner…  Ok, I made that up.  The National Anthem was sung country-style by a blonde with a cowboy hat that everyone, but me, recognized.  Good start to the afternoon.

Before we go any further, let me explain to you how bull riding works.  Don’t feel badly if you didn’t know. I had to Google it on my Crackberry because I truly had no idea what the hell was going on.  Before this experience, the closest I had ever come to live bull riding was at a bar in Syracuse, NY called Daisy Dukes. I would convince drunk girls to ride a fake bull so I could hit on them while their boyfriends were at the bar wasting money on Jager Bombs.

Bull riding 101 for Dummies:

A dude hops onto a 2000 pound pissed off animal and tries to stay on its back for 8 seconds while the animal tries to murder him.  After 8 seconds a buzzer goes off like someone won a game show and the Cowboy jumps off.  A bunch of grown, conservative, men dressed like the band KISS run around and distract the animal in a sort of organized chaos. (5)  If the cowboy falls off the bull before 8 seconds, that is a fail.  A helmet is completely optional for a rider; a Cowboy hat is not.  The cowboy is then judged by a panel of experts on a point system that no one really understands or questions (the exact same way it is done on Dancing With the Stars, but without the flamboyant uber-dickhead Bruno Tonioli.) (6)

The coolest part of the competition is that not only do the cowboys have rankings and statistics, the bulls also have rankings and statistics!  (We’ll get back to that in just a second)  Plus the bulls have cool names and they have their pictures up on banners just like the cowboys.  The animals aren’t harmed in bull riding.  They are rock stars! (7)

At the end of the day the cowboys are ranked and then get to select the bull they want to ride in the finals.  The highest rank gets to select first, then the second highest, and so on.  Then PBR holds a last final round that somehow counts more than the previous rounds, but the previous rounds are also factored in (a part of the point system that no one really understands or questions).  The fact that the cowboys get to grab the microphone and announce what bull they want to ride adds strategy, and a lot of unintentional comedy.

Back to the bulls and their rankings. Every bull has a player card that the cowboys can read and compare so they can make the best selection for which bull they want to ride in the finals.  I assume that a smart bull rider would pick the “easiest” bull or the bull that has not thrown riders before the full 8 second buzzer.  For example, if you were a cowboy and it was your turn to select your final bull for the day you would look down at your “Bull Roster” card and probably go with a bull with a name like “The Chick from Hanson” over a bull named “Chuck Norris’ Biceps”.  Also, this ranking and choosing system keeps the bull riders competitive during the preliminaries because the better you do early on, the better chance you have of picking first and getting a wussy Bull like “The Chick from Hanson”.  While most of us wouldn’t want to ride a live bull at all, even the most experienced rustler wants no piece of “Chuck Norris’ Biceps”.

Get how it works?  Not really?  Me neither.  But, let’s roll with it and move on.

The head rodeo clown is the MC for the afternoon.(8)  You read that right.  The grown man in Halloween makeup that is running from irate male cows is the same guy that is in charge of the whole show.  Plus, the guy is REALLY talented.  He has to do everything.  He sings, dances, runs up into the crowd while also performing the duties of the rodeo clown.  At one point in the show the clown performed the Single Ladies dance by Beyonce.  This had me in tears.  After watching the clown work the audience, I realized I had truly missed my calling in life.

Next the home town hero got his chance to perform.  Every rider and bull gets announced before the ride, but there was one professional rider from Kissimmee, FL (right down the road from Tampa) who got a standing ovation from the crowd.  At that moment even I was on my feet rooting for the young man, who had a smile ear to ear, as he played the baby face fan favorite role.  His entrance music: “Bad to the Bone” (what else?).  For a brief moment the guy was b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bad.  We found our champion!  Let’s do this!  8 seconds on the back of a massive beast ain’t shit to this Superhero.

Did he ride his wave of local fame to glory?  Not exactly.  Before “Bad to the Bone” was even through its second chorus, the gate flew open and the ride began.  Unfortunately someone forgot to tell the rider.  First, the bull bucked back, the cowboy flew back.  Then the bull bucked forward and our hero flew forward hitting his head on the bull’s back.  Then the bull bucked back violently and our hero went flying into the air.  Since his hand was strapped to the saddle, he was somehow still actually riding.  When the bull bucked forward again he went head first into a second major collision with the back of the bull’s head.  CRACK!  When the rider’s head was done skipping off the back of the bull’s, he went limp and landed on the ground with a thud.  He was completely motionless as the team of rodeo clowns got the bull under control and back into the pen.  The whole crowd stood there silently imploring the young man to get up.

Sun Goddess:  Is he dead?

Eric Prae:  When the protestors outside were crying about animal cruelty, I’m not sure they were worried about the right animal.  Is there a stat on that bull’s sheet for “killed a dude”?

Our hero eventually got to his feet, and gave a bow as the crowd once again adorned him with praise.  Although this time, it was in pity.  We were all secretly hoping he wouldn’t die that night in the hospital from the two concussions he sustained in the last four seconds.  To add insult to injury the judges made sure we all knew that he only held on for a few seconds and gave him a really low score.  Captain Obvious has struck again!

The best moment of the event came, ironically, when there wasn’t even a bull present to hurt someone.  The bull riders had their rankings for the day and were coming to the microphone to make their final selections when we ran into a problem.  One of the riders didn’t speak English and wasn’t sure how to make his selection.  Here is the conversation over the microphone for the whole crowd to enjoy:

Announcer:  Hey yall, up next is a feller who is a damn good rider but just doesn’t speak the language!  He is from Arrrr-gen-tina!

The crowd cheered while the Foreign Rider waved and smiled. 

Announcer:  We’re gunna have one of his friends come on up here and help him out.

Then a shorter Cowboy came running up all friendly like.  The Foreign Rider looked confused.  He didn’t seem to remember this man being his friend.  The shorter Cowboy started pointing to his “Bull Stat Sheet” and indicating a few options.

Short Cowboy:  (leaning into the microphone with a devious smile) He’ll ride “Blue Suede Shoes”!

Foreign Rider:  (confused) No, no, no!  No Blue Suede Shoes!

Announcer:  Hell yeah!  Blue Suede Shoes it is boy!

Foreign Rider:  (trying very hard to muster up a bit of clear English) No, no Blue Suede Shoes!

Announcer:  Great, it set then!

The shorter Cowboy then busts a gut laughing along with the crowd.  Turns out Foreign Rider just got completely screwed and nobody gave a crap.  What a great sport!

What happened when foreign rider got his turn to ride “Blue Suede Shoes”?  Well he got his ass kicked and quickly.  Didn’t even last half of the allotted 8 seconds.  The look of disgust and anger on his face as he lifted his mangled mess from the dirt was priceless.  And once again, no one seemed to care.  Hilarious.

What did I learn from this notable event?  That bull riding is entertaining as hell, even if you have no idea how the point system works.  And next time I’ll remember to drive a Ford F-150 and wear a cowboy hat.  I am definitely going back to the PBR event in Tampa next year.

But, please, please, please don’t ever let it rain during Gasparilla Pirate Festival again.

 

Photos from the Story

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