P. O. Box 575  • Sealy, Texas •  979-877-4822  •  alan@cowboysportsnews.com

Big Al's View Of The World

COWBOY SPORTS NEWS MAGAZINE  AUGUST 2018


It wasn’t our weekend to bring home the money. The first weekend was decent but the second was not a great drawing for us. We didn’t enter one rodeo for the slack because they were predicting rain. We entered the perf and I think most of the money was won in the slack when it didn’t rain. We went to another rodeo in the slack only to have a storm blow in and knock out the lights. 20 minutes later we were back in business. We entered our final rodeo for the Saturday performance because we figured it would be the best time to go. Wrong!!!

It had rained before the first nights perf and the perf and the slack were both a muddy mess. The times were all over the place coming into Saturday night. My son had actually drawn the calf they were winning second on in the rodeo. All was good for Saturday night’s perf. They had tilled the arena nice and pretty to get it over the muddy mess it was the night before. Things had just about dried out in the parking lot. The flags were flying and the music was playing. The National Anthem and the prayer in a Texas Hill Country town were a great finish to the weekend and we were counting our money on a good calf finally beside our name.

That was until the first breakaway roper was riding into the box. It was like a scene from the Perfect Storm movie. You know the one where the fishing boat is bouncing from wave to wave in the hurricane. The lightning is popping and the crew is scared for their lives. Yeah, that scene!

It was not fun nor was it funny. The flag man was braver than me standing out there with his little flag in the air for the breakaway ropers. It was raining so hard and so fast that it didn’t take but a few minutes for that nice tilled fluffy arena to turn into ten inches of muddy fluff. By the time the breakaway roping was over the storm had just about blown over. As if it wasn’t bad enough that we were all soaked to our socks they then proceeded to have a calf scramble before the tiedown started. There must have been some pretty bad kids that weekend for their moms to send them into a mud pit with lightning still popping all around. I never saw the cameras but I figured they had to be filming a Tide commercial that night. Why else would a bunch of yuppie parents let their kids go out into a muddy arena and chase calves down for $20. They had to spend $200 to replace the snickers and clothes they ruined during the calf scramble.

Not to mention the kids, I wasn’t very comfortable either. This rodeo was only three and half hours away from the house and we had come home the night before so we just threw the horse into the stock trailer and took off that afternoon. No need for the living quarters for a quick turnaround haul. Wrong again! I usually keep at least another shirt or some socks in the living quarters. In my stock trailer I found an old beer bottle my wife had thrown up in the nose and a piggin string we used to tie up gates with. All weekend we had entered slacks and I had just gone to the rodeos with not the best of clothes. It was hot and dirty and I’ve been married for 25 years. I wasn’t chasing girls anymore. Well on this night I figured it was Saturday night and maybe I would dress up a little bit so I put on my nice boots and some nicer pants for the trip.

My soaked underwear and socks were not so dry when we left town that night and before we had even gotten to the highway they were starting to work their way into places they weren’t meant to be. Three and half hours later at 2 in the morning as I was able to get out of my wet clothes I started trying to figure out why I wanted to wear nice clothes this particular night. My boots were on the porch so muddy I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to get them clean. My pants were almost standing up by themselves from the mud and being dried to my butt for four hours. And my brand new hat that I had only worn maybe ten times was now form fitted to my head.

To make things worse, it turns out our horse was not a “mudder.” He loped down the pen behind the best calf we had drawn all weekend. The rodeo was so wide open that half the people placing in the timed events came from that raining muddy performance. It just wasn’t our weekend.

Because it was Texas all we had to do was wait until the next day. 95+ degrees will dry out the mud on your boots into a brown concrete.

Dried out and waiting
on the next rain,

Big Al

 


August 2018 Cowboy Sports News Magazine

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