Cowboy Up

Okay, so this was my first rodeo.

A billboard had caught my eye, I'd done some research and decided that yes, I did need to experience a rodeo before I die. Why not tonight?

A favorite couple had agreed that watching roping and riding was the way to spend a Saturday night, although their interest began to wane once the rain showed up.

Do rodeos get rained out? Won't it be a mud fest?

The word from Colonial Downs was that the rodeo was going on regardless of weather, so we put on boots and drove due east.

Walking in and presenting our tickets, a guard looked at my pink and green flowered rubbers - standing in sharp contrast to a sea of cowboy boots of all kinds and colors - and said, "Love your rain boots."

So there. Not exactly fitting in, but I couldn't if I'd wanted to.

It was a cowboy hat-wearing, jean-sporting crowd who filed in, some, like us, with chairs in hand and others making for the metal risers. We set up our chairs directly in front of the pen holding steers, a fact of which we were reminded every time the wind shifted.

Some of the cowboys climbed the fence and made their way through the crowd, including one wearing a New Mexico Junior College jacket over the standard outfit of jeans, Western shirt, boots and hat.

Not surprisingly given that it was Saturday night, there were plenty of couples and a fair number of them sat with the girl stretched out on the guy's lap, his hat tipped back so as not to interfere with their closeness.

It wasn't long before the announcer came out astride his horse to welcome the crowd, telling us he hoped to create lifelong rodeo fans out of us first-timers.

I couldn't have been more surprised when he instructed the crowd to turn off all electronic devices and strap yourself into your seat for wild ride.

Needless to say, no one followed the device rule.

Out came the rodeo clown dancing and tossing his hat to warm up the crowd.

Just when I thought the action was about to begin, I was reminded that only a heathen like me would jump right into something important like a rodeo without taking care of business first.

That meant our mounted announcer asked us all to bow our heads and led us in a prayer asking the big guy upstairs to help us make it through the arena of life so that when we all get to that lush green field in the sky, we're fortunate enough to find that all our entry fees have been paid.

I may have tittered a bit during the prayer and been reproached by my companions, but, come on, how do you not laugh at something like that?

The singer from country band Jackson Ward (yes, I'd come to New Kent to hear a band named after my 'hood) sang the national anthem while a mounted woman in a red glittery shirt holding a flag took the center spot and gave us all a patriotic focus.

Well, not all of us, because I noticed some of the cowboys were busy stretching and jumping around to warm up when they should have been standing rigidly at attention like the rest of us had been told to.

It may not have been ideal rodeo weather - it sprinkled very lightly through much of the show, although it was warm so it didn't matter much - but the sky was stunning with shades of velvety blue reaching down to the tree line.

The first event was bareback riding and to my surprise, many of the cowboys wore neck braces, an indicator of the potential bodily harm involved in riding a bucking bronco.

Interesting to me was that some laid back almost horizontal on the horse while others sat bolt upright as their bodies were jerked around unmercifully before a wrangler rode by and the rider grabbed hold of him to separate himself from the crazy horse.

A couple of the riders would drop to their knees and make a sign of the cross once back on terra firma. I feel your relief, brother.

And then there was the music. Each time a cowboy competed, a snippet of music was played, all of it cheesy classic rock.

Think I'm exaggerating? J. Geils' "Centerfold." Rolling Stones' "Start Me Up." Bon Jovi "You Give Love a Bad Name." Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop." Fortunately, never the entire song.

Calf roping came next and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like watching a helpless calf get thrown to the ground and his legs tied up.

The very first cowboy further convinced me of it when he chose to forfeit because once he'd gotten the calf roped and down on the ground, he realized he wasn't going to be able to tie it up without hurting it.

We saw several cowboys rope successfully, although I never got to the point where I enjoyed seeing the calf struggle. Call me a rodeo wussy.

There were several local cowboys from Mechanicsville, Sandston and New Kent participating but the crowd was generous enough to applaud everyone who performed, not just our own.

Or maybe the crowd was clapping their appreciation of the music. "Great Balls of Fire." "Old Time Rick and Roll." "My Sharona." "Jessie's Girl." It was hard to tell.

Turns out that a rodeo is as good as the State Fair for trashy food, meaning hot dogs, soft pretzels and funnel cake, all of which we sampled.

The announcer and rodeo clown both had southern accents you could cut with a knife. Like so many one-syllable words, New Kent became two: New Ke-ent. Fe-ence. Pa-ants.

I was curious about rodeo sexism when the cowgirls came out to do calf roping because all they had to do was throw the rope around his neck, not jump down and tie up the feet.

It seemed like the rodeo version of girl push-ups and while I certainly wouldn't want to rope a calf, surely some women must.

The rodeo clown was a big part of the show, dancing to all kinds of songs including Right Said Fred, Chic and Micheal Jackson, but he also turned out to be a three time world champion rope twirler.

He showed us his crazy roping skills, jumping in and out of lassos he was twirling.

There was even a massive pink rope he used for good. "With your help and god's grace, we're gonna get all 65 feet of pink rope out there and fight breast cancer," the announcer said before the clown managed to twirl that pink rope in an enormous circle around his body.

I wasn't exactly sure how he was raising money but the rope sure was pink.

Then we were up to steer roping and this was the first event where the cowboys got to use a helper.

Two mounted cowboys came barreling out with a steer between them and one dropped down on top of the hapless steer and wrestled him down while the other cowboy wrangled the now-riderless horse away from the action.

In such a small area, it was ridiculously fast, quantified by the announcer as 35 miles per hour. 35!

I was told that the key was for the steer roper to ensure his foot cleared the stirrup or else he was likely to break his foot.

What you have to imagine with all these wild and hectic competitions going on is that every cowboy and cowgirl starts out wearing a hat, no matter what crazy thing they're about to do.

Why you'd want to drop onto a steer wearing headgear other than a protective helmet, I can't imagine, but let's remember, this is my first rodeo.

Of course, maybe they were hoping the hat would drown out the cheesy music. "I Love Rock and Roll." "The Warrior." "I'm So Excited." Yeesh.

Last up was team roping where one cowboy ropes the neck and the other the feet and they sort of stretch out the poor animal for a few seconds.

It happens incredibly fast; the winner did it in 4.9 seconds.

Some of the competitor teams were females and, in once case, a cowgirl succeeded at roping not long after her husband had failed.

"Cowgirls don't forget anything," the announcer informed us.

I've also heard they get the blues, but since I'm the furthest thing from a cowgirl you're going to find, I'm no expert.

But now I do know what a rodeo entails and maybe, just maybe, when I get to that lush green field in the sky, I'll find that all my entry fees have been paid.

Yea, I know. Not likely.