Holly Winter: Living the Life of Holly: Cheering for All the Wrong Reasons

Living the Life of Holly
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Column # 120 Cheering for all the Wrong Reasons

Kate and I have gone to watch Reese compete in Cheyenne Frontier Days, the largest rodeo in the country. We don't know the rules. Don't worry. We're ready to make up our own.

Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
Cheering for All the Wrong Reasons

“This’s dangerous.” Kate whispered.

I watched through squinted eyes. “Um. Are they crazy?”

“Someone’s going to get hurt.” She worried as she watched open mouthed.

We were watching the cowboys in the steer wrestling competition at Cheyenne Frontier Days, the largest rodeo in the country. Um. It was hard to relax with all the near death experiences going on.

“This can’t be worth the prize money.” She insisted.

No kidding. These guys race up to an unassuming cow and do the impossible. They slide off their horse HEAD FIRST onto the animal. Oh. I know. I know. Each time I want to jump out of my seat and scream, “Call 911! He fell off his horse!” But. That’s his job. To fall off his horse head first onto a galloping cow.

Next that cow, which is also called a steer, gets wrestled to the ground. Um. I know. No biggie there. You jump off a galloping horse onto my back and I’ll fall to the ground in an easy thud. The fact that all of the captured animal’s legs have to be pointed in the same direction seems pointless to me.

Nope. Sorry. The game’s not over yet. The strangeties continue. When the steer is good and down, the conqueror has to tie up the legs in a “just so” fashion so that the steer can’t wiggle lose.

I know. Now that the cowboy has risked his life and embarrassed the cow, he still isn’t guaranteed any prize money for a job well done. Nope. Not at all. You see. He has to ride out, fall on the steer, wrestle him to the ground, get his legs pointing in the same direction and then tie him up FASTER than anyone else if he wants to take home the money bag.

Man. Isn’t that a bit unrealistic? I mean. No wonder there are so many country songs about cowboys. The poor guys need a break because winning this prize money is nearly impossible. I swear. They must all work at McDonald’s to make ends meet in-between rodeos.

(And. I’m wondering why there aren’t more country songs about cows. You know… I just wanna make milk….)

And. I think it’s rude that people only cheer when the cowboy gets a good score. Um. Not Kate and me. We changed the rules. We cheered for every attempt. We cheered for the cowboy who got the cow. We cheered for the cowboy who missed the cow. We cheered for the cow who got away. Kate and I could enjoy a day at the rodeo. We really could. So what if we didn’t understand their rules.

Kate’s boyfriend, Reese joined us as another cowboy wrestled another steer.

“How do cowboys LEARN to jump on steers?” I asked.

“You ready to give it a try?” He laughed, slapping me on the back.

“Um. No. Thanks. Not me. I have enough trouble staying on a WALKING horse.”

Kate shook her head. “Have they thought about making these men wear hard hats under their cowboy hats?”

Reese gave her a long hard stare. He had been working the rodeos for over thirty years. We would watch him in the Senior Steer Roping Competition in a little while. “They don’t need hard hats.” He reasoned with a short shake of his head. “Cowboys are hard headed enough.” He laughed at his own joke.

We watched as another steer got away, proving again that cows don’t care about cowboys. They don’t care how cute cowboys look in tight jeans, how perfect their hats are shaped or how much they paid to enter these competitions. These animals do everything in their power to keep from getting caught.

“No time.” The announcer announced again as a cowboy sheepishly walked out of the arena.

“Poor guy.” Kate said, worrying a bit as she watched her man preparing to ride.

“I’ll see you gals in a bit.” Reece said as he popped the last of his breakfast donut into his mouth. “I have a steer to rope.”

What does one say for good luck? Break a leg? Win? Rope it?

“We’ll be watching.” I called after him.

We watched as cowboy after cowboy went out to rope his steer. Some roped a prize, other walked off empty handed. Kate and I clapped for them all.

“Look at that cow. He has the best markings.” I said, clapping wildly as if that was the prize.

“Forget the cow.” Kate insisted, giving a whoop. “Check out that cowboy chasing after him.”

“Girl. You’re right.” I said, adding to her whoops.

Reese’s turn came. He rode out as fast as he could, but that thirty foot head start that the steer is permitted in Cheyenne was too much for him. The steer got away. Oh. It was OK. We didn’t care. Kate and I cheered and yelled, excited to even know a cowboy.

Our defeated man made his way back to us.

“I heard you yelling.”

“Good.” We beamed.

“You know I lost, don’t you? I got no points.”

“Yes.” Kate laughed. “We saw the whole thing.”

“Well.” He said, slowly. “In this game you don’t cheer the losers. You only cheer the winners.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I said as I sipped my drink. “But. You should keep in mind that Kate and I like to cheer. So. Maybe next time you should win so we aren’t cheering for all the wrong reasons.”

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