Young Sarge and the rodeo bull
Young Sarge the rodeo rider.
When I was young (up to the age of 15 yrs.) we lived on a farm North of Sioux City, Iowa. We always had horses because Dad was a Rodeo rider. He didn't ride any more but he liked to get on the deck of a good horse and ride around the farm checking the crops and looking for varmints. There are some good memories in my heart from those duo rides my Dad and I took. He was normally a tacturn, quiet man but when we were alone and riding he would tell me all about his rodeo life. He went all over the midwest and even up to Canada riding bulls and bare back horses. I was bound and determined to be like my Dad and be a famous Rodeo rider.
I practiced riding my big Bay horse Star without a saddle but he was so broad in the back that I could barely get a grip on him with my legs. So the first time he decided to turn, I went the other way until I hit the ground. That begain to get old so I decided that bare back bronco was not for me. So I figured the only thing left was bull riding! Just the thought of one of those BIG monster bulls shivered my spine, but being a young and foolishly brave young man I was willing to give it a try. First I had to find a proper bull. I asked our neighbor if I could ride his BIG Champion Bull for practice and he just laughed. He told me in no way would he let me ride his prize Champion Bull. The money he got for breeding with his bull kept the rest of the farm in the black.
So I looked closer to homee. We had some yearly bull calves that had not been cut yet and they were still pretty frisky so they would have to do. I went to the corral with a lariet and big plans. Little sister followed me as usual. I clumb (yes I know it is suppose to be climbed) over the corral fence and walked toward the three yearlings. The slowly moved away from me. Finally I got within roping distance and cast my loop. The target calf just shook his head and walk out of under my loop. Funny the fence posts that I practiced on all the time didn't do that to me. Finally after chasing the three bulls around the corral about 6 times one of them goofed and turned his head the wrong way. My loop dropped perfectly on his head and slid down to his neck and I jerked it tight. The bull calf did me one better, he jerked his head and pulled me down to the ground. Then he decided that he did not like me and the best way to show that was to take me for a ride.
And he took off.
Dragging his bull rider along behind. Now you are probably wondering why I didn't just let loose of the rope. Stubbornness runs in the male side of our family and I got may share of it. I was sure he would slow down and let me walk up my rope and get on him.
He had no idea of doing that.
He was having too much fun. Kicking up his heels he sprayed me with dust, dirt and manure. Then the sadist came up with a real good punishing idea, he would run over the biggest cow pies that he could find and show me a thing or too. Splat, Splat Slat, and I was covered from chin to toes. I might have ended with just a couple of piles except my little sister must have thought I was doing it just for her and she was cheering the bull on. He loved the attention and speeded up his run. Now I was scooping up cow pies with my mouth and nose. It occured to me that now would be a good time to let loose of the dang rope but it was hopelessly tangled around my wrist and arm and opening my hand had no effect on it. The only thing I could think of doing is wear the creature down. So I dug my boot toes into the ground and became a living drag. By the time my second boot came apart the plan was working. The bull was wearing down. He was only mildly galloping. Then all of a sudden he stopped like he had run into something. And I rolled over and saw my Dad on the fence with his lariet in hand.
I was saved.
Mom looked out the door as Dad carried me in, and said "NO, not in my clean house, take him out to the barn and hose him down and then I will bandage him up." After that career jolting event I decided I wanted to be a Soldier just like my Dad was because they only shot at you, didn't drag you around.
If a man strikes you on the cheek
Being a Christian the only thing you can do
Is to help him up off the ground.