Fried Twinkies, Buckle Bunnies, & Bull Riders

by Josh Peter

  Shriver got bucked off Slim to None—the bull’s name corresponding with Shriver’s chances of making the 2004 PBR finals. Then there was Tater Porter, who’d won almost $650,000 during his 9-year career with the PBR before injuries relegated him to the minors. At 33, he found himself competing with riders 10 years his junior. Standing in the comically named VIP room—with its thin supply of cheese squares, vegetables, water, and beer—Porter looked around at some of the young upstarts and said, “I’m wanting my old job back, and you see these 18-year-olds champing at the bit to get your job. So you better stay one step ahead.” That night Porter scored an 82 on Killin’ Time, enough to suggest a comeback was in the making but not enough to win any money in Thibodaux. Jared Farley, an 18-year-old from Australia, emerged as the first-night leader, with an 88-point ride. Unsure if the score would hold up for even a check, Farley bolted town and headed for the next bull riding event.

  Sunday morning, Jerry Nelson, his wife, Beverly, and Gay met for breakfast at the Ramada Inn. Between bites of eggs, bacon, and grits, they talked about the PBR and the state of bull riding. Nelson grumbled that the PBR was shying away from some of the ranker bulls, such as his own Satan’s Twin. This coming from the man who owned Knock ’em Out John when the bull knocked out Jerome Davis in a wreck that left the rider paralyzed from the chest down.

  Nelson also questioned the motivation of some of the riders on the minor-league circuit. “Chasing dreams?” he harrumphed. “They’re chasing the girls.”

  Gay moaned about how little the new riders knew about the sport, adding, “Justin McBride don’t know if bulls sleep on the ground or roost in the trees.” He also lamented the young riders buying their cards and going straight to the PBR-sponsored events, saying, “That’s like buying your kid a motorcycle or a machine gun and not giving him proper instruction and hoping he comes home okay.”

  Ignoring the dangers, many of the young riders were lured onto the minor-league circuit when they heard stories about riders like Luke Snyder.

  Stylish sideburns and a cherubic face gave the brown-haired, brown-eyed Snyder the look of a boy-band heartthrob. But he proved to be more than a pretty face. The kid named Luke from Raymore, Missouri, looked destined for stardom before he was old enough to drive.

  He finished runner-up at the International Youth Finals at age 16. Before he even turned pro, he had an agent and three endorsement deals. At 16, he finished runner-up at the International Youth Bull Riding Finals. But in 2001, his rookie season on the PBR, nobody could’ve guessed how fast and far he’d rise.

  Snyder finished third at his first Challenger Tour event and won another Challenger Tour event 3 days later. Just like that, he was on his way to the BFTS. But not alone.

  His parents, Michael and Susan, accompanied their son as he blazed through his rookie season, finishing fourth at the Tuff Hedeman Championship Challenge and consistently finishing in the top 10. Snyder qualified for the 2001 PBR finals and hit the jackpot in Las Vegas, winning the finals event championship. One of only two riders to ride all five of his bulls, he left Vegas as Rookie of the Year and with year-end winnings totaling almost $350,000.

  As soon as he got home to Missouri, he bought a $40,000 Cadillac Escalade equipped with 20-inch chrome rims. He blasted gangsta rap out of the industrial-strength speakers and looked like the PBR’s bling-bling solution in appealing to the young MTV crowd coveted by Madison Avenue marketeers.

  His climb fueled fantasies of more than a few young riders bent on instant success. But the idea of instant success was folly, because they knew only part of Snyder’s story.

  His bull riding career started on the living room couch. As a kid, Snyder tied a rope around the cushions, rode his own imaginary bulls, and instructed friends to conduct the postride “TV interviews.” He was preparing for fame, and his parents encouraged him. When Luke turned 8, Michael and Susan drove him across the country to youth rodeos, and the buzz began. Snyder’s parents paid for private lessons with Gary Leffew, a onetime world champion known as the guru of bull riding coaches. As Luke’s talent grew, so did his obsession with the PBR.

  At age 16, he called the PBR headquarters and asked about the possibility of doctoring his birth certificate. He couldn’t bear waiting until he turned 18, the minimum age for a rider to compete in a PBR-sanctioned event. Patience was not Snyder’s virtue.

  His parents pulled him out of high school after his junior year and put more than 50,000 miles on their camper, taking Luke from one rodeo to the next while they homeschooled him during his senior year. Then in moved agent Mark Nestlen and companies eager to attach themselves to bull riding’s next “big thing.” His rookie year only whetted the appetites of those looking for a fresh face in bull riding.

  Deciding Luke was old enough to take care of himself during his second PBR season, Snyder’s parents and Luke found new, unofficial chaperones—Ross Coleman, Justin McBride, and Cory Rasch, then three of the tour’s most notorious hell-raisers.During a get-together at a bull owner’s house, while Snyder was talking on his cell phone, Rasch shoved him into the pool. Snyder went bonkers. The cell phone was soaked and broken.

  “Just put it in the oven,” Rasch suggested.

  Snyder had a better idea. He walked into the bull owner’s kitchen and put his cell phone in the microwave. Thirty seconds later, the microwave blew up, the perfect metaphor for what loomed.

  He won his first regular-season BFTS event in 2002 but dropped from seventh to 16th in the final standings while earning less than half of the $350,000 he had taken home as a rookie. In 2003, he finished no higher than second at any event and finished 17th in the overall standings, earning $104,159. The rising star was sinking.

  Midway through the 2004 season, Snyder went 10 straight events without earning a check and during one stretch got bucked off nine bulls in a row. This was the part of Snyder’s story that young aspiring pros didn’t know—or ignored. Getting to the PBR was hard enough. The partying lifestyle made staying there just as hard.

  While Snyder was trying to get back on track in Fresno, California, the minor-leaguers were trying to make their fantasies come alive in the dank Thibodaux Civic Center.

  The minor-league circuit was a money pit for most, but it also was a breeding ground for future standouts. In 2004, 33 Humps N’ Horns events and the 49 Challenger Tour events provided an outlet for riders like Eathan Graves. Sunday in Thibodaux, he got the chance to compete against some of the best riders in the world.

  James Pierce, the event’s copromoter, had arranged to bring in Justin McBride and three other BFTS regulars—Ross Johnson, Brian Wooley, and Willis Trosclair. On Friday and Saturday, they’d competed in Fresno at the PBR’s 15th BFTS stop of the season. At six o’clock Sunday morning, McBride and company boarded a plane for New Orleans, where a limo was waiting to take them to Thibodaux.

  Shortly before the scheduled afternoon start Sunday at the Bud Light Humps N’Horns, the black stretch limo pulled into the parking lot, and out they stepped—McBride, Wooley, Trosclair, and Johnson, who just 2 weeks earlier had survived the scariest wreck of his life. “It’s just great to be here in Chicago,” he joked.

  When McBride swaggered into the dressing room, the loud chatter died. Even Wiggins, with his storyteller’s gift of gab, went silent. They were in the presence of a bull riding star.

  Outside the locker room, looking for his name on the draw sheet, Graves broke into a smile and pointed to the list. “Justin McBride,” he said.

  More than awestruck, Graves looked excited about his chance to ride against the PBR’s 2003 reserve world champion, because after the limo pulled off and after the special introduction for the PBR guys,McBride would have to stay on one of Nelson’s bulls for 8 seconds—just like Graves and all the other riders.

  McBride and the other PBR riders were competing as a favor to Pierce, but they were looking to do no favors for the likes of Graves. So maybe it was jet lag. Or overconfidence. Or the bulls. But the PBR guys went down l
ike rookies, McBride and the three others all getting bucked off in the first round.

  Graves, yet to ride, was settling on top of his first-round bull. Gay poked fun at Graves’s nonexistent butt, and the kid promptly rode his ass off. Like a toy sailboat bobbing atop crashing waves, he stayed afloat on Rapid Rat, electrified the small crowd, and advanced to the championship round with a score of 86.

  Riding last in the championship round, Graves had a chance to win his first event. But four jumps into the ride, he got bucked off, which relegated him to second place behind Jared Farley, whose 88-point score from Saturday night held up for the victory. He’d already left for his next event, so he would be receiving the check by mail.

  After changing clothes, Graves headed to Nelson’s cramped office. “Eathan, you want some money?” Nelson’s wife said.

  “I’d love it.”

  She handed him his second-place check of $2,740.40, and he asked where he might be able to cash it. Someone suggested he deposit it in his checking account. “Don’t have one,” said Graves, who produced a $1,100 uncashed check he’d won 2 weeks earlier.

  With the payday in Thibodaux, Graves learned, he had qualified to upgrade his status to cardholder, which would help secure spots at the Challenger Tour events and move him one step closer to the BFTS and the 2004 finals. Beaming, he walked into the parking lot, pulled out his cell phone, and called home.

  “Hey, Dad. Good. How are you? I won second. They bucked me off in the short-go, but I was only a couple of jumps from winning. I won 2,700 bucks.”

  Across the parking lot, Troy Kibodeaux paced in front of his truck. He was killing time—or it was killing him.

  He’d poked his head inside Nelson’s temporary office twice and found it crowded, so he returned to the parking lot and waited for the right moment. He wanted to know if Nelson was interested in buying Chocolate Chip, still in the pen outside the arena. Fact is, Kibodeaux hoped to leave Chocolate Chip with Nelson and drive home with $2,500 for his bull. He felt good after watching Pancho Flores ride the bull for an 83.5 and sixth place.

  “I’m just getting started—getting started at the bottom, where some people have to start,” Kibodeaux said. “Jerry gives a small man a chance to get in with the big guys.”

  With dusk setting in, Kibodeaux walked back inside the arena to Nelson’s office. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited for the Big Man to initiate the conversation. Looking up from a stack of papers, Nelson saw the aspiring stock contractor.

  “Bring him to New Iberia—we’ve got another bull riding over there April 16—and let me look at him again,” Nelson said.“Holler at me in 2 weeks.”

  Kibodeaux nodded. “Thank you, Jerry,” he said, collecting a $100 check, standard payment for each time a bull bucked at a Humps N’ Horns event.

  Minutes later Kibodeaux backed up his truck to the pen, loaded up Chocolate Chip, and began the 4½-hour drive home with $2,400 less than he’d hoped to have—but still with a bull and a chance.

  STANDINGS

  1 Adriano Moraes 5,930.5 points

  2 Mike Lee 4,687.5 points

  3 Justin McBride 4,469 points

  4 Jody Newberry 3,278 points

  5 Ross Coleman 3,177.5 points

  6 Greg Potter 2,994 points

  7 Mike White 2,604 points

  8 Reuben Geleynse 2,458 points

  9 Mike Collins 2,362 points

  10 Brendon Clark 2,350 points

  TEN

  PROTECTING THE BULLS

  Kansas City, Missouri

  Saturday & Sunday, June 12 & 13, 2004

  Randy Bernard stepped out of the locker room at Kemper Arena when a PBR official came running down the hall. “We’re introducing, and there’s not a cowboy out there.”

  Bernard looked frantic. “What were they thinking?” he fumed. “It’s not even seven o’clock.”

  Go-go-go!

  Fast as they could, the riders tromped down the hall toward the darkened arena, most heading for the alleyway. During competition, the alleyway serves as the exit for the bulls. But during introductions it serves as the entryway for most of the riders. First one in was Corey Navarre and . . . WHAM.

  Facedown in the dirt, Navarre looked up and saw the loose bull that had just run him over. While Navarre was helped to the sports medicine clinic, the other cowboys scrambled into the arena. About 30 minutes later, walking gingerly, Navarre arrived behind the chutes. The collision with the bull had sprained Navarre’s right knee and broken one of his ribs. He was out for the night—and hacked off about a preevent riders’ meeting, which in turn had led to his frantic run to the arena.

  “Stupid,” Navarre said, referring to the meeting’s subject matter. “Stuff we all know.”

  But it was no ordinary meeting—it had been triggered by angry bull owners.

  When it comes to bull riding, it’s the riders, not the bulls, who suffer most of the injuries. So for years promoters took precautions to protect the riders, such as requiring the bulls’ horns to be shaved until the ends were flat and no larger in circumference than a half-dollar coin. But now the stock contractors wanted more protection for their bulls, especially the prize ones worth $50,000 and up.

  Primarily, the owners were concerned about riders who were pulling their bull ropes too tight and lingering in the chutes too long. Or with the ropes wrapped around the bull’s girth and directly behind his front legs, lingering just long enough to “soak” the bull—rodeo vernacular meaning to cut off a bull’s circulation, sap his strength, and thereby reduce his bucking power. Riders under the most intense scrutiny were Ednei Caminhas,Moraes, and the other Brazilians, a group notorious for pulling tight ropes and fidgeting in the chutes. For more than 2 years, Robbie Herrington, a prominent bull owner, had stewed about the practice, and Herrington had clout.

  Most stock contractors, such as H. D. Page, stayed silent, worrying the issue would prompt animal-rights groups like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) to cause trouble. But Herrington wasn’t afraid of trouble, and his beef went back to an incident in June 2002.

  At the 2002 event in Louisville, Kentucky, Caminhas had been in the chute on Herrington’s bull Dillinger, the PBR’s Bull of the Year in 2000 and 2001, a bull that had cost Herrington $50,000 .As Caminhas shifted into position, with riders already having helped pull and tighten his rope, the bull dropped to his forelegs. Rising up, he dropped again. A bullfighter waved something in Dillinger’s face, trying to get the bull back on his feet, and Dillinger kicked his left hind leg through the chute slat and yanked it back out. Though Caminhas finally nodded for the gate and rode the bull, it would be Dillinger’s last ride.

  X-rays showed the bull had broken the hock in his left hind leg.

  “It’s time to do something,” Herrington barked at the back judge that day.

  “I’ve already fined him,” Herrington remembers the judge saying, to which Herrington replied:“Make him get off.”

  Convinced Caminhas was “soaking” the bulls, Herrington called the PBR office and asked for every one of Caminhas’s scores from the 2002 season. He sorted the data in a spreadsheet and found that Caminhas had scored an average of three fewer points than other riders on the same bulls. The implication: The bulls were underperforming with Caminhas on board because the Brazilian was cutting off their air supply while taking an excessive amount of time in the chutes. Herrington took the numbers to the 2002 finals in Las Vegas as evidence. But no action was taken as Caminhas went on to win the 2002 championship.

  In April 2004, at the Ty Murray Invitational in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Herrington exchanged heated words with Moraes after Herrington’s bull Coyote Ugly looked uncharacteristically sluggish during Moraes’s 81.5-point ride. “The little bull, he couldn’t take it,” Moraes said.

  “No shit,” replied Herrington, claiming that Moraes had sat on the bull for 4½ minutes before leaving the chute. “Let’s see if you can take it. Let’s weigh you down for about 10 minutes and see what
you can do. Goddang it, Adriano, you can ride the bull without doing all that.”

  The issue at last boiled over after the PBR’s May 15 and 16 Pennzoil Invitational in Springdale, Arkansas, and the PBR’s 20th BFTS event of the season. Moraes drew Hotel California, previously unridden and co-owned by Tom Teague and Dillon and H. D. Page. Though he rode the bull for 89 points, Hotel California looked sluggish during the ride and as he left the arena. When the Pages returned to their ranch in Ard-more, Oklahoma, they unloaded Hotel California from the hauling truck, and Dillon Page noticed a large lump shaped like a banana on the side of the bull.

  Within days the lump doubled in size, and a veterinarian determined it was a hematoma and said it likely had resulted from the pressure of the bull rope during its last ride. The bull, until then contending for Bull of the Year, would be out of competition for 8 to 10 weeks. News of the injury infuriated Herrington.

  Weeks earlier Dr. James Hall, a veterinarian whom Herrington and two other prominent contractors used, had urged Herrington to address the issue with the PBR. Herrington suggested Hall write a letter. Following Hotel California’s injury, Herrington e-mailed his veterinarian’s letter to the PBR headquarters.

  “I wish to decry a practice allowed within PBR that I feel is both cruel and unfair,” the letter began. “I am a practicing veterinarian, familiar with animal restraint in the old and new mode, and I believe that the ‘deep cutting’ of the bull rope into the heart girth is paralyzing and painful.

  “Please find the enclosed, the textbook description of ‘casting,’ by which grown bulls can be lain down and held. This is also cruel to ask these bulls to expand and ‘buck into’ these unyielding pressures. If we just want to ride the ‘nearly’ unrideable bulls, then how much better would it be to allow a tranquilizer to be given to ‘disadvantage’ the bull in a more humane form. . . .