Cowboy Up

The buzzer sounded but the rider did not get off. The pick-up men rushed over to assist him off the back of the bull. But still he stayed on the beast.

Suddenly the cowboy came off the back of the bull. His hand still caught up in the strap.

The bull shook him like a rag doll. Still the ride could not get loose.

The pick up men tried to get him undone. The bull fighters ran back and forth attempting to get close enough to undue the limp form attached to the spinning bulls back.

The bull raced across the open arena and smashed his left side and the cowboy into the railing. Then he dashed back and smashed the rider into the other side of the arena fence.

The medical crews were all along this fence. They had stood and watched in agony as this helpless cowboy continued to be thrashed about by this ton and a half monster.

As he passed by the medics he blew snot their way and raked the slats with his razor sharp horns.

Still the pick-up men and rodeo clowns could not get the man untied from the bull. The animal charged off to the other side of the rodeo grounds.

Then he changed directions. He spun back and forth and still the cowboy remained secured to the animal back.

On his third pass at blowing snot and raking the fence post, I decided to do something. Rodeo rules prohibit the involvement of anyone not hired to do what I was about to do.

Pulling out my boot knife, I flung myself over the fence and side ways over the bulls back. The bull spun to his right, the side I was on.

I felt his black and white horn touch him in the back, however I was too far in for the brute to hook me.

The rag doll cowboy was hanging from the bulls left side. I started cutting away at the rawhide that held him.

Suddenly the bull was spinning to his left. He shook his head as he leaped into the air on each successive spin.

His skin slipped underneath Doc as he struggled to hold on. Then he spun to his right again.

His horn struck me in the right lower back just above my hip. It felt like a two-by-four had just been broken over my body.

At that moment the cowboy fell away and I found myself pitching backward with a handful of leather in my hand. I heard a dull thud as I felt my body drop into the soft loam.

My instincts took control of my mind and body and I immediately started to crab-crawl backwards and out of the way.

The bull dug at the earth where I had lain. The bull-fighting clowns moved in as they now had two victims to save from the raging beast.

The bull was spinning to his right, digging at the air and then the ground with his horns. I continued to roll away and crawl to escape him.

At first I thought I was closer to the fence and safety than I really was. I had been nearly in the center of the arena and still had six more feet to go before I could roll under the fence and out of the arena.

One of the bull-fighters raced in front of me. He passed with in inches of the bull and those razor sharp horns.

The bull tracked on him. He followed this with a leaping spin to his left which carried him away from me.

Looking over my left shoulder to see how far from the fence I was, I rolled to my left and started to get up when I heard more than felt, a terrifying pop come from my left leg. The bull was standing on my Wranglers.

The bull was looking at the clown. In less than a second he was off and charging the clown and I was free to move towards the fence and safety again.

The searing pain that followed was so intense that I could no longer hear the crowd any more. Time slowed down to a crawl as I laid there and looked at my left leg seemingly growing longer as I dragged myself to the fence.

On my belly now, I had a hand on the lowest fence rail when the other medics yanked me under the fence. The bull was being head by a pick up man and they came tearing down the line right where I had been lying.

My head was swimming in pain. My left leg hurt even worse and my lower back throbbed.

The medical crew immediately cut my dirt-filled Wranglers off as well as my snap button shirt.

Slowly, I rose up to look at my leg, which looked to be half a foot longer than his right. I could see my knee cap appeared to be missing.

There was a large lump in the middle of my thigh and I concluded the thigh bone must be broken. I wiped my brow and discovered fresh blood matted over with the rich brown dirt of the arena.

My hands were skinned as was my right elbow. A traction splint was put on the battered leg and I was taken to the hospital, where I was given a shot of morphine to help with the pain.

“You’re pretty lucky,” said the Doctor when I finally came too. “No broken bones and only a bruised kidney and displaced knee cap.”

It took me three-days to recover from my battering. As for the rag-doll cowboy, he was treated for unconsciousness and ended up riding again the following day.

“If only they had a pain reliever for injured pride,” I repeatedly told myself.