On The Bull

Before I tell you about my trip to the Professional Bull Riders Worcester Classic, let me get something out of the way. Last year I wrote about a monster truck rally that also took place at the Worcester Centrum Centre, but don’t get the wrong idea: The Centrum doesn’t host just monster truck rallies and bull-riding competitions. It’s home to a wide range of culturally diverse events, from the IFMA Freestyle Motocross to the Fishing and Outdoor Exposition to the Central New England RV and Camping Show. No doubt they’ll stage an opera there any time now.

Sadly, I can’t claim that it was my idea to go to the rodeo. But when I got an invitation that included the words “party bus,” “bull riding” and “Worcester” in the same sentence, I signed up. After all, I’m usually wearing chaps on Saturday night anyway.

A party bus, for those who’ve yet to have the pleasure, is basically a 15-passenger shuttle van accessorized with a gigantic beverage cooler. Our bus also felt as if some prankster had stolen the springs out of the suspension and replaced them with granite pillars. Each pothole would send everyone bouncing off their seats, which, with one hand free and the other devoted to gripping a beer, lent an appropriate bull-riding atmosphere to the trip.

Outside the Centrum, there were three protesters holding signs that read, “Bulls are dying for your entertainment.” However, nobody was holding a sign that read “Southerners are getting trampled by bulls for your entertainment,” so apparently that aspect of the show wasn’t a problem for the activists. To my untrained eye the bulls did not die at all, and in fact generally tossed off the unwanted passenger in a matter of seconds before chasing him around the ring for a bit of additional sport.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before the riding began, the crowd had to get properly riled up. The introduction of the riders began when flame-belching towers in the ring shot whistling moon rockets into the ground, setting aflame a giant “USA” in the dirt. After the riders were introduced, the emcee led everyone in prayer. I don’t normally pray in stadiums unless a crucial third down is involved, but when a bellowing voice from above commands you to pray, you should probably do it just in case it’s actually God.

Once the competition started I quickly lost track of who was winning, partly because of the sheer number of riders and partly because of the sheer number of beers I’d consumed on the party bus. Basically, a bull would come running out with a hat-wearing man clinging precariously to his back; the bull would dislodge the man; and the man would either fling his hat triumphantly into the air, or cling to the fence if the bull decided to rough him up a bit.

Only one guy, who was unfortunate enough to fall off in front of the bull, really seemed to be in any danger throughout all this. The bull didn’t poke him with his horns, but got right down in his face and appeared to be trying to bite him for a few seconds. I think that a bull’s horns and impressive trampling ability tend to make people forget that bulls also have very large mouths, and getting bit by one wouldn’t be very much fun at all.

That rider, Ednei Carminhas, escaped with only bruises (the PBR Web site has a section detailing the injuries suffered by riders). The PBR has its health coverage sponsored, which no doubt cuts costs, but it sounds a little strange when they work in a sponsor plug while describing gory injuries. For example, take this account, which concerns our friend “Bleedin’” Ednei: “Ednei Carminhas was struck behind his right ear by a horn, sustaining a laceration that required suturing in the HEALTHSOUTH Sportsmedicine Team training room.” And after the blood stopped pouring out of his punctured head, Ednei took an American Red Cross Blood Break—Red Cross, the Right Blood for You!

At the end of the night, a guy named Lee Akin took home $53,095 in prize money. That’s right, $53,095 for a total of 25 seconds’ worth of work. I’ve downloaded a PBR membership application, and while I’ve not yet been aboard a bull, I’m an optimist. I’m practicing throwing my hat. ∂