It’s cooling off in the Northwest and I’m grateful for it. I have a tough bull tonight, but I’m feeling good, really good actually. Something about having Kacey with me just feels right.
I take my wrap, a deep breath, slide up, and nod. The bull rears up like he’s trying to jump over the opening gate.
Shit.
I climb out over him as far as I can. Thankfully, we avoid a wreck. He turns back to the left. He has a belly roll at every kick. I drop my free arm and try to touch my left ear to my left shoulder to keep him from shifting me to the outside. And the way his loose hide rolls under me makes it that much tougher. This is going to be a bear fight the entire ride. No wonder this bull doesn’t get ridden very often and has never been ridden by a righthander. He isn’t what we call rider-friendly.
My internal clock is telling me we have to be getting close to the whistle. He rolls again and almost gets me to the outside when I use every bit of my core strength to shuffle my hips as hard to the left as I possibly can. He rears and I drive over him, but something feels off. His back end drops like he’s falling.
The whistle blows, but I’ve slid too far away from my rope, and he has gathered himself back up. I panic and try to get my tail as the bull lunges forward. Like in slow motion, I see the tail of my rope wave in front of me as my free hand misses it by a half inch.
Well, fuck. This isn’t good.
When the bull kicks, he throws my body forward, nearly hitting a horn on the cage of my helmet. I’m hung up, standing on the dirt next to the bull, but my hand is stuck in my rope.
When a bull rider is hung up, his number one goal is to stay on his feet. If you can stay standing, you’re far less likely to get stomped all over. His second goal is to grab his tail and yank it out, freeing his hand, which is much easier to do if you’re on your feet.
Unfortunately for me, this bull is smart and mean. As soon as he sees me, he turns back into me, slinging his horns, trying to hit me. I catch one to my right thigh as I reach over him with my free hand, trying to grab my tail. A bullfighter is on the other side trying to grab it when the bull throws his head at him and catches under a knee, sending him up into the air.
His focus goes back to me, and he gets his head under my chest and bounces my ribs off the top of his horned head—knocking every bit of air out of my lungs. When I make contact the second time, he hits me harder, and my hand comes out of my rope. I get flung through the air and hit the dirt.
I look up, see the bucking chutes, and begin to crawl toward them. Trying to suck in any air I can, hoping the bull isn’t coming back to finish me off. As soon as I reach the chutes, a latch man grabs hold of me and helps me climb the gate.
The bull fighters did well keeping the bull from me while I made an escape. As soon as he’s out of the arena, I stand at the gate with my arms raised, trying to catch my breath. Sports Medicine reaches me asking if I’m okay. I just nod and tell them I need air. It’s going to hurt way worse tomorrow than it is right now.
Trey
You’re supposed to let go.
Great, this must have been on TV.
Knox
Shut up. You’d be here if you would’ve held on.
He sends me the middle finger emoji.
Trey
Seriously though, you good?
Knox
It would be nice if my ribs could stop taking a beating this summer, but yes, I’m fine.
Knox
Now we have approximately twelve good ribs between the two of us. Go us
Trey
Hilarious.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve caught my air and I’m packing my bag when I look over and see Kacey standing on the other side of the panels.
Shit.
She looks worried; I should’ve texted her and told her I was fine. I’m not used to having anyone but Trey around, so it didn’t even cross my mind. I drop my chaps I was folding and head her way.
