Eight Seconds

“Bull riders face their fears by riding them,” that's my mantra, and it's been playing on a loop in my brain for the last twenty minutes.

Everything I've gone through for the last fourteen months has led me here. The pain, the recovery, the fear, the fight to stand up and walk again has all led me to this moment.

I don’t have much time to get my shit together as the new kid, the star, Tommy Darcy, is already climbing into the chute, and I'm next. I thought I had it all under control, all the fear and anxiety that I've hidden so well until I walked into the arena.

The scents and sounds of this place have been my life for almost fifteen years, and I loved it. The roar of the crowd and the smell of dirt, leather and angry bulls was like an aphrodisiac and addictive to me until that day fourteen months ago, when both my legs and four ribs were broken by an act of pure stupidity.

At the top of my game and in the final of the competition, I drew Lightning, a bull that was also at the top of his game and had never been ridden. No one had lasted more than four seconds on the back of this tightly wound eighteen hundred pounds of angry muscle.

Back then, I didn't feel fear as I climbed onto his back and secured my grip on the bull rope. There's no place for fear, and no thrill comes close to climbing on the back of the meanest monster in the game, and Lightning was that monster. You feel like a modern-day gladiator doing battle in the arena to the roar of the crowd.

Bull riding has been called "the most dangerous eight seconds in sports,” but to a professional rider on the back of a bull that had never been ridden, it could be the most exhilarating eight seconds of your life.

It’s not a fight, but a dance, and that's what those eight seconds felt like as my body moved perfectly with every move he made until the bell sounded, and I jumped off to the roar of the crowd.

That’s when I made the mistake of my life.

The fans started chanting my name, and lost in the excitement and glory of what I'd done, I turned my back to the bull and waved at the crowd. I knew better; you never turn your back until the bull is led away from you.

To this day, all I remember is being hit from behind and being thrown high into the air. Even though I've seen the video countless times, I have no memory of being thrown around like a rag doll and stomped on repeatedly by that bull.

My wife, Cindy, and fourteen-year-old daughter, Susan, were in the stands that day and were broken as much as, if not more than I was. The trauma of seeing her father lying in the dirt, unconscious and bleeding as paramedics worked to save my life has been the cause of Susan's nightmares ever since.

My wife has begged me countless times over the last year to “Give up this madness.”

Last night she was in tears as she spoke about her fear and what this was doing to our daughter.

"I get this is important to you, Bill, but you have to see the risk is not worth it. I understand that you want to conquer your fear and all that, but what about our fear. Look at your daughter. What about her fear of seeing her father being mangled again or, even worse, killed. You're everything to her. You're her hero. Can't you see what you're doing to her?”

The anguished look on my daughter's face as Cindy spoke tore at my soul, but the fear inside me that I needed to overcome was overwhelming and changing me somehow.

I had to face this fear. I had to do this, or I would never be the same man again. I needed to climb on a bull one last time to get back to being the man Cindy married and the father, my daughter, loved and respected.

I promised this would be my last ride. The last eight seconds I would spend on the back of a bull.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, my daughter wasn't there to say goodbye and hug me before I left for the arena this morning.

Looking up to the seats I'd reserved for my family, as I prepared to climb into the chute, I saw my brother and two cousins, but my wife and daughter’s seats were empty.

I steeled my heart and nerves as I watched Tommy Darcy trying to settle the beast between his legs as it kicked and bumped and tried to buck in the chute.

He was having a hard time getting the bull to settle down, and if he didn't give the nod soon, he would run out of time and be disqualified.

He’d drawn one of the meanest bulls on the circuit, Rampage, who was every ounce of two thousand pounds and was in a nasty mood. Tommy, who was no more than one hundred forty pounds, looked like an ant on the bull's back, but he didn't look afraid. If anything, he looked angry and determined.

He was just nineteen but rode like a seasoned veteran. He moved like a cat and was fearless as he seemed to know what the bull would do before it did.

All the riders knew that most of the fans were there to see him. With his youthful skill and movie star looks, he was the main attraction at every event. He was the face of the sport, and in the age of social media, his face was everywhere.

His rise to fame was meteoric, and the constant adulation changed him from the shy farm boy he once was into what he was now; a young man with a degree of confidence that was becoming dangerous.

He had a loyal following of fans, mostly young women that were at every event. What in music you would call groupies were called buckle bunnies in rodeo, and Tommy had charmed the pants off many of these bunnies in the last year and a half.

As the clock got to a few seconds, I saw fear on Tommy's face, but it wasn't fear of the bull; it was fear of being disqualified. The ego of a nineteen-year-old, at the top of his sport, took over, and he gave the nod to open the gate before he was ready.

Rampage exploded through the gate like a freight train, causing a dust storm as he jumped high in the air, doing belly rolls, throwing his four legs back and forth trying to dislodge Tommy, who was holding on for his life. This animal was pissed, and so was Tommy.

The roar of the crowd sounded like thunder as the clock ticked down…7…6.

The bull started wildly spinning to his left as he bucked, and I could see that Tommy was losing balance as he started to slide left….5…4.

Tommy fought with everything in him, but just as he righted himself, Rampage suddenly jumped straight up, and belly rolled again as he was spinning. Tommy overcompensated and lost balance towards his right as the bull landed on all fours…3…2.

The bull, sensing Tommy's predicament when he landed, furiously spun to his right while bucking hard. The centrifugal force caused by the spinning bull caused Tommy to lose his grip, and he was thrown twenty feet across the ring, landing on his head in a cloud of dust…1...0.

Tommy wasn't moving as a hush fell over the arena, and the bull angrily pawed the dirt before advancing towards him with his head lowered.

Three bullfighters, who used to be known as rodeo clowns, were running towards him as he struggled to his knees, but they were too late as the bull arrived first. Tommy, groggy from landing on his head, stumbled and fell as he tried to back up. He tried to roll away, but the angry behemoth lowered his head and hooked Tommy's vest with his horns before throwing him with incredible force into the fence.

The crowd gasped as he fell to the ground unconscious with his face full of blood and his right leg broken and twisted into an unnatural position.

The bullfighters arrived and tried to lure Rampage away, but this bull wasn’t finished and attacked Tommy again, goring his good leg before throwing him ten feet in the air over the fence and into the stands.

People near him were screaming for medical help as they were sprayed with blood pumping from the severed artery in his gored leg.

Luckily there was a doctor close to the area and got to him in seconds, pushing people out of the way as he removed his belt and tied it around Tommy's leg, slowing the blood flow. Several paramedics and doctors arrived in less than a minute and worked furiously to save the life of the young man that looked mangled beyond repair and was losing blood at an alarming rate.

His fans were holding each other and crying as Tommy was loaded on a stretcher and carried to the waiting ambulance, which was parked where I and the rest of the riders were standing.

It was a horrific sight as they loaded him into the ambulance. His body was destroyed. Both his legs were broken, and his face was smashed and swollen beyond recognition as the doctors tried to stop the blood that was flowing from several places.

A man I knew was Tommy's father climbed in the back of the ambulance and looked frenzied as he held his hand out and screamed, "Clara come on, get in. Please now, get in; we have to go."

I looked towards the woman he was yelling at and saw that it was Tommy’s mother. She looked to be lost and confused as she stood there shaking uncontrollably with her arms crossed over her chest.

The colour drained from her face as she stood there, not moving, so I went to her side and gently helped her get to her husband's outstretched hand.

She mumbled, “thank you,” and looked into my eyes for a second before climbing into the ambulance as the doors closed.

The fear in her eyes when she looked at me was devastating; she was crushed. The fear of losing her son, her life, her reason for living was tearing her apart.

That moment changed everything for me, and I realized that my fears of not being the man I once was meant nothing in comparison to what I saw on her face and the faces of my own family.

I was done. I walked out of that arena and never looked back as I rushed to get home to what really mattered, my reason for living, my family.

They’d watched it all on the news and were waiting in the driveway when I pulled up. I jumped from the car and pulled them both into my arms as they cried while I said,

“I’m done. You guys are everything to me. One more eight-second ride will do nothing to help me be who I want to be. You are my ride, and all I need to be is right here with you. I'll never ride again; I don't need those eight seconds anymore. Lightning was my last eight seconds.”