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The Big Time

A Rodeo Star Is Born

By E.L. MartinPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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The Big Time
Photo by Isaac Ibbott on Unsplash

Charles stepped into the arena. The smell of tobacco, cigarettes, livestock, earth, and pilsners wafted into his nostrils. He breathed in the acrid fragrances deeply. "Ah, the sharp scent of humanity at its finest." he smiled, "This is what dreams are made of." He wanted to embrace it with all of his senses. He had lived for this moment. Hundreds of fans cheered in the background, many chanting his name. He looked up at the center section of his own personal fan club.

He waved and winked at a young woman holding a Pabst Blue Ribbon she touched to her lips. The silver can highlighted her bright red lipstick. She caught Charles looking at her, and brought the can down. She waved enthusiastically and cheered, "Good luck, honey!" with some mild embarrassment as if she was caught doing something naughty. Charles smiled at her more. He loved that cute sheepish grin she had; a wry smile that tickled the edge of the left-side corner of her mouth upward just a small amount. It said more about her than she usually gave away. Sure, the smile made her seem shy and sweet, but it was also sprinkled with mischief. Perhaps, he thought, her smile was his favorite thing about her.

Her smile invigorated and revived his boyish nature: the same boyish nature that told him to impress her by doing wild and crazy things. What was life without risk? For this adrenaline junkie, it was the only life he had known and he savored it. Charles grew up on a ranch breaking wild mustangs and other horses that couldn't be tamed by the likes of other men. His father was the king of such business, and Charles was determined to follow in his father's footsteps. His eyes, though, were instead on dominating the sport of bull-riding.

Charles was a football player in high school, but the sport never appealed to him the same way his first rodeo had. Watching the cowboys and fast-paced lifestyle they led left a substantial impression on him since he was an eight-year-old-boy. He remembered gawking at one of them with delight in his eyes. The man smiled at him, gave him his cowboy hat, and told him if he wanted to learn to be a real cowboy to watch him. He would have front row seating to some behind the scenes action of how bull riders prepare for the event if he wanted. Charles looked back at his dad, the adventurer, livestock-wrangler, rancher, and rodeo-lover, for permission.

"Go for it son", his dad replied.

Charles mentally absorbed every piece of direction, advice, position, and movement the man showed him, knowing that one day he would put it into action.

By Phinehas Adams on Unsplash

After turning 18, his first priority was to become a professional bull riding athlete. His father sponsored that decision as long as he continued to work on the ranch until he was chosen. The years of experience in horse breaking or more politely termed, training, would do him some good. Charles was finally selected to participate in a tournament at 21. At last, Charles would be putting all of the advice, skills, and training he started learning at eight-years-old into action. He remembered the look the cowboy had on his face as he mounted his bovine. It was a look he had many times from his work on the ranch, except horses didn't have horns you needed to watch out for.

By Vivian Arcidiacono on Unsplash

He looked at the beast in front of him, wild and rugged. He stared into the animal's eyes; fearful, angry, excited. He knew this wasn't going to be an easy ride. The bull's emotions reflected his own, and he couldn't help but respect that majestic animal. It was this mentality he developed at the ranch, and the wildest of horses became his most prized steeds. He watched the snot fly from the cow's nostrils, foam frothed at the beast's mouth. "It's going to be alright" he told the bull as he laid a hand on the mammals forehead. The bull bucked and sent him a jeering stare. "Alright, you're right. I said that for my benefit more than yours." Charles said, and chuckled.

Charles watched the contender in front of him, Frankie Moro, was riding Big Daddy. Charles chuckled at the bull's name, but the animal gave Frankie a "helluva" ride. Frankie was thrown, and nearly speared and pummeled at 5.4 seconds. The rodeo clowns distracted the raging bull and pulled Frankie out of there. Charles wasn't sure if he wanted his bull riding partner, Lil' George, to be more or less unruly. The more unruly, the higher the score if Charles managed to stay on. It was a matter of odds similar to blackjack, but with more physical and immediate consequences, and Charles was a gambling man.

By Ben Wicks on Unsplash

"Time to mount up. You're next." the man at the gate ordered. Charles felt the adrenaline surge through his veins as he looked at his riding "buddy" once more. Lil' George's name was a misnomer; he was a mammoth of a bull. His owner, a proud breeder, boasted that the hulking behemoth had sired many offspring, and the championship had paid quite a large sum to rent him for this event. A smile spread across Charles's face. "Hey there, Lil' George," he winked at the bull, "let's give 'em a good show!" Charles slipped a leather gloved hand under the handle of the rope. He rolled his boot spur for good luck, and clicked his heel inward. He sent a quick message to his maker, then watched the gate keeper's head nod.

The duo launched out of the shoot. Lil' George jostled and jumped. He kicked and jolted. His horns and head swung in every direction, and mucus flung from the bull's facial membranes. In one throttle, Charles moved forward long enough to see the bull's blood streaked eyes, a vicious black and red. Seconds began to seem as hours for the young man atop his bull. He moved along with every movement. Years of relying on instinct combined with training the horses with his father paid off.

The buzzer sounded. Staying on Charles realized was the easy part. Getting down with a highly pissed off bull and making a break for it, that wasn't going to be so easy. He would have to be fast and ensure he didn't fall. Charles lunged as quickly off the bull as possible. He dashed in large sprints, and scrambled a few times as he lost his footing running toward the gate. The bull ran after him each step of the way, keeping tabs on him mere feet away. The bull paid no mind to the rodeo clowns and their antics. His mantra was focus. The gate keeper slammed the door shut as Charles scampered over it. The bull's horns pounded through the slotted openings.

By Ken Okum on Unsplash

"Jeez, man! That bull had it out for you! You're lucky you made it back in one piece. The clowns are just now getting his horns out of the gate. Hell of a ride though; you're a natural, kid." the gatekeeper said.

The young lady with the bright smile ran to greet him. Charles was covered in dirt, sweat, and bull slobber. He reeked of pheromones from his adrenaline and dopamine high. Those pheromones were about to increase in strength with the addition of red lipstick smudges on his mouth and cheeks.

"That was the craziest ride I've ever seen, Charlie!" his lady cheered.

His father patiently waited for their affection session to end before interrupting.

"Well, what did you think of your first real rodeo, son? Looks like those bucking broncos of mine did you some good!" he congratulated and slapped his son on the back.

"Hell, that was the most fun I've ever had!" Charles launched his hat into the air, caught it, and proceeded to kiss his girlfriend. The prize money for this event was as good as his and enough to pay off his membership for next year.

Charles went home a champion with confirmation that he was, perhaps, born for this.

By Cesira Alvarado on Unsplash

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About the Creator

E.L. Martin

Powered by Nature, Humanity, Humor, Food, Lifestyle, Fiction, and Culture; Oh, and a questionable amount of coffee.

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