When a few friends and I arrived at Stegall’s Livestock & Arena in Concord for the Sunday night rodeo, I sensed we weren’t among a “weekend cowboy” kind of crowd. You know the type. They sit in cubicles Monday through Friday then don 10-gallon hats on Saturday and hop on a mechanical bull after a few beers. The Stegall’s crowd was the real deal – guys with hard-working, callused hands, black eyes, scars and an innate toughness that most city slickers will never know. And kids who want to be like them.
The night got underway when two women on horseback came riding out into the arena carrying American flags to the strains of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA.” That was followed by the national anthem and, for good measure, the Lord’s Prayer. You’ve never seen such a solemn and reverent crowd.
The rodeo emcee was perched atop a wooden tower between the gates where the horses and bulls would enter the arena. About a dozen guys sat on the gates and helped oversee the dangerous business of getting the cowboys mounted on their steeds. Except for the giant piles of horse and bull excrement, it reminded me of the sidelines at a football game — a sweaty den of testosterone, with lots of boastful talking, dirt and spit.
The bareback riders were up first, but there was an immediate problem when one of the horses started bucking violently in the gate and ended up flat on its back. The manly men finally got things squared away, the gate swung open, and both horse and cowboy came tearing out. It didn’t take long for the horse to show the crowd who was boss, tossing the cowboy, who flew through the air and hit the ground with a crunch.
“Paramedics, you better check his head, I think it done sprung a leak,” the emcee said in his lazy drawl as the cowboy was helped out of the arena.
The rest of the night played out much the same way. With everything from Van Halen and Kiss to Run DMC blasting from the sound system, the cowboys came out on progressively bigger, snottier, and scarier animals.
The bronco and bull busting was interspersed with crowd-pleasing mutton busters, three-to-five-year-old kids who rode (i.e., held on for dear life) on sheep. The miniature cowboys bounced uncontrollably as they tore across the arena, their mouths often stretched into giant 0’s as they screamed in fear, excitement, or both.
It was during the mutton busters that I witnessed the time-honored tradition of young boys fighting off tears and pain and showing they’re on their way to becoming men — real men. In the case of four-year-old Weston King, that moment came when his little body was tossed off the back of a sheep that was about twice his size thudded back down to earth. Weston slowly got up, his face trembling as he attempted to hold back the tears. His dad, a big guy who sported a thick goatee, was right there next to his son. Weston reached out and grabbed his hand. Dad gave him a hearty pat on the back. Weston took off his cowboy hat, smacked it against his hip, then brushed the dirt off his chaps, just like the big cowboys. By the time he stepped out of the arena, the tears were forgotten, and he walked proudly to big cheers from the crowd.
Safety for cowboys big and small is provided by guys like Curtis Jones, a mountain of a man who looked even bigger in his red overalls and pads.
Jones made it clear he’s not a rodeo clown, but a bull fighter. “They don’t pay me to make people laugh,” he said.
“Ever been hurt?” I asked.
“I’ve had 12 concussions, a separated hip, separated shoulder…hell, it’s easier to say what hasn’t been hurt.”
Of course rodeos aren’t exactly picnics for the animals, either. While rodeo proponents will tell you the bulls and horses are bred to buck, it’s also true that the cowboys’ boots are outfitted with spurs that roll along the animal’s neck and sides. Moreover, something called a flank strap is tied around the horse just in front of the back legs to encourage it to jump and kick more. There was no bozo in tights waving a cape and stabbing the bulls with swords, but it still seemed like a pretty damn miserable night for the four-legged participants.
As for the little cowboys in training? It looked to me as though some of the “mutton busting” was a form of child abuse. But I guess that’s how little cowboys become big cowboys. I may not be the best judge of such things; last week was the closest I’d been to any kind of farm animal in more than a decade — unless you count eating at McDonald’s.
Stegall’s Livestock & Arena, 3601 Odell School Rd., Concord, NC 28027. 704 788-1858. The rodeo is every Sunday night at 7pm. $6 per adults, guests under 10 are free.
If you have an idea for the Urban Explorer column, contact Sam Boykin at: sam.boykin@cln.com or 704-944-3623.
This article appears in Jun 1-7, 2005.
