The next few posts are arriving at a glacial pace, because suddenly hellzapoppin’ out here, plus the PBR’s “Bimbos Up Front” policy is pissing off me and a lot of women, and making me less interested in watching it. I’m gasping for some televised PRCA and CBR events where at least the sleaze factor isn’t so in-my-face. Oh, and here’s another ray of hope: a new bull riding organization recently formed in Canada.
Anyway, here are the leftovers from the first round in Oklahoma:
As the cowboys were being introduced, none of them looked like they wanted to be there—or were they instructed not to smile? It’s a world gone mad: against all precedent, the only one who did smile on the dais was Silvano Alves, owner of the world’s best poker face!
João Ricardo Vieira, making his BFTS debut, was invited because he won a Touring Pro Division event.
OMG there even was a trio of cleavage-flashing Monster bimbos standing right next to Brandon Bates and Clint Adkins so they could be seen on camera. This crass shit is enough to make me embarrassed to be a bullriding fan.
- The gorgeous Clydesdale team—perfect pacing, and the best Uggs ever.
- Jory Markiss, a vision in green, looked like he could pass the Shepherd Hills Tested test (har har); the bonus bull, up to this point, has been ridden only by JB Mauney. (We were told earlier that the bull’s record was 18:1, then later we were told 16:1. Dudes, get your numbers coordinated!) Well, Jory got twirled off the bull’s back into a pirouette, and landed on his feet. No mouthpiece throwing occurred; he just pointed at the bull’s face, with an unmistakable threat. His interview on the Shark Cage: “Aw, I want him back. He was feeling real sweet…”
THE BOOK ON THE BULLS
- Brandon compared the 3-year-old bulls to junior high kids and the 4-year-olds to high school kids. PFF.
- Agnaldo Cardozo was on a bull called #119. I agree with Flint: If you’re going to bring a bull to this kind of competition, it’s gotta have a name. Great comment: “And that bull’s name is, Rode by a Brazilian.”
- Jory Markiss turned in an 89 on Fairy Tattoo, who’s been impressing me—I love the bull’s flying entrance. (Unfortunately, we learned the next day that the bull died—and its owners didn’t want to do an autopsy. What does that tell you, folks?)
- When I say Buckhorn threw a couple of belly rolls, I mean literally: on the ground. Shane Proctor was spry enough to get out from under him. YIPES!
Brandon’s slip of the tongue about talking to Luke Snyder “before the performance” nails the central issue as to why bullriding hasn’t gotten traction as a sport reported on a regular basis like others: is it a sport or a performance? Until that’s solved, they can forget serious sports coverage in the papers. I’m not talking about feature stories—bull riding is perfect for that—I mean reportage on every event, with a box of stats.
PULL THE OTHER ONE
I can’t tell you how many times Brandon and Clint said the scores were coming in, we’re waiting on the last score, etc., so that was b.s. on the “Pure PBR” broadcast about the electronic score pad getting all the scores from the judges at the same time.
- Robson Palermo’s shoulder popped out in his sleep, and he drove himself to the hospital! Are you kiddin’ me??
- Guilherme Marchi was riding in Touring Pro events. Why?? Well, 6 consecutive buckoffs isn’t his usual style. I think Flint jinxed him, sitting on the dirt, saying, “Does he know it’s his turn?”
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE BIRTHDAY BOY
It was Flint’s 45th birthday, and he was proud of it, in spite of Brandon razzing about seeing him crying in the locker room.
Flint joked that no one in Tulsa’s excited to meet the riders because in Oklahoma everyone’s got their own bull. Brandon: “I don’t have a bull. They won’t let me have bulls on the golf course.”
Flint: “How do you think I got this far in life? By giving up on other jobs very easily.”
High point: the bullfighters and announcers donned birthday hats for Flint. His present, delivered by Homie the Clown: a bag of his own clothes stolen from his locker.
Dakota Beck was doing a damn good job on Jungle Cat, but the replay showed that he lost the rope at about 7.95 as he flew through the air. This is one of the rare times I wish the judges turned a blind eye to the timer and let him have a score, because it would’ve been a good one.
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE RIDE—OR THE FLIGHT
Douglas Duncan eeked! out a 68.25 for a scramble on Paradise, with one leg hung up as he flew around the side of the bull upside down. You know, JB/Code Blue style.