And they called it a rodeo...

Saturday, Brennan and I attended the Bass Pro Shops Pro Bull Riding at the Qwest center. We met two cowboys, Zack Brown (below) and the dude in the first picture, whose name I have forgotten. (Sorry, long night!)

Brennan has never been to a rodeo of any sort, and I have never been to one this big! I've been to so many horse shows as a child, they all blend together. I know I went to at least one rodeo in high school with my friend Amanda in Jonesville, but it was not just bull riding, it was everything. I remember someone got hurt and an ambulance had to take them away.
Back to Brennan...he brought his V-Tech camera with him and was snapping pictures of everything. He wanted to take one of every brochure, magazine, tee shirt (had to apply for a credit card, no thank you), and hat (had to join a knife club, not happening) We met TWO real life cowboys and had our pictures taken with them, and after that, every man in wranglers and a cowboy hat was a bull rider to Brennan. He was so excited to be there, eating popcorn, snapping pictures, having fun!
Being at the PBR was like going home, in a way. I went to 8th grade at Block High School, in Jonesville, LA, a tenny tiny town, smaller then my hometown of Vidalia. (They don't even have a mini-Super WalMart!) My dad taught me Louisiana History that year and my mom taught me English. One of my classmates was Chris Shivers, who is now a rather famous bull rider. (Why oh why did I not date him, maybe convert him to LDS and then now I would be a rich bull riders wife....nah, Bart is too great of a catch, though maybe he could ride a few bulls, earn a few million, you know.) I thought he was going to ride when we were there, but he did not. Anyways, I remember this wheelchair ramp that is in the courtyard of BHS. Every day at lunch, that ramp would be used by the cowboys to rest their skinny wrangler clad butts. Nice, right? And cowboy hats...I think they just about outnumber baseball caps in that town. So, to see so many hats, boots, and wranglers was like a trip down memory lane.
Enjoying our far away view, but hey for free tickets, not bad.
We left around 9:45, right before they announced the winners, in the middle of the riders picking their bulls for their next event. Brennan was tired and asked to go home. That was fine with me b/c I had a church meeting at 7 Sunday morning. It was not hard to figure the winners out, though...only about 5 or 6 riders managed to stay on the full 8 seconds. The clown/entertainer (who was fabulous, btw) kept making fun of the riders for falling off.
I asked Brennan if he wanted to be a bull rider when he grew up. He told me no because he did not want to get hurt (one bull rider got stomped on his head and his chest and he had to be medevacted out {btw, I made up that word}) and it was too loud.
That is fine with me...because I listen when Willie Nelson tells me, "Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys."

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

And now, for a bit of Garth Brooks...