What’s a good way to start out the Stampede for the Cure night?
With pink cotton candy. Pink cotton candy equals happiness. Seeing those kids outside the Idaho Center selling their hearts out made me say, “Oh, why not!” and purchase a bag. I gave them the raised eyebrow when they asked, ‘What color, pink or blue?’ On this night, they should know which would be the most popular, and I hoped for their sakes they’d stocked up on one particular color more than the other.
There was a lot of pink to be seen, everywhere I looked. The security guards, the volunteers, the Stampeders wore pink shirts after their performance (with some majorly bling-bling belts). The Cervi stock guys wore pink from head to toe. I thought I was seeing things, but nope. Those were pink jeans those boys were wearing.
Some kind of weird, pink-focused dream?
Nuh-huh. This was real life, and as good as it gets. We were all wearing pink to fight breast cancer, something far too many of us have been affected by. We could all tell stories of loss connected with those two words, ‘breast cancer’. The disease is detestable.
What can we do? We can raise awareness, money, and we can wear pink.
“I only wear this shirt once a year,” said one of the male Stampede volunteers.
Good enough.
The evening started off with a triumphant ride, totally busting the mutton with a score of 94.
When the main program got started, it was apparent that this was going to be a different kind of night. Ladies all decked out in every shade of pink possible were here with their daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, and best girlfriends, and they were letting their hair down. There were people dancing in their seats, waving their arms to the music, living life out loud. It made for a rowdier audience. We girls know how to have fun!
The other difference was that whenever someone fell off or was in harm’s way of a kicking, bucking animal, the sounds of sympathy or concern were more audible than they’d been on opening night. We women tend to be caretakers and nurturers to the core, even at a rodeo.
Announcer Boyd Polhamus, was literally ‘back in the saddle again’. It’s hard enough to announce for 2 ½ hours, harder still to do that with a mike in hand, program schedule, working the reins and on horseback. He did a great job of building the excitement and suspense by giving us a run down of all of the world champions that were present, ready to compete, while dramatic music played in the background. He knows how to put an exclamation point on an event. He introduced Dan Tiller, Snake River Stampede’s president, and then Nampa Mayor Tom Dale and another man who’s name I didn’t catch (feel free to comment), who sang an impressive rendition of our National Anthem, all as a girl held our flag on horseback. Knowing that virtually everyone had their hands on their hearts at that moment (or should have), gave me a feeling of connection to everyone in the arena. One nation under God. Speaking of God, it’s a big thing at the rodeo. I don’t think there are too many bull riders that don’t believe in a God of some sort. I could be wrong on that one, but I saw plenty of them take a knee in the dirt after a ride last night.
Featured on this night was the pink bull that they called ‘Victoria’s Secret’. According to Boyd Polhamus, it had only been ridden twice for the duration of eight seconds in the last ten years. Polhamus gives us background on just about everything, if he has time to. Scheduling-wise, they run a pretty tight ship. Conversely, he’s great about filling up the time with interesting talk, too, a definite skill when there’s a delay with an animal, cowboy or something going on in the chute. Polhamus told us about Tilden Hooper, bareback bronc rider.
“Someone you hope your daughter never brings home, because he’s someone you’re gonna like.” Not too many moms dream of their daughter marrying off to a traveling rodeo cowboy.
He commented on the animals, too.
“Love those undomesticated farm animals! They won’t come when you call ‘em, and they won’t sit around beggin’ for doggie treats.”
During steer wrestling, more than a few cowboys struggled to get those horns down, but wrestled them till they could, even if their time was toast by then. Tenacity and showmanship can be thanked for this. The people came to see a steer wrestled, and they were going to see it.
A person could learn a lot from a rodeo, there’s object lessons a-plenty if you’re really looking. Cowboys and cowgirls don’t give up, a good thing to remember in a sea of pink for the fight agains breast cancer. You never, ever give up.
“Cowboy up!” said one parent to a child in the stands last night in a good-natured way.
We have, we are, and we will.
No comments:
Post a Comment