I Tried Rodeo for the First Time—You Won’t Believe What Happened!
Everything's bigger in Texas—including its adventures. As someone who usually finds excitement in the comfort of city life, nothing could have prepared me for the dust, the thrills, and the wild Texas hospitality that awaited me at my first rodeo. Ditching my sneakers for a pair of stiff cowboy boots and trading self-preservation for pure adrenaline, I set out to discover for myself what makes rodeo more than just a sport—what makes it a Texas way of life.
Living the Rodeo Dream—Or Trying To
From the moment I arrived at the Johnson family ranch, it was clear I was in for a reality check. The Johnsons are the real deal: three generations of rodeo champions, sporting more belt buckles than I have Instagram followers and sporting grins that said, "Let’s see if this city boy can hang."
Big Earl—patriarch, legend, and probably part-cowboy, part-myth—welcomed me into their world with a promise: "We’ll make a cowboy out of you yet, son." After a crash course in cowboy gear (and a very real struggle fitting into my first ever pair of Wranglers), it was time to get hands-on.
Cowboy Life: Not as Easy as It Looks
Jesse, Earl's daughter and a barrel racing queen, introduced me to my new best frenemy—the lasso. If you think roping a steer is easy, try starting with just a stationary dummy. It took me more tries than I care to admit (and more laughs from the Johnsons than ought to be legal), but with some determined coaching from 10-year-old Hank—a kid who ropes better than most adults—I finally caught my first set of horns. Honestly? It felt like scoring my own little piece of Texas pride.
Next on my initiation was barrel racing. Jesse made it look like art: flying around barrels on her horse, Dusty, at breathtaking speed. When my turn came, the only thing flying was my nerves. With every trip around the barrels, though, I managed to wobble less and get a little faster. By the third round, I had the Johnsons clapping. For a few fleeting moments, I wasn’t just a visitor—I was chasing the rodeo rush.
The Calf Roping Challenge
Feeling emboldened, I squared up for calf roping. How hard could it be? (Famous last words.) Chasing down a calf and tying up three of its legs seemed straightforward enough until I tried doing it at full speed. The calf, naturally, had other plans—and a look that said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” After a couple of misses and some rescue tactics from the family, I finally got my rope around the calf. The celebration that followed wasn’t just relief; it was the first time I felt like I’d crossed into genuine cowboy territory.
Into the Fray: The Bull Riding Finale
No Texas rodeo story is complete without bull riding. The Johnsons' nerves hinted that this wasn’t just for show. Starting with the mechanical bull, I lasted a couple of seconds (let’s call it an appetizer for humiliation), then graduated to a full 5-second ride to applause from the kids. Nothing, though, matches the heart-pound of mounting a real, snorting, pawing bull with half the crowd watching and the other half probably betting on how long I'd last.
The gate burst open and I was in a world I can only describe as chaos—bouncing, sliding, hanging on for dear life. Three seconds later, I found myself sprawled in the dirt, the bull strutting off in victory. Was I bruised? You bet. Was I hooked? Absolutely.
Rodeo Family, Texas Hospitality
After the thrill and spills, the Johnsons invited me to a post-rodeo cookout. Piled high with brisket, beans, and laughter, the tales from their wildest wins and wipeouts made me appreciate just how tight-knit and genuine this community is. Their generosity went further than coaching a clueless newcomer; it was about sharing a piece of their lifestyle.
They even awarded me a trophy: "Best City Slicker." It’s a prize I’ll cherish not for winning, but for surviving and better yet, belonging—even just a little—in their world.
What Rodeo Taught Me
Rodeo is more than bucking broncos and dusty arenas; it’s about grit, resilience, and an open-hearted welcome to anyone willing to try. These athletes aren’t just tough—they’re fearless, focused, and fiercely supportive of one another. The bruises fade, but the memories (and the friends) you make in Texas last a lifetime.
If you ever get the chance to leap out of your comfort zone—whether that's in a pair of rodeo boots or trying any new tradition—say yes! The road to belonging might start with a few embarrassing missteps, but it always ends with great stories and greater people.
So keep your hat on, your boots dusty, and don’t be afraid to dive in headfirst. Rodeo taught me that you don’t have to be born a cowboy to earn a little Texas pride. Sometimes, all it takes is the courage to try.
Until next time, y'all—this city slicker’s signing off, a little bumped, a lot wiser, and with a brand-new taste for adventure.
