Knox
Ican’t explain it, but I knew it was Kacey calling me when my phone started buzzing during that interview and I had to hear her voice. The bull I have tonight is a bucker; he’s only been ridden once. That was at the finals last year. Hearing her voice, wishing me luck, letting me know she’ll be watching was exactly what I needed after this shit week.
I won’t lie. Before that call, I was nervous. Not nervous something bad would happen, but nervous because I don’t want to buck off, and I know I can win on him. Since hearing her voice, knowing she’s watching, I feel like I can take on the world now. I’m excited, and I know I’ll ride him.
The bull riding has started, and Trey and I are both in the last section. He’s third out and I’m last. The producer has made me and Buck Nasty the matchup of the night. The top bull here, against the four-time national finals qualifier and veteran bull rider. Everyone wants to see who will come out on top.
I have my rope, chaps, vest, and helmet all ready to go, waiting for my bull to be loaded. My boots and spurs are already tied, so as I wait around, I lend a hand to guys who need it. Some need a spot so a bull doesn’t slam him into the slide gate. A contractor has me hold a neck rope to keep a bull from trying to flip over, and a few guys have me pull their ropes. I like to keep busy; it keeps my mind from overthinking.
The last section finally rolls around. I put on my chaps as they load Buck Nasty into the alley, then head over to him to put my rope on. Trey is already loaded into the chutes on the left-hand delivery side, and I’ll be out on the right-hand deliveries.
“Shit, looks like you drew deep tonight, Knox.”
I look up to see Wade Taylor from the Burning T standing across the load alley from me.
“Gotta ride the buckers to win a world title,” I confidently reply. “Can you hook my rope from that side?”
Wade chuckles, reaches under the bull with a wire hook and grabs my rope, then hands it up to me. “If anyone can, it’s you. You’re the toughest S.O.B. I’ve ever known.”
“I appreciate that. Your bulls looked good in the first section. The bull I rode in Lawton, 025, is going to be in the rank pen one day.” I get my rope set where I like it and climb down.
Looking through the panels, he replies, “Thanks, we have a bunch of young bulls right now that show a lot of promise.”
“That’s a good problem to have,” I say with a smile. “If you’re not busy, think you can pull my rope for me?”
“Oh yeah, I’m just hanging around until I can load out. I’ll come give ya a hand.” He climbs over the alley and follows me up to the chutes.
I climb back behind the chutes and put my vest on as Trey nods his head. Matchbox 19 has the same trip he always does. Rears and kicks out two big jumps and turns back to the left. He feels like a dream. He has even timing and feels like he does allthe hard work for you. Trey sits up and rides him like he was born there. At six and a half seconds, he lifts his outside foot and starts to spur him, showing the judges he has total control. When the whistle blows, he pulls his tail and sticks the landing. Matchbox 19 makes another round as the bull fighters step in, then he runs out the center gate.
Trey is excited—as he should be, that was a beautiful ride. He stands on the top rung of the fence, waving his arms in an upward motion, hyping up the crowd. They love it. The judges love it, too, marking him 89 points.
Great—he was two more points than I was on Matchbox 19, and now I’ll never hear the end of it.
Trey runs up to the chutes and yells, “See, that’s how you’re supposed to ride him, old man!”
I shake my head.He’s so predictable.“Yeah, yeah, I’ll admit, it was a pretty ride.”
“Aww, you think I’m pretty.” He smiles up at me, fluttering his eyes like an idiot.
Wade chuckles next to me.
“Shut up, you know that’s not what I said. Now leave me alone, I need to focus.”
The last guy out the lefts nods his head and Trey steps up on top of the chute he’s standing at.
“Alright, Mr. Serious, go ride this fucker. Good luck, man.” He slaps the top rung on the chute, then heads for the walk-through gate.
There are two more guys before me. I grab the top rung of the chutes on my side and jump up and down to get the blood flowing. I say my usual affirmations in my head.
Whatever it takes. Keep moving. I came to win. I deserve to win.
I catch my breaths getting shallow, so I start taking deep breaths while closing my eyes, visualizing myself on a bullmaking the correct moves. Noting the feel of the loose hide and how it moves under me as I pull with my right leg and raise my left knee, throwing my free arm over my head as the imaginary bull kicks.
My eyes open as they pull the slide gate to my left and in steps Buck Nasty. He’s a big mouse-colored bull weighing around 1,900 pounds, with a white stripe running between his horns down to his nose.
“You’re mine, motherfucker,” I say under my breath.This is my time.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, pull my helmet on, then have Wade pull my glove back so I can tape it on. I jump up and down again and slap the inside of my thighs as Wade unties the tail of my rope. When I stand, I climb above my bull, resting my feet on the top rung on the other side of the chute as I fold my chaps back over my knees so they’re out of the way when I get on the bull.
