True Grit
At the Attica Rodeo, boots are spurred, chaps are fringed and the livestock guilty of reckless endangerment PHOTO GALLERY BY MICHAEL DAVIS The sun flickers and flames and fades into evening, bathing the Attica Rodeo grounds in a bronzed light that’s more old masters than old west. Star-spangled pennants flutter. Vendors hawk hamburgers, and deepfried everything, and tees screen-printed with Attica Rodeo You’re in for one heck of a ride In the bleachers, fans rise for the rodeo queen, the flag and the national anthem, then settle in to cheer for the barrel racers and steer wrestlers and await the inevitable airborne cowboy. For if the official colors of the Attica Rodeo are red, white and blue, the unofficial colors are red, white and black and blue. See, here’s the difference between rodeo and other pursuits that involve bovines and equines: In this show ring, the livestock are likely to be homicidal. Rodeo may have started out as an extension of every day cowboy life – riding and roping and tying – but with every pitch and yaw, every diving buck, spin and dropkick, that image fades further in the rearview mirror. Rodeo broncs are a different breed of horse, a classification with no formal registry and a single qualification: On a scale of one to 10, with one being a rocking horse and 10 being the spawn of a buzz saw and Satan, they are an 11. Rodeo bulls, worse yet, are 2,000 pounds of quick-twitch muscle wired to dispose of human riders by jackhammering them into the ground or, if it’s a very good day, launching them skyward like a bottle rocket. Rhythm, balance and rosined hand tucked into grip rope be damned. It’s been this way for 61 years. For four days in August, this small town – known otherwise as the home of the deadliest prison riot in US history – becomes the boots and spurs version of an old-fashioned revival meeting. Stomp. Clap. Praise the lord that you are not the human projectile hitting the dirt. Repeat. The first year, there was a fence but no bleachers; seating was on the hood of your car or, in the back rows, the roof. The food stand was a leaky shed. Bathrooms weren’t. But there were Brahma bulls that could jump a 6-foot fence standing still, and bucking horses bought by the original four founders for $75 to $100 each, and a grand plan to put the west in Western New York. Come early. Grab a seat. You’re in for one heck of a ride.
“It’s the ropes and the reins, and the joy and the pain. And they call the thing rodeo. — Garth Brooks
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“Sometimes I think life is just a rodeo, the trick is to ride and make it to the bell. — John Fogerty
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