Fried Twinkies, Buckle Bunnies, & Bull Riders

by Josh Peter

  McBride, who’d watched the game from the stands, had gotten down on the field. Howell stepped off the platform and greeted his friend. The two embraced.

  “Man, I’m so proud of you,” McBride said.

  Howell fought back tears. “Now it’s your turn,” he said.

  Ever since then, Howell had noticed something about his best friend: McBride no longer was hungry for the championship—he was starving for it. The bull rider, starving for a championship, refused to pull out of the 2003 finals just because he’d broken a rib and punctured his lung less than a month before the event. So that same bull rider, still starving for a championship, sure as hell wasn’t going to let a little broken ankle stop him.

  Back in the sports medicine room in Grand Rapids, McBride glared at that right ankle. His entire leg had begun to quiver.

  “Quit shaking, you scrawny leg,” he yelled. “This is going to mess up my hunting again, too. I ain’t going to be able to climb a tree with this.”

  Laughter shot across the room. Setting down a pouch of pain pills and a can of beer, McBride tried out a pair of crutches. “I hate these damn things,” he said.

  “Throw ’em down.”

  It was Hedeman, who’d entered the room to check on one of his favorite riders. McBride smiled at the icon who’d cussed him out more than a few times but now was there to comfort him. After all, this was Hedeman’s kind of cowboy, cursing at misfortune, cracking up those around him, and showing the dexterity to exit the arena on crutches while carrying a beer.

  The next night, RossColeman,McBride’s best friend on tour, won the event for his first victory in 2 years. It was almost as if Coleman had ridden to protect McBride’s spot in the standings. In fact, withMoraes and Lee each riding only one of two bulls, McBride actually gained ground in the standings on the strength of his 88.5-point ride on Scar Face.

  Inside the sports medicine room, with McBride sitting on an examination table a few feet away, Freeman told an OLN reporter that McBride would need surgery but “he’ll probably ride in the finals.”

  “Probably, his ass!” McBride snarled.

  Broken ankle or not, he was going to the finals. And McBride was going with one plan: to win the prized gold buckle that he knew belonged on his belt.

  STANDINGS

  1 Adriano Moraes 8,869.5 points

  2 Justin McBride 7,222.5 points

  3 Mike Lee 7,152.5 points

  4 Mike White 5,775.5 points

  5 Ross Coleman 5,533 points

  6 Brendon Clark 5,433.5 points

  7 Greg Potter 5,057.5 points

  8 Jody Newberry 4,900.5 points

  9 Mike Collins 4,520.5 points

  10 Rob Bell 4,328.5 points

  EIGHTEEN

  SETTING THE STAGE

  Columbus, Ohio

  Saturday & Sunday, October 9 & 10, 2004

  Huddled near the bathroom in the locker room, the three Brazilian riders laughed when they heard someone in the stalls erupting like Mount Saint Helens. Moments later, Mike Lee pushed open the stall door and strode up to the Brazilians.

  “Were you laughing at me?” he asked.

  Paulo Crimber and Guilherme Marchi stood next to Andre Moraes, younger brother of Adriano, who laughed again. WHAP!

  Lee slapped Moraes across the face. WHAP!

  Before Moraes could cover up, Lee slapped him again.

  Moraes picked up a metal chair. He moved toward Lee.

  Then he put down the chair—too soon.

  Lee wrapped his arms around Moraes. Picked him up, carried him into the bathroom, and began shoving him against a stall door.

  “Stop!”Moraes shouted.

  Lee lowered him to the ground, and Moraes walked back into the locker room and sat in a chair. Lee came up from behind and hugged Moraes.

  “I love you,” Lee said. “I love you.”

  Love you? The Brazilians rolled their eyes, thinking what many people thought about Lee—that he was nuts. News of the incident angered Adriano Moraes, but he let Andre fend for himself.

  It wasn’t the first fight between riders. In 2003 at a bar in Raleigh, North Carolina, Chris Shivers decked Gilbert Carrillo and, with three punches to the face, did about $10,000 worth of dental damage. And at the Colorado Springs Invitational in April, at another after-event party, Gary Richard flattened Cory Rasch. But this outburst before the Columbus Invitational, the PBR’s regular-season finale, was about more than tempers flaring. It was about a pattern of strange behavior that defined Lee and one reason that, despite all of his talent, some doubted he was ready to win the championship.

  Thoughts of sin, lust, and guilt swirled in his head; and Lee found himself as confused as ever. During the introductions before the Columbus Invitational, Lee later recalled, he tuned out the explosions, the pyrotechnics, the crowd’s cheers, and appealed to God.

  Why are you sending me in this direction? Lee silently asked. Why are you subjecting me to so much confusion? What’s the point of all this?

  He wanted answers. He said he finally got them.

  God, according to Lee, sent him a message: Lee had drifted too far from Jesus, become too concerned with his own success, and neglected the deeper truth that he was riding not for himself but for God and Jesus Christ.

  During first-round action, Lee got bucked off Camo and accepted the fall as God’s will and later that night joined 11 others in a hotel conference room for Bible study. At one point, the 12 men clasped hands and Pastor Todd Pierce led them in prayer. When Pierce finished, it was a chance for the others to speak their minds.

  “Thank you, Lord, for making my heart free again,” Lee said, “for making me realize the struggles aren’t pointless.”

  But Lee’s renewed inner peace had gone unnoticed by the fans inside Nationwide Arena, because most people were focused on Adriano Moraes, JustinMcBride, and Mike White. Small even by bull rider standards,White stood 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighed 145 pounds. He had light brown hair and a smile bright enough to serve as a pitchman for Crest. With his cobalt blue eyes and angelic face, he looked almost fragile. But they didn’t call him “Mighty Mike” for nothing.

  Recently White had looked mightier than ever. He’d ridden all three bulls at the PBR’s 24th stop, Bullnanza–Reno, where he’d finished third. The next week he’d covered all three bulls at the Laughlin Invitational in Laughlin, Nevada, and finished fourth. Though he fell off both of his bulls the following week in Grand Rapids, he still looked impressive—particularly on a wild ride atop Slider, who had been ridden only twice in 25 attempts. White made the buzzer, but the back judge ruled White had touched the bull with his free hand, disqualifying the score. The ruling infuriated White, and Cody Lambert later acknowledged the ruling was an error. Though he left Grand Rapids without a point, White arrived in Columbus with unmistakable confidence. A few hours before the competition started, White happened upon Justin McKee, OLN’s color commentator.

  “Hey, I’ve got news for you,” White said. “I’m going to go into the short round winning it.”

  For Joe Namath and Muhammad Ali, predictions were one thing. But for bull riders, they were taboo. Some riders believed predictions invited trouble, while others considered it bad form to disregard the role an 1,800-pound bull would play in determining the outcome. But White possessed the balance of a gymnast, the reflexes of a bantamweight boxer, and surprising power—a combination that enabled him to ride the sport’s rankest bulls. And he was riding as well as he had since 1999, when at age 23 he had won the PRCA world bull riding championship and was the PBR’s Rookie of the Year.

  He was a rising star, yet never rose as fast or as far as most people expected.Mighty as he was, White’s body kept breaking down.

  A broken neck. A blown-out knee. A broken kneecap. The injuries had kept him on the sidelines for months at a time between 2000 and 2001. Additionally, some thought White spent too much time complaining when he drew a bad bull and fussing over how much media coverage he got. The best ri
ders stayed above it all, and the PBR’s brass wondered if White had what it took to be the best.

  Finally in good health in 2002, he won two events that season and finished 10th overall, followed by four more victories in 2003 and a fourth-place finish. By the 2004 regular-season finale in Columbus, he looked primed for a strong run at the championship. Others simply wanted to get to the finals.

  The most prominent rider on the bubble was Chris Shivers, the reigning world champion. He’d missed 16 of the past 26 regular-season events with injuries, putting himself in jeopardy of missing his first finals. At 57th in the qualifier standings, Shivers needed to win at least $6,000 over 2 days to catapult into the top 45. If he didn’t, he would become only the second reigning world champion to fail to qualify for finals.

  Three days before the Columbus Invitational, agent Mark Nestlen approachedOLNproducer Joe Loverro about using his star client as a commentator during the finals. Shivers’s sponsors wouldn’t be happy unless their highly paid cowboy was getting airtime—preferably while riding bulls, but at a minimum while appearing on TV as a commentator.

  “What, you don’t think he’s going to qualify?” Loverro asked.

  “I’m just doing my job and looking at all the options,” Nestlen said.

  But Shivers had no intention of doing TV commentary in Vegas. He planned to be riding in the finals. Stretching, fidgeting, pacing, he waited behind the chutes for his first-round ride Saturday night with two TV cameras inches from his face. Thinking it was finally time, Shivers approached the chute.

  “Four and a half minutes,” a PBR official yelled.

  Commercial break. Damn. Shivers resumed his stretching, fidgeting, and pacing before the time finally came. He settled on top of Woodstock and tightened his grip on the bull rope.

  “Go have fun, little fella,” Custer told Shivers.

  The gate swung open and the fun began. Within seconds, Shivers looked done, tipping right and starting to slip off the bull. The seconds felt like minutes as Shivers tried to hold on for the 8-second buzzer. His riding arm strained. His face muscles strained. He refused to let go of the rope.

  Inches from the dirt, with the rope still in hand, Shivers held on until the 8-second buzzer. The crowd roared as he scrambled to his feet and shot his fists into the air. Then came the official score: 87.5 points.

  The crowd cheered again. The reigning champ’s chances of making the finals were still alive.

  Ednei Caminhas won the round with an 89.5-point ride on Indian Outlaw. But White had no intention of backing off his prediction after scoring 89 points on Kryptonite.

  The next night, despite the intensifying race for the world championship, the TV cameras again trained themselves on Shivers. His 87.5 ride the night before was impressive, but advancing to the championship round was his only chance of earning enough money to qualify for the finals.

  Matched up against Complete Control, who was making his BFTS debut, Shivers climbed aboard the bull, settled in, and prepared to nod.

  “Have fun!” White shouted.

  The gate swung open, and out they went. But it was the bull, not Shivers, who looked like the seasoned pro. The reigning champ hit the dirt well before the 8-second mark, and one could feel the fans’ energy deflate. Shivers tipped his cap to the crowd and briskly exited the arena. The TV cameras tried to follow him, but he walked beyond their reach and into a tunnel, where he found a quiet corner. He leaned against a concrete wall, buried his face in his cowboy hat, and let the tears fall.

  Five minutes passed.

  Tears finally dried, Shivers dragged his bull rope back up the tunnel, down the hall, and into the locker room, where he passed seven men. None of them said a word.

  Ten minutes later, Shivers returned to the arena in time to pull White’s rope and help his buddy prepare for his second-round ride. White lowered himself on Easy Money, an aptly named bull. He rode it for 87 points and, with that, made good on his prediction that he’d be leading the event going into the championship round. White sprinted to the sideboards and bumped fists with Nestlen.

  Soon Nestlen had surprising news for Shivers: He still had a shot to get into the championship round. Shivers’s first-round score of 87.5 left him tied with four other riders for the final spot of the 15-rider championship round. Scores from the back judge, Cody Custer, would break the tie. It took Nestlen 5 minutes to find the results—not the results for which he was hoping. Shivers’s score was the lowest of all four riders, meaning he’d failed to make the championship round and failed to qualify for the finals.

  Tears dried, Shivers did a TV interview and said he, not the judges, was the only one to blame. Even though he was out of contention, Shivers had a rooting interest. He headed back to the chutes and helped White prepare for what promised to be the best showdown of the round. He’d drawn High Tide, a bull unridden in 123 attempts. But man versus bull was just one of the battles playing out.

  Little Yellow Jacket and Pandora’s Box were dueling for Bull of the Year honors; and after the Columbus Invitational, the riders would cast their votes. The night before, Joe Berger, owner of Little Yellow Jacket, and Winston Loe, owner of Pandora’s Box, sat side by side, drinking beer as if immune to any tension over whose bull would win the $20,000 bonus for Bull of the Year. But the next night, when Little Yellow Jacket and Pandora’s Box were loaded into the chutes for the championship round, Berger and Loe watched from separate vantage points.

  With Brendon Clark on his back, Little Yellow Jacket bucked off Clark with authority, the kind riders had come to expect from the two-time defending champion. Pandora’s Box bucked off Mike Lee, but without the awesome power he’d shown all year while often overshadowing his chief rival. Little Yellow Jacket or Pandora’s Box? Now it would be up to the riders.

  But there was another bull waiting in the chutes. An unrideable bull, some thought. High Tide.

  When nine of the first 10 riders of the championship round were bucked off, it looked as if White might win even if he fell off High Tide. But Ross Johnson rode Huskers Red for 85.5 points and moved into first place. The only way White could win was to become the first man to stay on High Tide for 8 seconds.

  He climbed into the chutes and onto the bull’s back. While the bull calmly waited, White wrapped the bull rope around his right hand as OLN’s cameras moved in for a close-up.

  “In one word, unrideable,” said Brett Haber, OLN’s lead commentator.

  White pushed down on the back of his black cowboy hat and secured his position in the center of High Tide’s back.

  He can do whatever he wants, but he ain’t going to throw me, White told himself.

  Then he nodded to the gateman. The chute gate swung open, and out leapt the bull, taking three powerful jumps forward before turning back to the right.

  With High Tide’s speed and power building, the bull spun hard. White stayed centered as if glued to the bull’s back. But as the clock neared 8 seconds, the bull turned back to the left, jerking White out of position.

  I’m not turning loose, White told himself. I’m going to ride this sucker.

  White squeezed tight to his bull rope as he tipped off the right side of the bull.

  At last, the buzzer sounded.

  Mike White had ridden the unrideable High Tide!

  Even Johnson, bumped into second place and denied what would have been his first BFTS victory after White’s ride, broke into a smile and applauded. After dismounting, White sailed his cowboy hat into the air, and seconds later another cowboy hat flew into the ring. The second hat belonged to Shivers; if he couldn’t win the $1 million, by God, there was no one else he’d rather win it than White. Then came the score: 92 points, certifying the ride as one of the year’s best.

  Watching from his home in Elk City, Justin McBride was resting his broken right ankle and monitoring the race. Adriano Moraes rode two bulls but got bucked off in the championship round. Lee scored 89 points for his second-round ride on Gator but fell off Pandora’s B
ox in the championship and finished tied for eighth. With his third victory of the season, White earned $36,667 and put Moraes on notice: Mighty Mike was in the hunt for the championship.

  As White posed for pictures and signed autographs, other riders hustled into the hallway, where a PBR official was posting a sheet of the updated rankings determining which 45 riders had qualified for the finals.

  Paul Gavin, the first rookie to break onto the tour in 2004, squinted through his left eye, the lid swollen and stitched from his ride and wreck earlier that night. He scanned at the posted standings but couldn’t find his name.

  J.W. Hart found it for him. Paul Gavin. Number 45.

  “That means you’re going to Las Vegas,” Hart said, and Gavin grinned.

  Riders clustered around the standings for the ultimate good-news-and-bad-news moment.

  In: Adam Carrillo, who’d spent 11 years on tour almost conjoined with his twin brother, Gilbert.

  Out: Gilbert Carrillo, who’d still go to Vegas as the first alternate.

  In: J.W.Hart, the “Iron Man.”

  Out: Troy Dunn, who this year wouldn’t be swooping in for the money and jetting back to Australia with bagfuls of it.

  In: B. J. Kramps, the wiseacre from Canada who was rescued by Pastor Todd Pierce during his hangup in Anaheim.

  In: Zack Brown, the surfer-turned-bull-rider and rookie from California.

  In: Jared Farley, the rookie from Australia.

  Out: Gary Richard, the rider nicknamed “Grandpa”who had turned 42 and failed in his quest to reach the finals one last time.

  In: Cory Rasch, the Jack Daniel’s pitchman who was overly dedicated to the company’s product.

  Out: Evan Rasch, Cory’s younger brother.

  In: Lee Akin, still trying to make heads or tails out of his bull riding luck after winning an event and then missing 4 monthswith a hip injury.

  Out: James White, the rookie whose bittersweet year included an impressive debut at the Anaheim Open, landing an endorsement deal with the US Army, a broken hand that sidelined him for several weeks, and the death of his mother.