The Ruffest Ride I’ve Ever Seen

DISCLAIMER: This is a satirical piece. It does not necessarily represent the views of the Exponent or its writers and should not be construed as truth.

Clyle Gunnelson, a rancher since birth and six-time junior rodeo champ, competed last Saturday in MSU’s 2nd Annual Rough Stock Rodeo, which takes place around the last week of March. Gunnelson rode in hopes of winning the $1000 jackpot awarded for the best bareback ride. The event is a highlight of many new and seasoned riders who are looking to get some rough rides, good prizes and even bigger airtime, as this year was the first year in which height gained during the buck-out is marked as its own prize category. The prize was a pair of new leather assless chaps with wings stitched onto the sides.

I sat three rows up on the bleachers with my boots planted solidly on the ground in front. That didn’t stop me from leaning side to side as I watched the riders work to stay on top of their horses. The previous rider hurried out of the arena, limping after having been tossed into the pen gate as it opened. While Gunnelson was getting ready, the pickup riders were chatting idly by the arena gate — something about the horses being extra crazy this year and how that related to the size of a certain appendage. 

Even though every other competitor had to ride bareback — because it was indeed a bareback riding competition — Gunnelson was allowed a saddle simply because he’s so godd*mn handsome.

The gate horn blared and the crowd hushed as Cricket — a beautiful roan painted with facial markings that resembled a skull — came flying out of the pen with Gunnelson on top. The horse jumped into a sprint and took off like a bullet as Gunnelson clung desperately to the small pommel of the bareback saddle. As the horse neared the metal railing, it suddenly stopped and Gunnelson was thrown off balance just as Cricket crow-hopped sideways and reared up so that Gunnelson was forced to sit deep in his pockets, nearly 90 degrees in the air, and then lunged immediately back into a suicide gallop headed at the fence. 

Before Gunnelson could jump off, Cricket slammed bodily into the metal railing. Gunnelson was flung out of his stirrups and launched into the air. As Gunnelson soared above the churned-up arena dirt, the crowd oohed and ahhed. An old, retired rancher turned his head to the railing and spit a brown glob of tobacco juice onto the floor — a final burial right of the cowboys. Gunnelson came crashing down, hard. The young rider landed head then shoulder into the ground as the horse next to him tried to balance on unsteady feet before running in dizzied circles.

The EMTs to my right paused their game of UNO long enough to throw a questioning thumbs-up at Gunnelson as he pulled himself up the rail. The young competitor flashed a shaky thumbs-up back to the paramedics and began to slowly limp over to the gate. The eldest pick-up rider told him that next time, he should try to stay on the horse for the full eight seconds before trying for the height record. 

As Gunnelson limped through the gate, rodeo coach and supervisor Carl Wit-Taker patted the rider on the back — causing a slight spurt of blood to leak out of both ears — and congratulated him on setting a new record while helping him to sit down on the stand. Carl motioned the EMTs over. As I moved down to interview him, I noticed something glinting in the arena dirt. I knew this could be my chance to talk to Gunnelson, and I couldn’t pass it up. I quickly reached to pick it up and found myself holding a shiny white tooth. 

As the paramedics wrapped up their game and gathered their equipment, I held out my hand with the tooth in it and asked if he had dropped this. His tongue bobbed against the sides of his cheeks as he searched for the new crater of his missing tooth. When he found it, he flashed a grin and grabbed the tooth out of my hand. He thanked me and said, “You know they pay $50 per ride right? Sh*t, five more rides and I can get a tooth that’ll stay in.” He clicked the tooth back into place without so much as blowing on it first. He looked up at me, squinting slightly against the light. His pupils seemed awfully large.

I asked him how he thought his ride went. He told me “Well, coach says I set the record for height but I’ve always been good at flying. I really want to get back out there to win the bareback competition too.” Gunnelson stretched out his ankle and sighed. “I think it’s fractured but coach says as long as I keep it in the boot the swelling will stay down,” he said. I moved aside for the paramedics but Gunnelson waved them off, telling them “I’m fine, but do you have some Advil?”