Chapter 26
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 all the 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 bull making 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.
The guy before me nods and the gate swings open. I don’t watch to see how things go for him. I set both feet on Buck Nasty’s back and slowly slide onto him.
Man, he’s a big bastard.
My mouth is dry, I’m nervous but still confident. In this moment, I can’t think about anything. If I start thinking about the end result, good or bad, it only distracts me from being in this moment right here. If I want to ride this bull, I have to have a clear mind and a will to win.
“Pull it up,” I say to Wade.
I warm up the rosin on the tail of my rope, I can smell it burn as it starts to get sticky.
The last bull leaves and the arena crew all get set at my chute.
I vaguely hear the announcer say my name and start hyping up the crowd.
I put my hand in my rope, and knowing he goes right, I set my hand a little further to the right of his backbone.
Just in case I get a little behind, it will give me a second chance to catch back up.
Today, I know I’m in my zone, I’ll be where I need to be. My mind is calm, and I can’t even hear the noise around me. Not the other bull riders offering last words of encouragement, not the roar of the crowd or even the announcer talking about me over the loudspeakers.
Wade pulls my rope tight and hands my tail to me as I pull it over the palm, then wrap it back around my hand, and back over the palm.
Then I run the tail between my pinky and my ring finger.
The suicide wrap. I normally wouldn’t do it, but I’m not going to buck off the bull to win it on because my hand pops out.
After I finish my wrap, I take two deep breaths, slide up over my hand, and push up on my legs. Once I feel ready, I nod my head, and I hear the clang of the latch.
My world explodes, and there’s no time to think, only react.
Buck Nasty has a ton of power as I set my hips to my rope for the first kick.
When he extends his hind legs to their full length, above his head, it feels like an invisible force is pulling at my vest, trying to get my face to meet the back of his head.
I flex my lower back muscles and use my feet to keep myself from bowing out over him.
He slings his head, and I can feel that he’s in the right lead. He rears and kicks again, this time he’s moving right and fast. I set my hips and hold them just like I did before, only now I throw my free arm over my head.
The bull in my visualization didn’t move this fast with this much power. Probably should’ve added that. Noted for next time.
The next round goes by in a flash. I get shaken to the outside, but when he kicks, I lift my outside knee and foot to kick my hips back into the middle of him.
I immediately drive forward on my legs to meet his rear.
I can hear myself grunt between my gritted teeth every time I pump my free arm over my head.
Every jump, he yanks on my arm, trying to break my grip from the handle of my rope, but I refuse to let go. Round after round, I give it everything I have to stay on Buck Nasty’s back. Then, the buzzer finally sounds.
I grab my tail as fast as I can without getting myself jerked down and I let Buck Nasty sling me off his back. I land ten feet away in a ball, shoulder first. At least the arena dirt is softer out here. I get to my feet and run to the fence where it’s safe.
“He did it, ladies and gentlemen! The man from Oklahoma just conquered one of the rankest bulls in the business!” the announcer bellows over the microphone as the crowd loses their minds.
“How about this, a new arena record to win this year’s Extreme Bulls title.
92 points!” the announcer says, as the crowd lets out another roar.
The bull leaves the arena, and I thank my bull fighters. One of them hands me my rope and slaps me on the shoulder.
I walk out of the arena, and Trey is waiting.
“When are you going to let me win one for once?” He smiles as he lifts his hand for a high five.
“Not today, apparently.” I laugh as I slap his hand.
“That was probably the rankest bull ride I’ve ever seen, you deserve it.” He holds my hat out to me so I can put it on for the interview.
“Thanks, man. Hey, can you take my gear to my bag?” I hand him my helmet, put my hat on, and unzip my vest.
He nods and I hand over my gear. As he walks away, I go back into the arena for the buckle presentation and interview.
Afterward, I head straight to my bag and grab my phone. I don’t waste a second.
“Congratulations!” Kacey answers, and my heart swells.