By Dr. Don Dafoe
Not long after I moved to Dallas, I attended my first rodeo at the Cowtown Coliseum in Fort Worth and was electrified by the atmosphere.
In general, the cowboys were lean, lanky, and bowlegged and had great names like Stetson, Clay, Roy, Rocker, Ty, and an occasional Homer.
These are tough hombres. Staying on the back of an annoyed, saliva-dripping, 1,200-plus-pound bull for eight seconds takes a toll on the body. Broken bones and shoulder injuries are common.
The free hand waving in the air is not up there for balance, as I thought; by the rules it cannot touch the bull.
Perhaps the whipsawing of that arm leads to dislocation of the humeral head from the glenoid fossa. Forgive the technical jargon, I’m a surgeon.
I’m not an orthopedic surgeon though so this mechanism of injury is pure conjecture on my part.
Maybe, the cowboys simply land hard on their shoulders.
Head injuries from being thrown off or stomped on can be lethal despite the required helmet. Other safety gear includes a mouth guard, vest, gloves, and chaps.
One of the cowboys had flown in from Manitoba, Canada for a two-second bull ride. Talk about a long run for a short slide. It was probably just a bad day for him.
The rodeo clowns are unsung heroes. Given the hazards of their job, they deserve an upgrade in title. How about “bull diverting agents?”
Seeing the young ladies with flying hair bouncing on massive horses rounding barrels at top speed was thrilling.
But calf roping made me feel bad for the little calf who is jerked hard at the neck by a rope-noose, dumped on its side, and hogtied.
I realize it is hypocritical to feel that way when I love breaded veal cutlet.
I have limited experience with horses.
I’ve been spooked ever since a young man was brought into the Emergency Room unconscious after being coldcocked by a horse named Commando.
The family sided with the horse. “You shouldn’t ever sneak up on a horse from behind!”
My personal experience as a cowboy occurred at Gilley’s in Pasadena, Texas on a mechanical bull.
This happened years ago when the mechanical bull had been popularized by the movie Urban Cowboy starring John Travolta.
I remember inebriated patrons signing wavers that mentioned possible death and indemnified the establishment against lawsuits.
I have heard from ER doctors that a state of inebriation can be protective in some circumstances because of alcohol-induced, wet noodle flexibility and morning-after amnesia.
In my case, the cowpoke running the controls decided to punish me as a lily-livered non-Texan. He was probably tipped off by my sport coat, slacks and wingtips.
He would slow the bull down just as I began to slip sideways in the saddle, allow me to right myself then start up again and again.
Without going into details, let’s just say I learned firsthand why cowboys walk bowlegged.
Dr. Don Dafoe, formerly of Highland Park, is riding off to California to continue his career as a transplant surgeon. We’ll miss his columns.