I vowed that when my kids finished high school sports I was never going to another game. I like sports but I was tired, and my backside was getting callouses from the bleachers. You know what happens to people who say never, don’t you? They get to eat their words.
Our last three grandkids are all in high school now, so it’s winding down. Spencer is a senior, and participates in almost every sport so there’s no way we can keep up. Deacon and Medora are on varsity squads too. We try to equal it out by making it to home games, but volleyball is seldom on the same day, or versus the same team as football, so there’s a certain amount of juggling going on. Even their parents often have to make choices. Wrestling coincides with basketball, and then there’s rodeo, which seems to go on most of the year.
We’ve come to a sad state when it’s necessary for the announcer at an event to warn the crowd against unsportsmanlike conduct and remind them to respect the referees and players. I’ve seen parents and coaches ejected from a gym, and asked not to return. Apparently, watching professional sports on TV has corrupted some people’s common sense. Athletics is supposed to teach kids how to win or lose gracefully, and that real life isn’t always fair.
Bruce says the best thing about rodeo is the camaraderie. Unlike other sports, the competition isn’t between people, just the horse and the rider. The contestants are buddies, and they cheer one another on. At rodeos, nobody takes a knee for the national anthem, and often, a prayer is offered for the safety of contestants and stock, and blessings for our nation.
Besides high school, Spencer participates in amateur rodeo, and at the NSRA finals last week, thirteen crosses were set up in the arena in memory of the soldiers who died recently in Afghanistan. Thirteen veterans placed small flags on each cross, and were honored for their service, while a pretty cowgirl loped her circle carrying a big flag. If you don’t love America and cherish our freedoms, you don’t show up at a rodeo.
One of my proudest grandparent moments happened forty odd years ago at a local rodeo, when preschool grandsons removed cover without being prompted, as the national anthem was played.
I was pondering a strange custom last week, when the person next to me expressed my exact thoughts. Men always remove hats for the flag and the prayers, but cowgirls who are horseback in the arena, don’t. This is just wrong, I thought.
My companion, who happens to be a rancher and a relative, was upset too. “These aren’t just cowgirls,” he said. “They have earned the title of Cowboy, and are worthy of the name. They are our equals; they work alongside of us. They shouldn’t set themselves apart.”
I wholeheartedly agree. Maybe in the old West it was customary to put women on a pedestal. There’s nothing wrong with a fellow tipping his hat to a lady, even today, but we have worked hard to be viewed as partners and not just pretty decorations. We cowboy together, and are Americans together. One of the veterans behind a cross in that arena was female. Let’s stand united; it’s the cowboy way.