, recently was kind enough to talk to me about his book. (Here's my review.) What follows is a transcript of our conversation. I can't be held responsible if it leads you to a career in bull riding.
Behind The Book:
When we were first exchanging e-mails before the book was published you mentioned that this whole experience was kind of like Bull Riding 101. I was wondering, what kind of background did you have? Were you a fan? Did you have any kind of experience? And if not, how did you get involved with this? What was the whole experience like? If you could just talk about all that...
Josh Peter:
I, like you, went to the rodeo maybe when I was ten or fifteen years old, probably closer to ten, and just vaguely remember the different events. And subsequent to that had no exposure until the professional bull riders came to New Orleans in 2000. I saw a media kit on my boss’s desk, it caught my eye and I picked it up. I was always looking for offbeat stories, and I thought it looked like an interesting one. It turns out that Chris Shivers, two-time champion, lived four hours from New Orleans. I asked my boss if I could take on the story, and he gave me a week to work on it, and I went and I did a profile on Chris Shivers, did something on the bull industry, the bull breeding industry, and then I covered the event. As soon as I covered the event, or that night, I just knew instantly that there was a book there. I had never written one, but it just struck me as such fascinating but alien culture. A sport that was thrilling, and yet one that I needed to know more about, and , I thought, that the general public would find interesting. So I tried to call the PBR, never really got a return call, and I sort of dropped the idea until four years later when a literary agency called and asked me if I wanted to write a book. It was sort of incredible how quickly it all came together: the proposal, the publisher, getting started. And I sort of assumed this is how publishing works. (I’m finding out that’s not quite how publishing works.) But it was great for the first run. So I really had no bull riding background. I had covered the primary sports for fifteen years. I had been to the NBA finals, been to the Summer Olympics in Sydney, the Ryder Cup, the Final Four. I had been to a lot of the majors, and had sort of grown a little bit bored of covering those events, so this was something that just piqued my curiosity. I really enjoy getting off the beaten path and immersing myself in a culture that I know little about and try to figure it out as fast as I can.
BTB:
One thing you talked about, the “alien culture” of this, and that was something that definitely struck me as I was reading it. When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was be a baseball player. I remember just for hours throwing the ball against the garage or playing with whomever would play, and I just kind of always assumed that that’s what every kid was doing when he was six, seven, eight, ten years old. And so then I’m reading your book, and you’re talking about all these riders who when they were six years old were strapping barrels up to trees, and it absolutely blew my mind. As you talk about this “alien culture” -- it was so completely different. What was that like? Did you get a sense of that from talking to these guys? I assume it’s just the same as me throwing a ball against a garage?
JP:
Well it’s a great observation, and I’m embarrassed to say I never really thought of it in those terms. I never really considered my childhood in a parallel sense to theirs and thought, “My god, what was I doing when they were out riding that bucking bull?” I guess I thought of it in terms of who they were today, and how the culture shaped them. But it is interesting. I tend to agree with you that growing up I was never aware that there were kids out there who didn’t want to become a baseball player, a basketball player, a football player. But you do see that same passion, and I think that most great athletes did grow up with becoming a star of a sport in mind, so it’s not hard to believe that the same passion drove these kids to the point where they get to the PBR.
BTB:
Another thing kind of to go with that -- this book, first and foremost, is obviously about the PBR and everything that surrounds it, but I think it’s really at its heart about athletes and competition. In that sense it’s not a whole lot different than a book that might’ve been written about the PGA Tour or major league baseball. Is that kind of what you expected going in? When you envisioned this book were you thinking about just writing about what happens, or all of these individual stories that came out from the different riders?
JP:
I really did go into it a little bit blindly in that I didn’t know exactly what to expect or what it was going to look like in its final form. What intrigued me was getting to know these guys and getting behind the scenes and finding out what this tour was all about. And you’re right, in the end it did unfold like many seasons might unfold, whether it’s baseball, basketball, football. Ultimately maybe I shouldn’t have been surprized. Maybe I fell into that stereotyping of who these guys were and who they might be, and yet there was an incredible variety of personalities and lifestyles on the tour. And in the end I think you do find yourself rooting for certain athletes and identifying with athletes the same way we do when we’re watching the NBA, NFL, or major league baseball. That in a way was kind of refreshing. I think that most people who are flipping through the channels and see bull riding might automatically assume, “Oh, just a bunch of cowboys,” because they don’t know much about that sport or these people. And yet they’re just as diverse -- the athletes -- as you’d find in any sport. Different, but just as diverse. That’s my take anyway.
BTB:
One guy I wanted to ask you about because he seemed to occupy a good chunk of the book as well, was Adriano Moraes. What was your experience with him like? He came across in the book as one of the pretty admirable characters.
JP:
Larger than life. Fascinating person. To have dropped out of high school in the ninth grade, and simply to have gotten to the United States and achieved something in his chosen sport I think would be remarkable enough. But to have dropped out in the ninth grade, come to the United States and become an absolute star in that circuit, and someone who’s beloved by the fans, and to have really developed an incredible command of the language is just astounding to me. I guess it sort of reinforces the idea that there are people whose intelligence isn’t necessarily measured well by public schools, or it’s never really channeled in school, because this is one of the most intelligent guys I’ve ever met. Now I’m not sure he could sit down and right you a thesis, but he just had incredible powers of observation which apparently nearly drove him crazy. I remember he came to visit me before the book signing in Beverly Hills, and we were walking along the Santa Monica Pier, and he made a remark about this portrait artist who was drawing some woman’s portrait. He said, "Her eyes are set too wide apart." And we were really walking by pretty briskly. And I stopped and said, “What are you talking about?” And he said, “Well, you know there are some people whose eyes are set apart wider than most of us? I saw that her eyes had been drawn that way, but it wasn’t the case. Her eyes are not set that wide apart.” We went back and we looked, and I was just astonished. He was right. The Learning Channel had some cameras following him because they’re doing a reality series that airs starting in January, and at one point they stopped him. They said, “Adriano, tell us where you are and who you’re with and what you’re doing.” And he said, “Well, right now I’m on the pier in Santa Monica.” And we had just come from Venice. And I’m thinking, Adriano, how did you even know we were in Santa Monica? He said, “Oh, I looked down at the manhole cover and saw it said Santa Monica.” It amazed me, and I was almost embarrassed that we had never had an experience until that point that had really driven home the point that he saw things in snapshots, that really time froze for him. As I walked past that portrait artist and the manhole cover either I saw it as a blur, or I didn’t see it all, and he couldn’t help but see every detail. And then I sort of fully understood why it was that what drove Adriano insane was he couldn’t figure out how he would stay on a bull if it flipped in midair, hooves over head. At first when he told me that, I’m like, well it makes sense that he dropped out of school in the ninth grade. This guy’s an idiot, but he’s fun, so let’s keep talking to him. And then I later discovered that he has this obsession that ties in with an ability. An obsessive quality, I don’t know how I would characterize it, that he can’t help but absorb everything he sees. So I was just blown away by the fact that he didn’t make it through high school, and that we’d typically sort of dismiss him as well, he’s not a very bright guy, and he was a very bright guy.
BTB:
It seems like you’re describing someone who’s incredibly detail oriented. As a sports fan I’ve read tons of sports books, and it seems like if there’s anything that great athletes have in common it’s attention to detail, an obsession with detail. You’d think that it would be good enough for Tiger Woods to go to bed at night and tell himself that he’s the best golfer in the world, but instead he has to hit a thousand balls a day or whatever it is that he does. And it seems like it’s probably, from what you’re describing, no different from what Adriano is doing. There was a scene in the book where you described him sitting in a hotel room mentally going over the ride and convincing himself that he had to keep his head over the bull. I guess it’s no different than any world class athlete. Would you agree with that?
JP:
I would definitely agree. I admire it, but it’s also frightening. I haven’t spent time with Tiger Woods, and I haven’t spent time with Barry Bonds, and yet I think having gotten the chance to spend time with Adriano, I know what it’s all about. They simply can’t turn it off. They can’t stop. It’s what makes them great. It’s what also drives them to the edge at times, because they’re so consumed with it. And that’s what I think happened with Adriano. When he went through that horrific season, or at least relatively for him it was horrific, in 2003, that to have failed to measure up to his standards as a bull rider meant he had failed in life. When you’re consumed by something like that I think you tend to let it identify who you are and your worth. But even as he started to succeed I could see him battling that again, his obsession with the whole thing and whatever it was that propelled him to need to be the best at the moment, the best ever. And I think the battle that Adriano fought was one to remember that there was more to life than just being a bull rider, but at the same time allowing himself to concentrate at a level that would allow him to be the best bull rider he could be.
BTB:
Before I read this book, like I said, I had very superficial opinions and ideas about bull riding. Another thing that surprized me, both in reading your book and also in watching some of this on TV, was the whole perception of the bulls. I always looked at it as, these bulls are just all the same and these guys are up there riding the bulls. It was really interesting how the bulls are seen -- they’re getting equal billing with the riders. Little Yellow Jacket is actually a star, and I watched a whole half-hour show all about Little Yellow Jacket. And the analysts are talking about them as if they’re athletes, and the other day -- I don’t remember which bull they were talking about...
JP (laughing):
Not as if they were athletes, they really are athletes! Like a horse that’s a thoroughbred!
BTB:
You’re right, you’re right! I don’t remember which bull it was, but they were describing how “this bull really gets it. As soon as he throws the rider, he never goes after the rider, he understands the game, he understands the sport. He just goes back into the chute.” And I’m listening to that, and it doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s just a bull, and he’s bucking people off. Can you talk about that a little bit, the “bull as athlete” idea?
JP:
The place you see it come into play most is riders’ styles. Most would prefer to have a bull that spins into their hand, it’s just easier to stay on and maintain their balance that way. And the bucking action. There are certain guys that, because of their size, would prefer a smaller bull, prefer a larger bull, prefer one that spins, prefer one that’s a hard bucker. You probably saw things at one point called “belly rolls,” where the bull sort of jumps up in mid air and twists his body. And funny thing is, the riders say, “Oh, he’s cheating.” As if the bull knows he’s intentionally cheating -- it’s hysterical. “That’s not an honest bull, that’s not an honest bucker,” they’d say. The thing that makes it interesting about the bulls is to see their styles. Some are very predictable in their trip, they’ll always turn out to the left, or always four jumps before they turn back. And that’s where Adriano can really get an advantage because he knows, and has memorized every trip. But there are others that are unpredictable and seem to really have an understanding that they need to surprize the rider, or whatever it is they think is on their back, because their goal is, obviously, to dismount the rider. They clearly don’t like to have anything on their backs, and they understand what it takes to get the thing off their back, the rider. So I think the smarter bulls -- and there’s no question that there’s some difference in level of intelligence among the bulls -- the smarter ones understand what they have to do to get that guy off, it’s not just pure power. There are some great small bulls. I really think, though I haven’t had a chance to interview a bull, that they sense when a rider’s leaning one way, how a rider’s trying to sit up, and I think it’s fascinating. But beyond that as far as, “this bull really gets it,” he threw the guy and that’s all he needs, that’s enough. The one thing you do see, like the riders themselves, these bulls have different dispositions. Little Yellow Jacket’s amazing. I mean, he stands there so regally. Like, “Did you see what I just did? I’m the king.” And then there are other bulls that look like they wanna take out everybody in the arena before they head back into the pen. They’re so damn angry. So it really is fascinating I think, the different personalities. And maybe that’s one thing that helps them market it. I don’t quite understand it, because for my money, and after a year on tour, I never felt myself identifying with a certain bull. For me it was always about the riders and the human connection. But their marketing department obviously knows what it’s doing, because they’re selling a ton of these beanie bulls and people for some reason love the bulls.
BTB:
On NBC’s coverage the last day of the finals, Little Yellow Jacket was coming out for his last ride, and you’ll probably remember who the rider was aboard, but the announcer basically said he was clearly rooting for the bull, that a bull like Little Yellow Jacket should not be covered on his last ride. He should be able to buck this guy off and stand in the ring one more time and then walk off into the sunset basically. It was just really interesting to me. We want Michael Jordan to make his last shot and win a championship and retire, and Little Yellow Jacket is obviously on that same plane. That’s how he’s being pitched.
JP:
I’m just gonna contradict something I just said. While I’m not out there saying, “These are my top ten favorite bulls, can’t wait to see this one,” there is something special about Little Yellow Jacket. But again, for me it was the human connection and what the animal had done for the Berger family. And also, I was drawn to that indifference he showed to the rider after the ride. I remember one time Rob Smith, I think I wrote about this in the book, it was in Indianapolis and he had bucked off some rider. And Rob Smith, the bullfighter, tossed his hat at the bull and it just bounced off him. Little Yellow Jacket never even glanced over at Rob. He was so unperturbed, unbothered by the whole thing. I don’t know, there was some majesty about him. Maybe that’s one time where you almost would tip your hat to the bull. I remember Tuff Hedeman -- and maybe it stems a little bit from the riders -- Tuff Hedeman probably almost lost his head and needed hours and hours of facial reconstruction after his collision with Bodacious, the famous bull.
BTB:
I remember this, you wrote about this as well right?
JP:
Right. On his next ride he was at the NFR Bull Riding finals, and I believe it was the ninth round where he had drawn Bodacious.
BTB:
And this is when he just let him go?
JP:
He turned him out. And although the video doesn’t show this, Tuff tipped his hat to him, which is a pretty remarkable thing. The bull didn’t see him, and I don’t know who the hell else he thought was gonna see him, and yet there was this show of respect. Because the riders somehow see these bulls as more than just animals, or maybe they view them with greater respect than most people would. And he really did see him as a fellow athlete, it was his opposition. I’m still kind of amazed by that. He took his hat off and tipped it at the bull. I don’t think it was a show, I don’t think it was for the fans. It’s clear to me it was a signal like, “I respect you. I respect the hell out of you, and I’m not riding you ever again.”
BTB:
Where’s the line between respect and fear? In the book there was one line that stuck out to me, you described this as “the greatest mismatch in sports.” And later on you quoted the tour’s medical director Tandy Freeman saying, “It’s not if you’ll get hurt, but when and how bad.” I wonder if you could talk about that. Is it something the riders can even talk about? Can they talk about the fear, or the idea that every time they sit on a bull they could be killed? Is that something that they can let themselves think? Did that come up at all?
JP:
It did come up. Some of them, I guess, fall back on the machismo and don’t speak about it openly. You’ll often hear Justin McBride say, “I’m not afraid of dying, I’m afraid of losing.” And I’m thinking, “Well, guess what. I bet you’re afraid of dying.” I’m sure there was also a fear of defeat and what that would mean to him. But Adriano told me that every time he got onto a bull, he was afraid, and that’s what kept him sharp. And maybe it’s the same thing for another athlete. I would imagine that every time Barry Bonds walks to the plate there’s a little tension there, and if you’re too relaxed, you’re not going to be at your best. And of course there’s a different situation where if you’re too relaxed you’re really putting yourself at great risk. So in talking to the riders my sense was that fear created this incredible surge of adrenaline that could almost become addictive. And they call them adrenaline junkies, and I think for some of them it absolutely applies. They love that sensation, and it’s one of the reasons they do it.
BTB:
So do you think these guys... obviously they’re athletes, but it would be easy to classify them as daredevils, which would maybe kind of diminish what they’re doing, but is there something to that as well?
JP:
Definitely, definitely. They’re willing to do something that, what? Ninety-eight percent of the population, maybe ninety-nine percent of the population wouldn’t dare do. And I think there are certainly a number of them that relish that, and that’s why they are kind of a closed off community. They’ll let you in, but unless you’re a bull rider, you’re really never in. You’re always in interloper. There’s a common denominator: do you have the balls to get on this thing; do you have the balls to get on it again? There are definitely a select few. But you’re right, it does diminish the athleticism involved, and I think that’s an unfortunate thing if it were to happen because one thing I did understand by the end of the year was that it requires an incredible amount of athleticism. These bulls move so fast, and are so powerful, that unless you have amazing agility and strength and quickness, there’s no way you can possibly do it. It’s not just a nutcase trying to hold onto a rope for eight seconds. Maybe these guys don’t have the same regimens, disciplined workout programs you’d see football players going through, but they were great athletes. Justin McBride’s a terrific wrestler, was a decent football player. Adriano Moraes would get in his cowboy boots, would walk along the panels in the pen. I don’t think many people could do it in sneakers, and he did it just as a matter of course. I think at some times he was trying to show people that he was more than a power rider. He has such an enormous left arm and biceps that people think that he’s gonna overpower the bull, which is at some level ludicrous. You’re still riding animals that weigh up to 2,000 pounds, so he might have a little bit of an advantage but you still need incredible balance and intelligence. So I think that sport requires many of the same athletic gifts as any other sport, so marketing the sport as an extreme sport with just a bunch of crazy daredevils, that might widen the audience but I think it does do a disservice to the riders, because they really are athletes.
BTB:
Some of the riders were wearing helmets. And it struck me that in this type of a sport that might be frowned upon. Is there any of that going on, or is there gonna be a day when everyone’s wearing a helmet? I see they’re all wearing vests now, I think everybody’s wearing a vest now, is that correct?
JP:
Yes.
BTB:
Is there gonna be a day when everybody’s wearing a helmet? It just seems like when you can do everything right and then get kicked in the head, it seems like a helmet might be a good thing.
JP:
Yeah, it certainly does. I think I’d be wearing a couple of helmets. But I don’t think you’ll ever see a day in bull riding where everyone is wearing helmets, because that hat...
BTB:
The other thing, even though the helmet seems like a good thing, as I’m watching it on TV -- and I’ve read the book, I’m seeing these 2,000 pound bulls -- as I’m watching it and some guy comes out with a helmet, I’m thinking, this guy looks kind of dorky with this helmet and mask. It’s not nearly as cool, I guess. You can’t flip the helmet.
JP:
Yeah, sadly it’s not. You can’t sail that through the air. It’s unfortunate, considering the risks they’re already taking and the injuries they’re already suffering, it’s totally understandable. They probably should push for these guys to wear the helmet, but it’s a jarring sight. You’re not at a rodeo, but you’re still watching cowboys, and you do think cowboys should be wearing cowboy hats, and that’s what most of these guys think. They’ll come up with all sorts of excuses: I can’t see through the bars, it throws off my balance... And Tandy Freeman the orthopedist is always saying, “Bullshit. We all know what it’s about.” It’s an image thing. And I think that more of the younger guys are wearing them now that they’re required at the junior level. So we will see an increasing number of riders wearing the helmets. And maybe it’ll evolve a little bit like helmets did in the NHL, but I think ultimately we’ll still see some of those cowboys wearing cowboy hats, if only for endorsement purposes. I’m not sure you can sell Marlboros, I’m not sure you can sell Bud Light in a helmet, but you sure as hell can sell it in a cowboy hat.
BTB:
I’ve got one last question. As I was reading the book I kept waiting for the chapter to come where you were gonna get on a bull. Either you never got on a bull, or you edited it out at some point.
JP (laughing):
Believe me, I wouldn’t have edited that thing out!
BTB:
Were you ever tempted to maybe at least sit on a bull in a shoot or to ride some smaller bull? I’m not saying that I would’ve been, but I’m just curious, I guess, how much George Plimpton is in you.
JP:
Towards the end of the season I wanted to do it, and at the time I got started with this my wife was pregnant and not really excited about the idea of my riding a bull. I’ll cite that as the primary reason rather than my own fear.
BTB:
So you wanted to ride a real bull?
JP:
Yeah, a real one.
BTB:
Little Yellow Jacket?
JP:
I didn’t want to ride a steer, I didn’t want to ride a sheep, I wanted to ride a bull. And I told Adriano this, and I said, “Look, after the season I want to come down and ride a bull with you.” He said, “At your age you’ll probably die.” The conversation went on, and I thought he was kidding, but I realized he really wasn’t. He was discouraging me because he really thought that I was gonna put myself in danger, and unnecessarily so. I wanted to, I was going to at one point ride early in the process before I started the book, but I had to start it so quickly there wasn’t time to get to a riding school. And then I just sort of got caught up in the season. So to write the book I didn’t really feel like it was necessary. When he discouraged it, I thought, you know, what am I doing here? Do I wanna break my back? Do I wanna come home with both legs? And I guess the impulse or the intrigue sort of faded. I admire these guys, but I don’t feel the itch when I’m back behind the chutes. I imagine it’s an amazing experience, but I would’ve had to suppress so much fear, it’s not like I would’ve done it with incredible enthusiasm. It would’ve been, I’m just gonna try it, but it’s gonna be the scariest damn thing in my life. Had I been younger, I probably would have, but I’m too old and brittle. I’ve covered all sorts of sports without having played them. I don’t think it’s necessary if you do really solid reporting and get to know your subjects.
BTB:
I assure you, if this had been a book about, I don’t know, baseball, I certainly wouldn’t have asked you if you had stepped in against Roger Clemens or something, but I figured there was probably a temptation to ride a bull, so I was just curious about that.
JP:
I think it would’ve been more that I did it. And I don’t find myself wondering right now. During the season I did, but not now.
BTB:
It could’ve been something that you would’ve regretted.
JP (laughing):
Exactly. Very well put.
When we were first exchanging e-mails before the book was published you mentioned that this whole experience was kind of like Bull Riding 101. I was wondering, what kind of background did you have? Were you a fan? Did you have any kind of experience? And if not, how did you get involved with this? What was the whole experience like? If you could just talk about all that...
Josh Peter:
I, like you, went to the rodeo maybe when I was ten or fifteen years old, probably closer to ten, and just vaguely remember the different events. And subsequent to that had no exposure until the professional bull riders came to New Orleans in 2000. I saw a media kit on my boss’s desk, it caught my eye and I picked it up. I was always looking for offbeat stories, and I thought it looked like an interesting one. It turns out that Chris Shivers, two-time champion, lived four hours from New Orleans. I asked my boss if I could take on the story, and he gave me a week to work on it, and I went and I did a profile on Chris Shivers, did something on the bull industry, the bull breeding industry, and then I covered the event. As soon as I covered the event, or that night, I just knew instantly that there was a book there. I had never written one, but it just struck me as such fascinating but alien culture. A sport that was thrilling, and yet one that I needed to know more about, and , I thought, that the general public would find interesting. So I tried to call the PBR, never really got a return call, and I sort of dropped the idea until four years later when a literary agency called and asked me if I wanted to write a book. It was sort of incredible how quickly it all came together: the proposal, the publisher, getting started. And I sort of assumed this is how publishing works. (I’m finding out that’s not quite how publishing works.) But it was great for the first run. So I really had no bull riding background. I had covered the primary sports for fifteen years. I had been to the NBA finals, been to the Summer Olympics in Sydney, the Ryder Cup, the Final Four. I had been to a lot of the majors, and had sort of grown a little bit bored of covering those events, so this was something that just piqued my curiosity. I really enjoy getting off the beaten path and immersing myself in a culture that I know little about and try to figure it out as fast as I can.
BTB:
One thing you talked about, the “alien culture” of this, and that was something that definitely struck me as I was reading it. When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was be a baseball player. I remember just for hours throwing the ball against the garage or playing with whomever would play, and I just kind of always assumed that that’s what every kid was doing when he was six, seven, eight, ten years old. And so then I’m reading your book, and you’re talking about all these riders who when they were six years old were strapping barrels up to trees, and it absolutely blew my mind. As you talk about this “alien culture” -- it was so completely different. What was that like? Did you get a sense of that from talking to these guys? I assume it’s just the same as me throwing a ball against a garage?
JP:
Well it’s a great observation, and I’m embarrassed to say I never really thought of it in those terms. I never really considered my childhood in a parallel sense to theirs and thought, “My god, what was I doing when they were out riding that bucking bull?” I guess I thought of it in terms of who they were today, and how the culture shaped them. But it is interesting. I tend to agree with you that growing up I was never aware that there were kids out there who didn’t want to become a baseball player, a basketball player, a football player. But you do see that same passion, and I think that most great athletes did grow up with becoming a star of a sport in mind, so it’s not hard to believe that the same passion drove these kids to the point where they get to the PBR.
BTB:
Another thing kind of to go with that -- this book, first and foremost, is obviously about the PBR and everything that surrounds it, but I think it’s really at its heart about athletes and competition. In that sense it’s not a whole lot different than a book that might’ve been written about the PGA Tour or major league baseball. Is that kind of what you expected going in? When you envisioned this book were you thinking about just writing about what happens, or all of these individual stories that came out from the different riders?
JP:
I really did go into it a little bit blindly in that I didn’t know exactly what to expect or what it was going to look like in its final form. What intrigued me was getting to know these guys and getting behind the scenes and finding out what this tour was all about. And you’re right, in the end it did unfold like many seasons might unfold, whether it’s baseball, basketball, football. Ultimately maybe I shouldn’t have been surprized. Maybe I fell into that stereotyping of who these guys were and who they might be, and yet there was an incredible variety of personalities and lifestyles on the tour. And in the end I think you do find yourself rooting for certain athletes and identifying with athletes the same way we do when we’re watching the NBA, NFL, or major league baseball. That in a way was kind of refreshing. I think that most people who are flipping through the channels and see bull riding might automatically assume, “Oh, just a bunch of cowboys,” because they don’t know much about that sport or these people. And yet they’re just as diverse -- the athletes -- as you’d find in any sport. Different, but just as diverse. That’s my take anyway.
BTB:
One guy I wanted to ask you about because he seemed to occupy a good chunk of the book as well, was Adriano Moraes. What was your experience with him like? He came across in the book as one of the pretty admirable characters.
JP:
Larger than life. Fascinating person. To have dropped out of high school in the ninth grade, and simply to have gotten to the United States and achieved something in his chosen sport I think would be remarkable enough. But to have dropped out in the ninth grade, come to the United States and become an absolute star in that circuit, and someone who’s beloved by the fans, and to have really developed an incredible command of the language is just astounding to me. I guess it sort of reinforces the idea that there are people whose intelligence isn’t necessarily measured well by public schools, or it’s never really channeled in school, because this is one of the most intelligent guys I’ve ever met. Now I’m not sure he could sit down and right you a thesis, but he just had incredible powers of observation which apparently nearly drove him crazy. I remember he came to visit me before the book signing in Beverly Hills, and we were walking along the Santa Monica Pier, and he made a remark about this portrait artist who was drawing some woman’s portrait. He said, "Her eyes are set too wide apart." And we were really walking by pretty briskly. And I stopped and said, “What are you talking about?” And he said, “Well, you know there are some people whose eyes are set apart wider than most of us? I saw that her eyes had been drawn that way, but it wasn’t the case. Her eyes are not set that wide apart.” We went back and we looked, and I was just astonished. He was right. The Learning Channel had some cameras following him because they’re doing a reality series that airs starting in January, and at one point they stopped him. They said, “Adriano, tell us where you are and who you’re with and what you’re doing.” And he said, “Well, right now I’m on the pier in Santa Monica.” And we had just come from Venice. And I’m thinking, Adriano, how did you even know we were in Santa Monica? He said, “Oh, I looked down at the manhole cover and saw it said Santa Monica.” It amazed me, and I was almost embarrassed that we had never had an experience until that point that had really driven home the point that he saw things in snapshots, that really time froze for him. As I walked past that portrait artist and the manhole cover either I saw it as a blur, or I didn’t see it all, and he couldn’t help but see every detail. And then I sort of fully understood why it was that what drove Adriano insane was he couldn’t figure out how he would stay on a bull if it flipped in midair, hooves over head. At first when he told me that, I’m like, well it makes sense that he dropped out of school in the ninth grade. This guy’s an idiot, but he’s fun, so let’s keep talking to him. And then I later discovered that he has this obsession that ties in with an ability. An obsessive quality, I don’t know how I would characterize it, that he can’t help but absorb everything he sees. So I was just blown away by the fact that he didn’t make it through high school, and that we’d typically sort of dismiss him as well, he’s not a very bright guy, and he was a very bright guy.
BTB:
It seems like you’re describing someone who’s incredibly detail oriented. As a sports fan I’ve read tons of sports books, and it seems like if there’s anything that great athletes have in common it’s attention to detail, an obsession with detail. You’d think that it would be good enough for Tiger Woods to go to bed at night and tell himself that he’s the best golfer in the world, but instead he has to hit a thousand balls a day or whatever it is that he does. And it seems like it’s probably, from what you’re describing, no different from what Adriano is doing. There was a scene in the book where you described him sitting in a hotel room mentally going over the ride and convincing himself that he had to keep his head over the bull. I guess it’s no different than any world class athlete. Would you agree with that?
JP:
I would definitely agree. I admire it, but it’s also frightening. I haven’t spent time with Tiger Woods, and I haven’t spent time with Barry Bonds, and yet I think having gotten the chance to spend time with Adriano, I know what it’s all about. They simply can’t turn it off. They can’t stop. It’s what makes them great. It’s what also drives them to the edge at times, because they’re so consumed with it. And that’s what I think happened with Adriano. When he went through that horrific season, or at least relatively for him it was horrific, in 2003, that to have failed to measure up to his standards as a bull rider meant he had failed in life. When you’re consumed by something like that I think you tend to let it identify who you are and your worth. But even as he started to succeed I could see him battling that again, his obsession with the whole thing and whatever it was that propelled him to need to be the best at the moment, the best ever. And I think the battle that Adriano fought was one to remember that there was more to life than just being a bull rider, but at the same time allowing himself to concentrate at a level that would allow him to be the best bull rider he could be.
BTB:
Before I read this book, like I said, I had very superficial opinions and ideas about bull riding. Another thing that surprized me, both in reading your book and also in watching some of this on TV, was the whole perception of the bulls. I always looked at it as, these bulls are just all the same and these guys are up there riding the bulls. It was really interesting how the bulls are seen -- they’re getting equal billing with the riders. Little Yellow Jacket is actually a star, and I watched a whole half-hour show all about Little Yellow Jacket. And the analysts are talking about them as if they’re athletes, and the other day -- I don’t remember which bull they were talking about...
JP (laughing):
Not as if they were athletes, they really are athletes! Like a horse that’s a thoroughbred!
BTB:
You’re right, you’re right! I don’t remember which bull it was, but they were describing how “this bull really gets it. As soon as he throws the rider, he never goes after the rider, he understands the game, he understands the sport. He just goes back into the chute.” And I’m listening to that, and it doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s just a bull, and he’s bucking people off. Can you talk about that a little bit, the “bull as athlete” idea?
JP:
The place you see it come into play most is riders’ styles. Most would prefer to have a bull that spins into their hand, it’s just easier to stay on and maintain their balance that way. And the bucking action. There are certain guys that, because of their size, would prefer a smaller bull, prefer a larger bull, prefer one that spins, prefer one that’s a hard bucker. You probably saw things at one point called “belly rolls,” where the bull sort of jumps up in mid air and twists his body. And funny thing is, the riders say, “Oh, he’s cheating.” As if the bull knows he’s intentionally cheating -- it’s hysterical. “That’s not an honest bull, that’s not an honest bucker,” they’d say. The thing that makes it interesting about the bulls is to see their styles. Some are very predictable in their trip, they’ll always turn out to the left, or always four jumps before they turn back. And that’s where Adriano can really get an advantage because he knows, and has memorized every trip. But there are others that are unpredictable and seem to really have an understanding that they need to surprize the rider, or whatever it is they think is on their back, because their goal is, obviously, to dismount the rider. They clearly don’t like to have anything on their backs, and they understand what it takes to get the thing off their back, the rider. So I think the smarter bulls -- and there’s no question that there’s some difference in level of intelligence among the bulls -- the smarter ones understand what they have to do to get that guy off, it’s not just pure power. There are some great small bulls. I really think, though I haven’t had a chance to interview a bull, that they sense when a rider’s leaning one way, how a rider’s trying to sit up, and I think it’s fascinating. But beyond that as far as, “this bull really gets it,” he threw the guy and that’s all he needs, that’s enough. The one thing you do see, like the riders themselves, these bulls have different dispositions. Little Yellow Jacket’s amazing. I mean, he stands there so regally. Like, “Did you see what I just did? I’m the king.” And then there are other bulls that look like they wanna take out everybody in the arena before they head back into the pen. They’re so damn angry. So it really is fascinating I think, the different personalities. And maybe that’s one thing that helps them market it. I don’t quite understand it, because for my money, and after a year on tour, I never felt myself identifying with a certain bull. For me it was always about the riders and the human connection. But their marketing department obviously knows what it’s doing, because they’re selling a ton of these beanie bulls and people for some reason love the bulls.
BTB:
On NBC’s coverage the last day of the finals, Little Yellow Jacket was coming out for his last ride, and you’ll probably remember who the rider was aboard, but the announcer basically said he was clearly rooting for the bull, that a bull like Little Yellow Jacket should not be covered on his last ride. He should be able to buck this guy off and stand in the ring one more time and then walk off into the sunset basically. It was just really interesting to me. We want Michael Jordan to make his last shot and win a championship and retire, and Little Yellow Jacket is obviously on that same plane. That’s how he’s being pitched.
JP:
I’m just gonna contradict something I just said. While I’m not out there saying, “These are my top ten favorite bulls, can’t wait to see this one,” there is something special about Little Yellow Jacket. But again, for me it was the human connection and what the animal had done for the Berger family. And also, I was drawn to that indifference he showed to the rider after the ride. I remember one time Rob Smith, I think I wrote about this in the book, it was in Indianapolis and he had bucked off some rider. And Rob Smith, the bullfighter, tossed his hat at the bull and it just bounced off him. Little Yellow Jacket never even glanced over at Rob. He was so unperturbed, unbothered by the whole thing. I don’t know, there was some majesty about him. Maybe that’s one time where you almost would tip your hat to the bull. I remember Tuff Hedeman -- and maybe it stems a little bit from the riders -- Tuff Hedeman probably almost lost his head and needed hours and hours of facial reconstruction after his collision with Bodacious, the famous bull.
BTB:
I remember this, you wrote about this as well right?
JP:
Right. On his next ride he was at the NFR Bull Riding finals, and I believe it was the ninth round where he had drawn Bodacious.
BTB:
And this is when he just let him go?
JP:
He turned him out. And although the video doesn’t show this, Tuff tipped his hat to him, which is a pretty remarkable thing. The bull didn’t see him, and I don’t know who the hell else he thought was gonna see him, and yet there was this show of respect. Because the riders somehow see these bulls as more than just animals, or maybe they view them with greater respect than most people would. And he really did see him as a fellow athlete, it was his opposition. I’m still kind of amazed by that. He took his hat off and tipped it at the bull. I don’t think it was a show, I don’t think it was for the fans. It’s clear to me it was a signal like, “I respect you. I respect the hell out of you, and I’m not riding you ever again.”
BTB:
Where’s the line between respect and fear? In the book there was one line that stuck out to me, you described this as “the greatest mismatch in sports.” And later on you quoted the tour’s medical director Tandy Freeman saying, “It’s not if you’ll get hurt, but when and how bad.” I wonder if you could talk about that. Is it something the riders can even talk about? Can they talk about the fear, or the idea that every time they sit on a bull they could be killed? Is that something that they can let themselves think? Did that come up at all?
JP:
It did come up. Some of them, I guess, fall back on the machismo and don’t speak about it openly. You’ll often hear Justin McBride say, “I’m not afraid of dying, I’m afraid of losing.” And I’m thinking, “Well, guess what. I bet you’re afraid of dying.” I’m sure there was also a fear of defeat and what that would mean to him. But Adriano told me that every time he got onto a bull, he was afraid, and that’s what kept him sharp. And maybe it’s the same thing for another athlete. I would imagine that every time Barry Bonds walks to the plate there’s a little tension there, and if you’re too relaxed, you’re not going to be at your best. And of course there’s a different situation where if you’re too relaxed you’re really putting yourself at great risk. So in talking to the riders my sense was that fear created this incredible surge of adrenaline that could almost become addictive. And they call them adrenaline junkies, and I think for some of them it absolutely applies. They love that sensation, and it’s one of the reasons they do it.
BTB:
So do you think these guys... obviously they’re athletes, but it would be easy to classify them as daredevils, which would maybe kind of diminish what they’re doing, but is there something to that as well?
JP:
Definitely, definitely. They’re willing to do something that, what? Ninety-eight percent of the population, maybe ninety-nine percent of the population wouldn’t dare do. And I think there are certainly a number of them that relish that, and that’s why they are kind of a closed off community. They’ll let you in, but unless you’re a bull rider, you’re really never in. You’re always in interloper. There’s a common denominator: do you have the balls to get on this thing; do you have the balls to get on it again? There are definitely a select few. But you’re right, it does diminish the athleticism involved, and I think that’s an unfortunate thing if it were to happen because one thing I did understand by the end of the year was that it requires an incredible amount of athleticism. These bulls move so fast, and are so powerful, that unless you have amazing agility and strength and quickness, there’s no way you can possibly do it. It’s not just a nutcase trying to hold onto a rope for eight seconds. Maybe these guys don’t have the same regimens, disciplined workout programs you’d see football players going through, but they were great athletes. Justin McBride’s a terrific wrestler, was a decent football player. Adriano Moraes would get in his cowboy boots, would walk along the panels in the pen. I don’t think many people could do it in sneakers, and he did it just as a matter of course. I think at some times he was trying to show people that he was more than a power rider. He has such an enormous left arm and biceps that people think that he’s gonna overpower the bull, which is at some level ludicrous. You’re still riding animals that weigh up to 2,000 pounds, so he might have a little bit of an advantage but you still need incredible balance and intelligence. So I think that sport requires many of the same athletic gifts as any other sport, so marketing the sport as an extreme sport with just a bunch of crazy daredevils, that might widen the audience but I think it does do a disservice to the riders, because they really are athletes.
BTB:
Some of the riders were wearing helmets. And it struck me that in this type of a sport that might be frowned upon. Is there any of that going on, or is there gonna be a day when everyone’s wearing a helmet? I see they’re all wearing vests now, I think everybody’s wearing a vest now, is that correct?
JP:
Yes.
BTB:
Is there gonna be a day when everybody’s wearing a helmet? It just seems like when you can do everything right and then get kicked in the head, it seems like a helmet might be a good thing.
JP:
Yeah, it certainly does. I think I’d be wearing a couple of helmets. But I don’t think you’ll ever see a day in bull riding where everyone is wearing helmets, because that hat...
BTB:
The other thing, even though the helmet seems like a good thing, as I’m watching it on TV -- and I’ve read the book, I’m seeing these 2,000 pound bulls -- as I’m watching it and some guy comes out with a helmet, I’m thinking, this guy looks kind of dorky with this helmet and mask. It’s not nearly as cool, I guess. You can’t flip the helmet.
JP:
Yeah, sadly it’s not. You can’t sail that through the air. It’s unfortunate, considering the risks they’re already taking and the injuries they’re already suffering, it’s totally understandable. They probably should push for these guys to wear the helmet, but it’s a jarring sight. You’re not at a rodeo, but you’re still watching cowboys, and you do think cowboys should be wearing cowboy hats, and that’s what most of these guys think. They’ll come up with all sorts of excuses: I can’t see through the bars, it throws off my balance... And Tandy Freeman the orthopedist is always saying, “Bullshit. We all know what it’s about.” It’s an image thing. And I think that more of the younger guys are wearing them now that they’re required at the junior level. So we will see an increasing number of riders wearing the helmets. And maybe it’ll evolve a little bit like helmets did in the NHL, but I think ultimately we’ll still see some of those cowboys wearing cowboy hats, if only for endorsement purposes. I’m not sure you can sell Marlboros, I’m not sure you can sell Bud Light in a helmet, but you sure as hell can sell it in a cowboy hat.
BTB:
I’ve got one last question. As I was reading the book I kept waiting for the chapter to come where you were gonna get on a bull. Either you never got on a bull, or you edited it out at some point.
JP (laughing):
Believe me, I wouldn’t have edited that thing out!
BTB:
Were you ever tempted to maybe at least sit on a bull in a shoot or to ride some smaller bull? I’m not saying that I would’ve been, but I’m just curious, I guess, how much George Plimpton is in you.
JP:
Towards the end of the season I wanted to do it, and at the time I got started with this my wife was pregnant and not really excited about the idea of my riding a bull. I’ll cite that as the primary reason rather than my own fear.
BTB:
So you wanted to ride a real bull?
JP:
Yeah, a real one.
BTB:
Little Yellow Jacket?
JP:
I didn’t want to ride a steer, I didn’t want to ride a sheep, I wanted to ride a bull. And I told Adriano this, and I said, “Look, after the season I want to come down and ride a bull with you.” He said, “At your age you’ll probably die.” The conversation went on, and I thought he was kidding, but I realized he really wasn’t. He was discouraging me because he really thought that I was gonna put myself in danger, and unnecessarily so. I wanted to, I was going to at one point ride early in the process before I started the book, but I had to start it so quickly there wasn’t time to get to a riding school. And then I just sort of got caught up in the season. So to write the book I didn’t really feel like it was necessary. When he discouraged it, I thought, you know, what am I doing here? Do I wanna break my back? Do I wanna come home with both legs? And I guess the impulse or the intrigue sort of faded. I admire these guys, but I don’t feel the itch when I’m back behind the chutes. I imagine it’s an amazing experience, but I would’ve had to suppress so much fear, it’s not like I would’ve done it with incredible enthusiasm. It would’ve been, I’m just gonna try it, but it’s gonna be the scariest damn thing in my life. Had I been younger, I probably would have, but I’m too old and brittle. I’ve covered all sorts of sports without having played them. I don’t think it’s necessary if you do really solid reporting and get to know your subjects.
BTB:
I assure you, if this had been a book about, I don’t know, baseball, I certainly wouldn’t have asked you if you had stepped in against Roger Clemens or something, but I figured there was probably a temptation to ride a bull, so I was just curious about that.
JP:
I think it would’ve been more that I did it. And I don’t find myself wondering right now. During the season I did, but not now.
BTB:
It could’ve been something that you would’ve regretted.
JP (laughing):
Exactly. Very well put.
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