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Facing the bulls
Rodeo life creates an adrenaline rush not easily forgotten. Seaver began working as a cowboy protector -- a clown who untangles a bull rider and distracts the bull when the rider jumps or falls off -- while on a rodeo scholarship at Vernon Regional Junior College. He had ridden bulls and broncos since his youth, but Seaver enjoyed receiving a paycheck every night of a rodeo when he worked as a clown. His interest increased when he competed on the Texas Rodeo Circuit, which featured bullfights at the end of some rodeos. Those competitions introduced him to American freestyle bullfighting, a variation of the Mexican sport but without swords and capes. A bloodless event for the bull, American freestyle features clowns clad in "baggies," pants with bandannas suspended from them to get the animal's attention.
"You play tag for 70 seconds, and you're judged," Seaver said. Two judges can award a maximum of 50 points each, 25 based on the bull's movements and 25 for the fighter's performance. Competitors consider a mark in the 80s or higher a good score. Like many fellow athletes at his school, Seaver discovered that classroom demands and his sport's travel schedule "did not mix." He left college and eventually earned a spot on the Budweiser Super Bull Circuit, competing in American freestyle. Seaver, who lived in Stephenville until moving to Lampasas in 1998, contracted for cowboy-saving and rodeo clown duties. He entered rodeos all across North Texas and ventured to some contests in New Mexico, Louisiana and Oklahoma as well. The athlete competed against animals bred specifically for fighting, such as Corriente bulls. In Texas, rodeos use "half-bloods" bred from domestic stock and their fiercer Mexican counterparts. Mexican fighting bulls have to be transported in separate compartments in cattle trailers to prevent them from injuring each other. At rodeos, fighting bulls usually were kept in corrals several hundred feet from other animals, and handlers led them out on long ropes, Seaver said. Pain never ventured far from his mind when he competed. During Seaver's career he dislocated an elbow, lost three front teeth, underwent chin surgery and had his face stepped on by a bull. At a rodeo in Bowie, Seaver attempted a barrel trick but didn't realize his partner, who was supposed to be inside the approximately 300-pound barrel to add weight, was in the stands. The bull hit the barrel, knocking it farther than it would have gone with a man inside. The prop rolled over Seaver, nearly breaking both his arms. "They were going to get you," he said of the bulls he faced. "It was just how quick and how bad." Seaver's wife Carrie, whom he met while she attended Tarleton State University, said Rodney's "macho" sport didn't impress her much initially. As the two grew closer, watching bullfights became even more difficult. "I was scared a lot," Mrs. Seaver said. "It was really hard for me." Seaver generally observed the most serious injuries and faced the greatest threats to his own safety when working as a cowboy-saving clown. He studied each rider and noted the hand he used to grip the rope. Riders tried to dismount on the same side as the grip hand, so the cowboy protector had to move to the bull's opposite side and touch its head to get its attention. This would distract the animal and cause it to turn when the athlete jumped. When a bull bucked a cowboy, Seaver had to stay between the rider and the bull until the cowboy escaped to safety. "A lot of times you have to take a hit," the former rodeo clown said. Amateur riders tended to suffer worse, and more frequent, injuries than experienced cowboys, he said. Seaver also saw numerous riders get caught in the rope tied around the bull, and he had to intervene to protect the cowboys. Because cowboys at times simply forgot to release the rope, Seaver said he always yelled, "Let go!" before trying to untangle a rider. More serious hang-ups required Seaver to pop loose the tail of the rope, a movement that exposed him to the angry bull. "You get in such predicaments because there's somebody else involved," he said. Like bull rides, bullfights did not take long to complete -- although the event felt like a century in the ring. "Seventy seconds is a lifetime when you're running for your life," Seaver said. American freestyle rules allow competitors to quit after 40 seconds, and a bullfighter can earn a high score if he and the bull excel throughout that time. Seaver attempted his most challenging moves -- barrel tricks, jumps, passes and steps directly around the bull -- early in the round, before fatigue overtook him. In one of his most difficult tricks, Seaver occasionally jumped from a barrel onto a bull and then walked down its back. "That right there, if you could do it successfully without getting mauled, would win you a bullfight almost every time," he said. Along with the tests he faced at rodeos, long-distance running helped Seaver build his endurance. "The rodeo life keeps you in shape," he said. "[Bullfighting] is a young man's sport, as with bull riding." Seaver claimed the Bosque River bullfighting championship buckle in 1996 and performed at a variety of arenas, including Louisiana State University's "Death Dome," packed with fans and pulsating with rock-and-roll music during his bullfight. The venue earned its nickname because of its concrete walls and shortage of escape routes. Bull riders and fighters could get away only through a half-pen and the chutes where gate keepers released bulls. Seaver also earned a brief appearance in "8 Seconds," a movie about world champion bull rider Lane Frost's career and his death from a rodeo accident. "There's a good shot of me for about a good 25 seconds, and that was from a whole week of filming," Seaver said. |
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