Why cowboys put it all on the line to stay on a 2,000-lb bull for 8 seconds

On a smoky Thursday afternoon at the Calgary Stampede, the spectacle is on full display at GMC Stadium. 

A stylized video package plays on the jumbotron, complete with sound effects of an eagle call and a sword being unsheathed, something that might play on ESPN if the Calgary Stampede pre-empted Monday Night Football. Fireworks blast into the air as the crowd roars. 

As initial rodeo events get underway, 28-year-old Josh Frost is warming up for what many considered the main event — bull riding. It's a sport where participants mount bucking bulls that can weigh up to 2,000 pounds (900 kilograms).

Frost makes time for an interview just outside the competitors' space, just steps away from a makeshift bar area where revellers wearing cowboy hats down plastic cups of Budweiser beer and Stampede caesars.

"This is one of those rodeos you dream of as a little kid to get a ride at," said Frost, who is now at his third competition in Calgary. "I dang sure love the event."

More than 100,000 visitors a day will pass through the gates at the Calgary Stampede, an annual festival held in July in Calgary. The rodeo is the central focus of the exhibition, and is possibly the most famous of its kind in the world. 

Bull riding, the star event, has a long legacy among rodeo families and is dangerous by nature, as riders face off against massive, unpredictable creatures. But as riders put it, there's nothing more satisfying than besting the bull — especially given the size and speed of today's animals.

During a bull ride, riders enter a small area where the beast is held, called the bucking chute. They mount the bull and grip the rope around the animal, usually underhand, while holding their free hand high in the air. They signal they're ready to go.

The bucking chute opens and 1,500 pounds of muscle bursts into the arena, trying to do anything to hurl the rider up and into the dirt. The rider tries to shift their weight with the leaps and turns. It's all over in eight seconds.

Eight rodeos in six days

This is a busy time on the rodeo circuit, according to Frost. 

Frost, who hails from Utah, recently competed in eight rodeos in six days, and fatigue has started to set in. There's something to be said for the glamour of the arena, but there's a lot of long days and hard miles as they criss-cross the country to various events.

But the luster of the Stampede brings with it renewed adrenaline. The Stampede, which started in 1912, is one of the most lucrative rodeo events in the world, and yearly draws premier competitors, as well as significant media attention. 

About 45 minutes before the event starts, Frost starts his warm-up in the locker room. Bull riding is tough on the core and groin muscles. So before an event, Frost will do 50 squats, 25 lunges, light stretching and jumping jacks. 

In the locker room, he sees familiar faces. Though they're competitors in the ring, there's a respect behind the scenes. Frost says it's also an opportunity to ease pre-ride nerves: "We have a lot of fun down there."

There's always a distinctive couple of smells in the room. Rosin, a sticky substance riders use to give them a better grip on the rope, smells of pine. There's also the whiff of cow manure. The bulls have their own distinct smells, too. There's definitely dirt in there, and it's sometimes sweet.

The mix of aromas can "dang sure" trigger memories, Frost says.

Some bulls will make their opinions of riders clear, hitting the pen as they walk by. Others have softer personalities and will want their soon-to-be competitors to pet and scratch them. But every bull has a different personality, and learning about it is part of Frost's process.

"I always like to go find my bull before the rodeo, kind of get my eyes on him, see how he's built. I can sometimes tell how he's gonna feel just by how their body's built, how wide their back is, how heavy they are," he said.

These bulls aren't like the bulls previous generations rode. Over the last couple of decades, bulls have been bred to prioritize the best qualities, meaning these animals are bigger, stronger, faster.

The game has changed

"It's crazy different how much better the bulls are out there," said Steve Knowles, the director of rodeo administration for the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association.

"Just the genetics alone, and breeding for this, has changed the game."

Knowles was a bull rider himself in the late 1980s. Over the last couple of decades, he's been a full-time PRCA official, which has taken him to hundreds of rodeos. From that vantage point, he's had a front-row view to see how the sport has changed, as prize money has skyrocketed and as athletes have had to adapt to their new opponents.

"I'm not taking anything away from the riders of the past — they were great bull riders. But today, these guys are real athletes. I mean, they work out, they have a regiment, they eat nutritional food, they take care of their bodies," he said.

That's why Frost is in the midst of preparing for his ride right now, priming the muscles he'll need to use to stay on the bull, while being mindful of the injuries he could suffer.

As Frost goes through his process, rodeo-goers in GMC Stadium take in the afternoon's events: tie-down roping, steer wrestling, saddle bronc.  

The mood feels relaxed as some spectators get up from their seats, walk around and chat. Others order Chardonnay in the private boxes.

The atmosphere changes suddenly when it's bull riding time. 

Every seat gets filled and phones come out, pointed toward the action.

The risks at play

Perhaps it's the danger inherent in the sport that draws people to watch from all around the world.

Malcolm and Madeleine Beck came from England. They said it fascinates them.

"It's phenomenal to watch, to see how they stay on for the length of time, and lovely for us to have experienced it," Malcolm said.

Rodeo runs in Frost's family. His father and older brother were also bull riders. 

His second cousin was Lane Frost, a champion bull rider who was killed by a bull, struck after a ride during a 1989 rodeo in Wyoming. In 1994, actor Luke Perry played Lane in the Hollywood movie 8 Seconds — the title refers to the amount of time a rider must stay on a bull to qualify.

Knowles doesn't have the answer as to why people are so drawn to the event. 

"Maybe we were just born with that instinct," he said. "But a lot of people are drawn to it. They like it. And I think it's just the unknown, the unknown of what's going to happen."

And that comes with risks.

Prominent deaths in the sport have led to changes in safety. After Lane Frost died, one of his travelling partners, Cody Lambert, was instrumental in creating the protective vests now worn by bull riders. 

"It pretty well protects the vital organs in the chest and stomach area … it's a game changer for our sport," Knowles said.

Still, the nature of the event means it's impossible to mitigate all dangers.

In 2011, Dale Butterwick, a sports epidemiologist with the University of Calgary, released results from a rodeo injury database he had been compiling. 

It determined that nearly 20 of every 100,000 rodeo contestants could expect to suffer a "catastrophic injury," the highest portion by far in bull riding. 

Injuries sustained by riders have included fractures, knee ligament tears, back and spinal injuries and head injuries, including concussions.

A number of safety protocols have followed, including when it comes to post-concussion symptoms. As of 2021, riders can now be pulled out of competition for head, neck or abdominal injuries deemed unsafe, said Brandon Thome, the executive director of the Canadian Pro Rodeo Sport Medicine Team.

"The education portion of what we've been doing in the last seven years has been leaps and bounds from when I first started, for sure," said Thome, who counts Butterwick as one of his mentors.

Injuries are part of rodeo, bull rider Frost acknowledges. But so much of bull riding is unconscious, done on instinct and by capitalizing on adrenaline.

"With protective vests and being a professional at this level, we kind of know how to take care of ourselves," he said. "But, you know, it's part of the challenge. But you could get killed every time you hop in your car, and everybody still hops in their car and takes off driving."

Sitting at home on a Saturday night

At 28, Frost is nearing the traditional end of a bull rider's career. If you're lucky, you might be able to go until 35, but injuries have a way of stacking up.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is 20-year-old Lukasey Morris, a promising young bull rider from Union City, Okla. His father, also a bull rider, encouraged him not to pursue the family trade, but Morris couldn't envision any other life for himself.

"I mean, I was just a cowboy, from the time I was in elementary school," he said. 

As for what he likes about competition? There's the money — at the Stampede alone, there's $1.85 million spread across six rodeo events. 

"It's almost mind-blowing how much money we can make from being a cowboy," Morris said.

Being a part of the rich, 110-year history of the event is another part of the appeal. Sometimes, it's just the adventure itself.

"It's awesome. I haven't been home in the last two months, and I'm not going to be home for another two months," he said. "It's a bunch of late night drives, truck-stop showers, eating ramen noodles at a gas station."

Morris has lofty goals: In his words, to become "one of the greatest riders ever."

He wants to win, because if you don't, you have to go home.

It's also a test of will and endurance that few will ever experience themselves.

"I mean, these bulls are 1,500 pounds all the way up to 2,000 pounds. As a human, if you can overcome something like that, that has that much advantage over you … I mean, you're doing something that not very many people can do," he said.

On Thursday, he mounts his bull and signals he's ready to go. The bucking chute opens and the bull storms into the arena. It lasts only a few seconds.

Morris is flung off, landing hard in the dirt on his back as the crowd gasps.

He gets up quickly, dusts himself off. The expression on his face is clear, captured on the jumbotron: anger, disappointment.

It's not his day. But he'll be back.

But eventually, for Morris, and for Frost — who places third on the day, taking home $4,500 — their time in the arena will one day end. For Frost, that will bring positives, as getting older in the sport means it becomes more difficult to be away from family.

For others, the transition away from the sport is tough. It's hard to let go — the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the event, the adrenaline rush tied to the danger. 

"It's hard to get over this, when you decide you've had enough. You really miss the lifestyle," said Knowles, the former bull rider. "It's almost like a drug, right? It's a tough addiction to get away from it.

"Every time, every Saturday night, you're sitting at home, and you're thinking, 'Man, I need to be in a bull ride.'"