“Who here’s new to bull riding?” The announcer’s voice rang through the stadium. 

Sporadic declarations of “Me!” rang out from the stands — to which I contributed, as I was one of the first-timers in the crowd. 

Whatever my expectations were going into my first Professional Bull Riders (PBR) event, they were immediately exceeded when a cowboy sprang out of the chutes, moving with the bull to the backdrop of 50 Cent. The seat next to me is occupied by a delighted little girl, who emits cheers and shrieks with a casualness that says it all: this isn’t her first rodeo. 

For those of us who were new to the rodeo, the rules of the game were laid out in a brief introduction. They’re simple, or so everyone else in the stadium seemed to think: stay on the bull, by way of a piece of rope wrapped around its stomach, without touching the bull with your free hand — and do it with style. The riders who meet the eight-second requirement then qualify to receive a score. Those who didn’t just hope to walk out without injury. 

For the classic sports fan, the next layer of competition was more familiar. Each rider belonged to one of 10 teams, all of which competed one-on-one during five games throughout the night. 

The crowd leans forward in their seats, gravitating toward the pull of the arena and responding to each twist and turn of the bull and rider’s bodies; collectively, we hold our breaths for the two minutes that a rider from the team “Missouri Thunder” remained limp on the dirt after a bull’s hoof clipped his head — a silent prayer for a stranger in a loud stadium. 

The announcer reignites our spirits, handling the situation with a calm, energetic ease. “Alright, looks like he is walking! Let’s hear it for him, ladies and gents.” The show goes on.

For a northerner, the concept of PBR is as foreign as snow is to Texans. But it is an extraordinary display of southern spirit and community — and something to consider attending, if you have the heart for extreme sports.