Bull Fighting

Bull riding is 90% mental work. In bull riding everyone has his own manner of bucking and controlling the bull.

“About the Bull? All right, bullfighting is 90% mental. They’re lying; everybody tells you something else. Because you have to be on your bull when you get on it, all this is important. It is not the expected behavior of human beings since bull riding. Ninety-nine percent practice bull riding. Basically. Because everything’s about time. Jump to jump riding because the bulls were on TV here. You were at the PBR on television. Yeah, here you have a bulls rank pen.

Each has a particular manner of bucking. Like Achy Breaky, right there’s this red and white Bradford? A nice little bull. He lunges, feet out so far. And then there’s Skywalker? He receives air. He’s getting air. It just stretches out and extends as it walks in the air, as it rushes out, with its front feet on the air. It’s up to the bull.

Stay on the Back

You have to do something more or less, only what you have to do whatever he does this second. I’m with you, hey, bull, my hips are square with your shoulders and my shoulders square with my hips. Just a direct line. Due to the 75% balance of the Bull riding. Basically. It’s going to have to feel that. Because, well, because it is. That’s it. 99% feel like Bull riding.” 

He has his jacket on—his wedding jacket. Brown fits his chaps. It’s brown what’s straightforward in comparison, at least. There are lads in this house wearing brilliant blue chaps, decorated in dazzling red with stars and stripes. Some lads with lovely chaps here than Liberace or perhaps Elvis, all shimmer and glitter and pink and purple, you would suppose. Chabs which declare, in letters as large as a thighbone, praise to god. Chaps are saying, Jesus, riding.

However, the chaps of Billy are straightforward. Buckskin-brown with a faint marine-blue accent of design. He has his shirts in it, a white hat just like the 1987 Lane Frost World Champion who was murdered by Taking Care of Business in 1989, with a turkey feather in it. However, Billy was never, well, murdered. A few fractured bones and one or two hours or two unconscious were the worst things ever to happen to Billy. What’s an entirely another tale. 

Bull Riding

He is ready to ride; he is prepared to ride. His bottom lip holds a lovely Copenhagen wade, draped above the style. Bulls watch. Spitting. Bulls watch. Spitting. Throughout the day, he may spit and see bulls. He does many days. 

“You saw the donor of the organ? That tiny brindle with a white face right there? He is wild. He will get that high and roll over either side. And the black bull, the CX-101. That tiny bull. Oh, CX-101, I love it. They are all CX-ers. But 101, I would say it’s bucking bulls’ significance. No tricks. No tricks. Do not become snappy. His head doesn’t sling. He bucks only.

He only jerks when the door opens. In eight seconds, he can perform just five leaps. In the air, he’s up to every jump from the ground. But you never know. You never know. You’re coming to a performance; you’re drawing a bull. That is why you never know. You never know that. Due to the 90 percent luck of bull riding. You have the bull to ride. Jump for jumping. Jump for jumping. Hang your legs on. Hang on. Bull’s ride is 75% legs. “