Marvin drew “Try Me” in the
fourth round at the National Finals Rodeo 1989. He marked her out and
hung the steel to’er like the rods on a Union Pacific driver! “Try Me”
jumped the track! She slid, slipped and rolled around inside her skin!
She punched holes in the arena dirt!
Somewhere in the last 2
seconds, Marvin reached his limit. Everything in his firebox —
experience, intuition, talent and training — were at full throttle and
blowin’ blue smoke! It was then, over the din of 15,000 rabid fans,
Marvin reached down inside himself, I heard him whisper, “Yer mine.”
The hair stood up on the back
of my neck. The buckin’ horse went down! From where I sat 60 rows up, it
looked like Marvin’s shoulders actually hit the ground. His legs
pistoned; the horse exploded; she climbed out of that hold with Marvin
stuck to’er like a remora on a shark’s belly.
I don’t believe you could’a cut Marvin loose with an acetylene torch.
The whistle blew. The crowd
went wild. Marvin tipped his hat. But if you’d touched him at that
moment it would’a been like layin’ your hand on an electric motor. He
was hummin’!
No comments:
Post a Comment