Mom wanted me to rope. I wanted to ride bulls. She figured if I got slammed on a bull that would end it.
I was in eighth grade when she finally let me pull the trigger. I drew this mottle-faced two-year-old, rode halfway down the pen and fell off. It was the coolest thing ever. Looking back, I bet the sumbitch just oinked around.
I didn't get hurt, so Mom was like, Whatever. You can get on another one. This white muley thumped my ass. He put me in la-la land. I thought, Now THAT was the coolest thing ever. Mom was like, Oh shit.
After that she wouldn't let me ride bulls. Said it would ruin my chance at a football scholarship.
I got the scholarship but ditched it to ride bulls. Nothing clicked.
Until I found bullfighting.