Pro Bull Riders vs Pacific Northwest Ballet

By weeklyvolcano on March 18, 2007

I thought my daughter and I would enjoy quite possibly two of the most disparate activities in existence today, starting with a much anticipated trip to the Pro Bull Riders finals in the Tacoma Dome, followed by a road trip to that city up north to see Pacific Northwest Ballet’s “Hansel and Gretel” (one of a select few events that could get me to make that particular trek.)

As it turns out, the two entertainments aren’t that different, after all.  Both involve elaborate costuming, athletic skill, and a passion for the discipline. 

But then when you consider the costuming of the ballet (tu-us) versus the bull riders (chaps); the athletic skill for ballet (finesse and grace in time with the music) versus the bull riders (finesse and grace atop a thousand pound ball of muscles and meanness) and you’re pretty much left with the two events having passion in common.

Both were events worthy of passion.  The Professional Bull Riding showed the adrenaline infused insanity of the riders â€" Early in the day, Brian Canter’s rope hand stayed tied to the bull as he was attached to it; as the bull bucked, hopped, kicked, and covered a fair amount of ground, the cowboy flailed like a rag doll.

This specific moment cemented my admiration for the bullfighters and other cowboys, as they all worked together to detach the man from the bull.  All I could think was, “ouch.  Rotator cuff.  Ouch, that’ll put dude in some Physical Therapy." Turns out, the event puts dude back in Dallas, in the hands of a surgeon who will fix his fractured ankle.

That was unexpected.

And then there was the moment when Brendon Clark, the Aussie I met at the Gonyea Boys and Girls Club, completed his 8 second ride only to get stomped on the leg by the mammoth bull. Again, my thoughts ran to toward “Ouch.”

“Ouch” didn’t happen in the PNB’s Hansel and Gretel, though.

The fabulous costuming accented the light, breezy grace of the dancers.  Jordan Veit and Colby Lewis, the young lead dancers, enchanted me with their expressiveness and skill, while the wee one was entranced by the toe-shod birds, most notably Michelle Le who impressed me with her strength, energy and grace.  Of course, my highly sophisticated daughter was most impressed by the sparkles on that particular tutu.

Ironically enough, as we recapped the day in the car on the trip home, I asked her which event she liked better.  “Ballet,” she responded in a millisecond; “The bull thing was boring.”

Umm.  Right. 

We might need to work on operative definitions: she fell asleep at the ballet, midway through.  There was no sleeping to be had during the bull riding.

Good times, though, all of ‘em. â€" Jessica Corey-Butler