As a kid growing up I would pretend to be the best in the
world. It didn't matter at what. In baseball season I was Johnny Bench. In
football season I was Bart Starr. Hockey.....Bobby Orr. Basketball.....Dr J. When
we played cowboys and Indians I was Roy Rogers. It made no difference what the
process was or the requirements were to claim to be the best. You just
instantly are. There's magic in totally committing to the moment, believing in
the perception, acting as if you are the hero and having a well rehearsed
imagination.
Imagine. It's the Super Bowl. We're
down by four points. Ten seconds left .Fifty yards out. My receiver is
streaking down the center of the field, four defenders running step for step
with him. Five, four, I dodge to avoid a sack then run to my right buying time.
Three, two, the crowd is screaming, I plant my feet and heave the ball as hard
as I can. One, the receiver jumps in the air and catches the perfect pass.
Zero! He comes down in the end zone. There is pandemonium in the stadium. Touchdown!
Packers win!!! Of course the pass rushers were my dogs, the receiver was a tire
hanging in the tree and the defenders were the branches.
I was fortunate to
have heroes on horses as well. The universe so perfectly aligned itself for me
growing up that I was able to have training legends as my inspiration, and my
teachers as well. I grew up western so my teacher's desks had saddle horns. The
class rooms were dusty, muddy, sweaty, and smelled of hair, leather and organic
fertilizer. A point, a nod, a shake, a fist, a grimace, and occasionally a
smile were your grades. These men had proven how to do it against others and
won. To me they were warriors who actually went in the arena and rode out
victorious. They had a magical way with horses, and themselves. They wore big
buckles and I wanted them too.
Imagine.
The World Championship is on the line. It would take a record breaking run to
win the calf roping. Roy Cooper has a world record time of 6.6 and is winning.
I back my horse into the box. Both horse and I are focused on the calf in the
chute. When all is
perfect I nod my head. I hear the clang of the gate as I
jump my horse into a full out run. The calf breaks into the arena just ahead of
me. One swing of my rope and throw it. I pull the slack and step off as my
horse buries into a deep stop. As if by magic the calf swings around and
settles into my lap. I turn him over and have him strung before he hits the
ground. I finish with one wrap and a hooey; throw my hands in the air. The
stands erupt and hats are thrown high into the air as the time on the clock
stops at 6.5. Of course my horse is a saddle tree, the calf is a bale of hay,
and my tie is done on a box my Dad built with three wooden legs on springs.
When you're young,
buckles are a shield to those who have one. The bigger the buckle, the bigger
the shield. A shield against doubt, fear, worry, and criticism. They are a
symbol to all others that time was spent in a worthy cause. Risk was challenged
and defeated. They knew what victory felt like. They are also a diploma that
hangs from a belt rather than the wall. Proof that you have an answer. Buckles
aren't just given away to whoever wants or studies long enough to get one. They're
earned under fire. Right answer at the right time, one at a time, once a year.
To some they represent victory over others. To others they represent a rare
harmony developed in the dirt between man and horse. They symbolize the triumph
of high achievement. For still others, they are a target.
Imagine.
It's the finals of the National Reining Horse Association Futurity. The biggest
prize in all of reining. It's the first time the winner will receive a
guaranteed check for $100,000. The number one rider in the sport, Bill Horn,
has just gone and is leading with a huge score of 227 on one of the most
amazing mares of all time. I've drawn up last. I make my way from the warm up
arena to the coliseum riding past Bill and what appears like hundreds of people
shaking his hand and congratulating him. An odd smile comes on my face as I
step into the pen and they close the gate behind me. I lope my horse off and
hold on with a tight rein, steering in a fast circle then pull to slow him down.
The coliseum erupts with approval of the effort. He then spins swiftly, hopping
as fast as he can as the crowd booms a thunderous applause.. We run free and
fast to each of his stops and he slides long distances. One stop to go and the
packed house of over 4000 are cheering me on as I round the corner. I say
"whoa" and the audience screams their approval as my horse nails the final long
slide, back feet together and front end in the air, then backs swiftly while I
pull as hard as I can. The score comes in a 228! The audience jumps to their
feet in ovation as I tip my hat and the horse jigs out of the arena.
This time it's
real. The horse is Lucky Bay Glo. The arena is in Columbus, Ohio
and I did win my first NRHA futurity. A personally memorable ride.
Though I have
earned many buckles and prizes since, I still wear that one. To me it
represents a connection to my heroes. A short list of men who can hang that
diploma from their belt. It also represents a validation of those who helped me,
those who trusted me with good horses and horses who gave their heart and mind
to a worthy cause.. I also wear that particular buckle because it reminds me of
a time when I trained for perfect reasons. Love of the horse, the sport, and
the purity of the connection. Though that buckle is a bit faded, I admit that
it carries more shine than many that I have won since. Some were achieved for
less pure reasons to the credit of some truly forgiving horses. I have learned
so much ...... with so far yet to go.
Imagine.
It is a weekend show several hundred
miles from home. There are just a handful of people in the arena watching as
most are at the pizza party. Reining has come a long way over the years and
nearly all who compete are on good horses and are well trained. Many nice
patterns have already been performed. My
horse runs fast circles on a loose rein; the horse maintains focus and
responsibility as he slows down without any obvious cue. His turns are fast and
correct with rhythm and effort, then shuts off at exactly the right spot and
stands motionless. He then runs free and relaxed to his stops and steps into
the ground each time for a deep slide with his hocks on the ground, his front
end loose, back rounded and confidence in his eyes. Two people whistle. He
finishes the run by backing with speed perfectly straight, neck relaxed and
chin soft on two feet of slack with my rein hand down not pulling at all. Two more
whistles plus the customary courteous claps later, the score is announced as he
walks out calmly.
This is also real and two decades removed from
Columbus. It
was why I began training. For love of the horse, the sport, and the connection.
Back to the basics of discovering how confident and trusting I could teach a
horse to be while responding to the slightest cues with absolutely no
resistance. Smoothness, finesse, attitude and quickness coming together like a
beautiful dance. No ovation, no buckle. In fact I finished third. There was
however, great enthusiasm. It was the run that edged me past a million in earnings.
Another remembered ride. By the way, the whistles were from my wife and
daughter.
Victories come in a
variety of different packages.
My opinion:
Let's not be too
quick to criticize the games people play on their horses and how they are
trained. Perhaps the doer could have done it better. There is a line in the
sand when it comes to respectful development. It's never about how much they
(horses) can take, but about how much they can do. Without a doubt lines get
crossed, and always have. At times, it is only by reaching the line that we
discover where it is in the first place. Experience by experimentation. There
is no effort without error. That's how a better way evolves. Fairness and
integrity to the horse are to be of utmost importance to anyone and should
never be forsaken. I was taught that from a young age by true champions.
They who are actually in the arena and who
love the horse are defending us from the minority of those who don't. Take the
horses out of training from those who fall victim to the pressure if you want
and send them to someone who cares. They are many and they need the business. The others will change out of need or go away.
And let the owners who want it done no matter what, learn how to accept the
true value and purpose of the horse....... or buy a boat instead.
Finally, there is
truly only one critic who counts, the one who determines how the events are placed.
Those we call.... judge. Every trend that has come and gone has been a direct
result of what it appears that they want. Change what wins and you'll change
what's done. The judges write the
checks.
Let it Rein,
Craig
