Some wise old bird once said that variety is the spice of
life. If that’s true, these past few days have been very spicy indeed. I
started at the Livermore Rodeo, billed as the ‘world’s fastest’ and segued into La Traviata with the San Francisco Opera. Both entertaining, both showcasing people at the top of their game, but
it would be difficult to imagine two more contrasting events.
Yee-ha!
As some of you may have gathered, I’m happiest on
horseback, and after a lifetime of riding English style, have fallen in love
with Western riding. It’s a wonderfully economic, effective way of going,
especially when you’re aboard a well-trained quarter horse. They are
unbelievably athletic and responsive, polo pony and Grand Prix dressage horse wrapped up in a neat-hooved,
bright-eyed bundle of energy. A good cow pony will stand quietly as cattle
rampage around him, then spring into action to rope a rampaging bronco, jink
and turn to cut out a single steer from a herd and not move a muscle as his rider leaps off to tackle a calf. Aboard a friend’s young quarter horse
recently, I learnt to spin, spur on the girth, reins against the neck, and
ended up feeling dizzy and exhilarated – and wondering how the horse didn’t
fall over with giddiness! I have tremendous admiration for them and the cowboys
who make it all look so easy, so I settled in at the annual Livermore Rodeo in
high excitement.
Me and Tomahawk - dizzy but exhilarated
First up was the town parade, with gleaming cars,
flamboyant costumes and glittering horses – and I mean actually glittering.
It’s de rigeur here to have horses’ hooves painted in coloured glitter and
their rumps dusted with glitter, for all the world like teenage girls at a
disco. I’d love to see the expression on my old Pony Club instructor's face if I turned
up like that! More classically splendid were the Mexicans with their
silver-embossed saddles and wide-brimmed sombreros, their horses’ manes
sweeping their high-stepping knees. Harley Davidsons roared past, vintage fire
engines rumbled through, the Wells Fargo stage coach evoked the hair-raising
journeys of 100 years ago and endless high school bands and cheerleaders
whooped to the crowds. There was a strong military presence, which reminded me
of the solemn pageantry of Trooping the Colour, held on the same day back in
London. The huge black horses of the Household Cavalry would have made a
striking contrast with the palominos of the local sheriff’s posse!
Miss Livermore Rodeo, sporting pink for breast cancer care,
the admirable cause supported by the 2014 rodeo
Yes, those hooves are painted in red glitter.
The Sheriff's posse aboard their beautiful palominos
King of the rodeo? A particularly regal Mexican rider
All he needs is a wide-open desert and a setting sun!
Bringing the fiesta to the rodeo
Horsepower of a different kind
Those were the days: a Wells Fargo stagecoach
It wouldn’t be a proper American day out without a
gigantic plate of curly fries, but the foot-long double-plateful defeated even
the five of us that made up our party. My tri-tip steak sandwich was tender,
and the giant glass of lemon-lime crushed ice was just the thing for the
sweltering temperatures. We were lucky: it was only about 90˚F instead of the
104˚F it was last year. Seats in the shade were a godsend, but even better was
the stand displaying huge fans that blow chilled water vapour. They’re used for
cow barns, sporting events, summer parties and so on, a brilliant idea. But the
heat never slowed down the action, and as soon as the Stars and Stripes had
been displayed to the full, heads bared for the national anthem and the
obligatory prayer said, things kicked off at a furious pace.
Just a wee flag to open proceedings
Me and Scott, getting in the mood. It felt good to wear my cowboy hat again!
First up was the bareback bronco riding, when cowboys
attempt to stay on a madly bucking horse for eight seconds with nothing but a
strap round the horse’s middle to hold onto. As the programme laconically puts
it: ‘Muscles are stretched to the limit, joints are pulled and pounded
mercilessly, and ligaments are strained and frequently rearranged.’ The horses
are powerful, athletic and determined, and of surprising quality. One black
displayed the most beautiful floating trotting action – once he’d got rid of
his rider, that is. I hadn’t realized that it’s about more than just hanging
on, but about technique, the position of the rider’s legs. He should start with
both spurs touching the horse’s shoulders, pull his knees up as the horse bucks
and straighten them when the horse lands. Also surprisingly technical is the
saddle bronc event, which evolved from breaking wild horses for ranchwork in
the Old West. The cowboy holds onto a thick rein attached to the horse’s halter
and is disqualified if he touches any part of his or the horse’s body with his
free hand. His spurring action, control of the horse and fluidity are judged
and extra points are given, in all bronco events, for the wildness of the ride.
The wilder the better!
Up we go!
Eight seconds? Easy!
I believe the phrase is: 'showing a clean pair of heels'
Echoing a technique needed on the range for securing a
calf for branding or medical treatment, the tie-down roping event involves the
cowboy chasing a calf into the ring, after it’s been given a head start, roping
it and leaping off his horse, throwing the calf onto its side (flanking) and
tying its legs together. Meanwhile, the horse must stop still and pull back on
the rope just enough to take up the slack. It’s a wonderful synergy of man and
beast and astonishingly fast. Even faster is the steer wrestling, in which a
cowboy, called a bulldogger, must throw himself off his horse and onto a steer,
wrestling it to the ground with its horns. It ends only when the steer is on
the ground with all four feet pointing in the same direction, and given that
the steer is generally going at full gallop when contact is made and weighs an
awful lot more than the cowboy, it’s even harder than it sounds. The cattle are
bred for this event, so know exactly what’s going to happen and give as good as
they get. Another cowboy, called a ‘hazer’, gallops alongside the steer to keep
it from veering away from the bulldogger, but many was the time that the steer
evaded capture and charged off, tail in the air. The world record for steer
wrestling is, astonishingly, just 2.4 seconds.
Team roping - one cowboy must rope the head, the other both hind feet
Success! Two cowboys complete a task that is even harder than it sounds
Got him! Wresting a steer to the floor
Barrel racing is the female competition, when cowgirls charge
flat out around three barrels and gallop to the finish, legs pistoning. The key
is to turn as tightly as possible around the barrels, thus taking the shortest
route possible, but without tripping over. The horses know exactly what to do
and the speeds are terrific. Girls also get a chance to shine carrying
sponsors’ flags, opening the rodeo with a smoothly executed formation ride of
circles and loops. The bearer of the American flag gets the biggest hand, of
course, walking, trotting, then galloping full pelt around the arena with the
stars and stripes flying and sequins glittering. Oh, and the Riata Riders gave
a fantastic display of trick riding, standing up in the saddle and even
displaying a bit of horseback yoga. Men and women may not compete on equal
terms here, but no one’s complaining. Cowboys are the toughest people around,
and there aren’t many men who can do what they do, let alone women. I couldn’t
help thinking of the football World Cup, which I’m currently trying to ignore,
and the way footballers tend to burst into tears at the slightest touch. They
wouldn’t last two minutes at a rodeo!
Yoga on horseback, as you do
Barrel racing. An impressive lean, but ideally she would need
to be closer to the barrel for a really fast time
Flat out to the finish
A musical ride rodeo style
Supporting an admirable cause, the banner reads:
'Are you tough enough to wear pink?'
It turns out that cowboys sure are!
The maddest event of all has to be the wild cow milking.
A cow trots in, followed by a cowboy on horseback, who ropes the cow. Another
cowboy, on foot, dashes over to the cow and grabs her around the head, holding
her still while the mounted cowboy leaps off his horse and milks the cow,
running to the finish line with the precious white liquid in a bottle. All this
must be accomplished while a big, strong cow does her best to drag the cowboys
in the dirt and buck away from any attempt at milking! It was hilarious, and
utterly bonkers.
As one cowboy holds the cow as still as possible, the other leaps
of his horse and dashes over with a bottle
Not today thank you! A stubborn cow shows who's in charge
The last event is the most dangerous of all. Bull riding,
‘intentionally climbing on the back of a 2,000-pound bull, emerged from the
fearless and possibly foolhardy nature of the cowboy’, as the programme notes
in an understated fashion. It’s not so much about technique, more about hanging on. It demands tremendous nerve and courage to settle yourself on
the back of a raging mass of muscle, wrap your hand in the rope around its
chest and nod your head to the man on the gate. Because when that gate opens,
the bull will explode into the arena, bucking and spinning and kicking and
darting with incredible speed. Once the rider is on the ground, it will more
often than not take a potshot at the floored cowboy with its horns, which is
why colourfully dressed rodeo clowns dance into view to distract it. All the cowboys
involved become particularly adept at leaping up railings. Impervious to ropes
and circling horses, the massive bulls command the utmost respect. One thing’s
for sure, you wouldn’t catch me trying my luck!
Getting ready inside the pen...
Round and round we go: a bull turns into a spinning top
Making a dash for it!
The pick-up riders trying to drive a recalcitrant bull back to the corral
Ride 'em cowboy! (It had to be said)
The closest La
Traviata came to the rodeo was with the third-act dance from a Spanish
matador, superbly performed by Timo Nuñez. His intensity certainly matched the
cowboys’ determination, and the stamping swirl of his performance was a welcome
moment of levity in the tragic tale. Giuseppe Verdi’s famous opera of 1853 was
intended to be contemporary and daring, portraying sexual prejudices and issues
of social class in the clothes of the day. Ironically, the Venetian censors
forced him to shift the period back 150 years or so to prevent the opera giving
offence; by the time it was performed in the costumes of the date it was
written, they were already historical. But La
Traviata’s enduring popularity proves that it transcends such concerns,
dealing as it does with timeless and eternal concerns of love, sickness,
poverty and alienation. The music is wonderful, and the whole was performed
beautifully by the San Francisco Opera company, with the 2005 winner of the BBC
Singer of the World competition Nicole Cabell as Violetta. I tend to prefer
male voices, so, for me, Stephen Costello as Alfredo and Vladimir Stoyanov as
Alfredo’s father stood out. I am a relative novice when it comes to opera, and
I sometimes had to hide a smile at the thought that it’s the people who aren’t
singing who have the hardest job because they have to react to the same line a
dozen times. But such thoughts are unworthy, and after this sumptuously
produced La Traviata , I hope to
listen to many more people sing ‘the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to
love and be loved in return’ in a thousand soaring cadenzes.
The gorgeous Art Nouveau programme of the San Francisco Opera's La Traviata
City Hall, opposite the opera house on the cultural corridor of San Francisco
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