I've had the chance to live in different cities throughout the Southeast portion of this great land of ours and when people would ask me where I was from, I would say,"Mesquite, Texas!" Of course, it would have to be followed up with," Its a suburb of Dallas." However, I've always loved my little Mesquite even though we get stereotyped on occasions. BUT, if it werent for some of those stereotypes, we wouldnt have any of the great stories to tell people.

The Mesquite Rodeo is something that has been a part of my life, since, well, my entire life. I can count the numerous times I participated in the calf chase and never got the little ribbon off that dang thing. I think it might have been a free jumbo Coke or a bag of popcorn or something as trivial as that. But that was enough to hold my attention span for the 3 minutes that we were out on the dirt.

I do recall one time being out there on the dirt and the calf was released. You can imagine the madness of 100 or so kids under the age of 12 screaming and chasing this little critter all over the place. You've got the big kids that are gung ho about geting the free Coke and the little pip squeak kids that DO NOT want to be out there, crying their eyes out. I was the kid that didnt really care what was going on. I was just kind of out there.

Well, one time, I decided I was gonna get that free goodie! The calf was released. Chase ensued and I was the leader of the pack. The calf made a sudden move to the left and I had eyes on the prey like an eagle on a rodent. My moves were like those of Barry Sanders as I spun around a slower kid and put the brakes on to position myself right in front of that little calf. Things began to slow down, very Matrix like when I begin my triumphant attack towards the calf as he headed to the wall. I am 27 inches away from my glorious free Coke or popcorm. I reach for the tag. Victory is going to sooooo sweet! The tag is 2 inches from my desperate little hands when all of a sudden I am sideswiped by a 6 or 7 year old girl. She takes my legs out from underneath me. I hit the dirt hard, roll over and watch as the calf ran away in slow motion. I stretched my hand out as if to say, "Noooooooooo!!!" Suddenly, as the slow motion faded away and reality kicked back in, I was trampled by the other 99 kids out there on the dirt. I covered my head, rolled up into a ball and hung on for dear life.

Once the trampling was over, I got up, pooched my bottom lip out and stomped my feet in shear disgust as I made my way back over the grandstands. I never got another chance to win that illustrious Coke or popcorn again as I went into hiding over the torment of being taken out by a girl. Actually, we just never went back to the rodeo until my 15th birthday. That time we sat in a suite but thats a completely different story. As you can tell, I am completely over this tragic moment in my life and if I were to ever see or meet the girl that tripped me on the dirt, I would smile, shake her hand and say, "Thanks for ruining my life!"