Bucking tradition

By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

Clown Patrick Ching, who calls himself a "bull target," distracts a bull at New Town & Country Stables in WaimŒnalo, site of the 4th of July All Star Rodeo. Photos by Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

Tyson Hancock of Pearl Harbor rides a bull during practices at Town and Country Stables in Waimanalo.

4th of July All Star Rodeo New Town & Country Stables (41-1800 Kalaniana'ole Highway) 3 p.m. today and tomorrow (gates open at 1 p.m.) $10 in advance; $13 today and tomorrow; $5 for 3- to 10-year-olds. Available at Naturally Hawaiian Art Gallery in WaimŒnalo, The Shack restaurants, military outlets and other locations. 259-5354

DeRosa's left arm is in a sling, the result of a two-second ride on a 2,000-pound bull and a nanosecond impact with hard Waimanalo earth. The initial diagnosis is a dislocated elbow — "The bone was totally turned out," he says proudly — but DeRosa wants to stick around to see the rest of the rides.

"I may go to a doctor in a couple of days if it still hurts," he says.

The accident means there will be one less rider at the 4th of July All Star Rodeo at New Town & Country Stables.

The event takes place today and Saturday, with a full schedule of rodeo events, a country dance contest, pony rides, stick-pony races, a clown dress-up dance and "cowboy hula bull."

In preparation, DeRosa and a dozen other riders have gathered at Bud Gibson's New Town & Country Stables hoping to get a feel (however painful) for Gibson's renowned bred-to-buck bulls.

An occasional grimace is the only indication that DeRosa feels anything but the residual adrenaline coursing in his bloodstream. His wasn't a great ride, he readily admits, but he managed to walk away.

DeRosa grew up in Liberty Hill, Texas, and never seriously considered getting on a bull until a year and a half ago, when some buddies at Fort Hood, where he was stationed, talked him into it.

When he arrived in Hawai'i six months ago, DeRosa figured he'd have to put his new hobby on the shelf. He didn't even bother to bring his rodeo gear.

"It really surprised me when I found out there was rodeo out here," he says, smiling. "I had to go out and buy all new gear."

In fact, as DeRosa has learned, Hawai'i has a long, proud tradition of rodeo, dating back well beyond 100 years. And while full-scale rodeo events all but disappeared on O'ahu in the mid-1990s, last year's 4th of July All Star Rodeo, which attracted 4,500 fans, seemed to be a strong indication that there was enough interest here for a revival, sponsors willing.

The riders who have come for the "buckout" are mostly military, with a few locals in the mix. Patrick Ching, one of the rodeo organizers, says military people make up about a third of the 200 or so people who participate in rodeos in Hawai'i.

"They usually (ride bulls), because they aren't here long term and they don't usually have the opportunity or the space to own horses," Ching says.

Outside of rodeos, local cowboys and cowgirls have plenty of opportunities to show their skills. DK Ranch in WaimŒnalo, Gunstock Ranch in Kahuku, Parker Ranch on the Big Island and several others host regular riding and roping events.

The Hawai'i High School Rodeo Association also has developed the state's young rodeo talent. Juddsen Napier, who took top honors at last month's 16th Annual HHSRA State Finals Rodeo, is one of two teenage riders on hand at the buckout.

"Rodeo is growing because a lot of little kids come out — their families are ranchers, probably — and they're seeing what they want to do and who they want to copy," Napier says.

He comes from a family of devoted rodeo enthusiasts. That means there's no end to the advice he gets about riding bulls.

"My uncles tell me to just look down at my rope," he says. "If you look to the side, that's where you're going to go. What you want to do is stay centered and follow the bull jump for jump."

The other teen at the event is Kepa Alameda of Wai'anae. The lanky 16-year-old is a motorcycle enthusiast who caught the rodeo bug from his uncle on the Big Island. His father, Joe, doesn't mind his son opting for a riskier ride — as long as he takes the proper precautions.

"I do all the rigging and preparations myself," Joe Alameda says. "I make sure he has all the safety equipment."

That includes a vest lined with bulletproof Kevlar, something many riders started wearing after world champion rider Lane Frost was gored to death in 1989. Unlike the other riders, Kepa Alameda also wears a protective helmet equipped with a face mask.

The riders have the added protection of a couple of experienced rodeo clowns, Ching and Josh Rees. A more fitting job description, says Ching, 41, is "bull targets."

When DeRosa was thrown from his bull, it was Ching and Rees who drew the bull's attention away and lured the beast toward the exit chute.

Round after round, it's Ching and Rees who go eye to eye with the massive athletic animals, feinting like Muhammad Ali, zig-zagging like Allen Iverson and scaling fences like Spider-Man.

"The natural instinct is to run away from danger," says Ching, an artist and owner of Naturally Hawaiian Art Gallery in WaimŒnalo. "But we're trained to run toward danger, and to me that feels good."

Ching has been involved with rodeo for 13 years, and he knows what it's like to straddle one of Gibson's muscle-bound bulls.

The first time he rode a bull, "it went by so quickly I can't remember a thing," he says. "But as you get more experience, your mind kind of slows things down. You condition yourself to divide one second into a lot of sections."

Jason DeLong, 23, knows the feeling. He's logged one of the longest rides of the night, about half of it up against the fence.

"It felt like an eternity," DeLong says. "We went out and stalled there (at the fence) and I was trying to get back over him when he spun left away from the fence. I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but luckily he went left."

So DeLong was thrown into the air and onto the ground instead of getting posterized, literally, along the unforgiving fence.

"At least I didn't land on my head," DeLong says cheerily. "I have a reputation for landing on my head."