News and Opinion from Sisters, Oregon
News and Opinion from Sisters, Oregon
Don't call them clowns. Rodeo bullfighters are stars in their own right, and have one of the most demanding jobs in the sport.
They're as athletic as the cowboys they protect. They're as entertaining to watch as anything in the arena. Just don't call them clowns.
Rob Smets and Rowdy Barry are Sisters Rodeo's bullfighters, in town June 9-11 with one mission: to get between 1,000 pounds of aggressive bull and 160 pounds of dismounted bull rider.
"A bullfighter's first job is to protect the bull rider," Smets said. "Most of the time by providing yourself as a better target than the bull rider."
Life as a target has been pretty good to Smets -- he's won the Wrangler Pro Rodeo world title as a bullfighter five times. Fighting bulls for the glory comes after protecting riders -- but its every bit as serious and maybe even riskier.
In the bullfighter's event he's matched against a quality fighting bull for 70 seconds of tag in the arena.
Judges score based on how aggressively the bull takes after the bullfighter and how well the bullfighter harries his foe. A season's accumulation of points can put the bull fighter in the arena at the National Finals Rodeo.
Smets is respected from California to Florida as a top professional. He was featured on a Discovery Channel broadcast as a kind of cowboy gladiator in cleats, make-up and a beat up hat.
He's paid a price. They don't call him "Kamakaze" for nothing. Smets has had his neck broken twice and has taken as many solid hits as a pro boxer.
In fact, Smets sees quite a few parallels between bullfighting and the sweet science.
"You need to stay in good shape. It's a lot like the boxing business," he said. "The fear is like (it is for) a boxer, too. You've got to turn that fear into respect. And, like boxing, no matter how good you are, you are going to get hit."
The Sisters crowd got to see Smets take one of his worst licks.
"(A bull) stepped on my head right there in Sisters," Smets recalled. "They packed me out of the arena and put 160 stitches down the right side of my head.
"That was the day I was supposed to meet (Hall of Fame quarterback) Dan Fouts," he noted ruefully.
Fouts, a Sisters resident, ended up visiting Smets while the bull fighter was laid out on a gurney.
Despite it being the scene of his nasty wreck, Smets likes coming to the Sisters Rodeo. He's been featured at the "Biggest Little Show in the World" for some 14 years.
Smets spent a summer in Sisters a few years back, staging a series of 10 rodeos. He said he's always kicked himself for not keeping that up.
"I love the facility," he said. "It's a coming home week for me. I've made a lot of friends there."
Like Smets, Rowdy Barry has been coming to the Sisters Rodeo for years.
"It's one of my favorites in the Northwest -- in fact, it's one of my favorites all over," Barry said.
The bullfighter said he loves the Sisters crowd's energy, which always seems to pump up the action.
Action is what pushed Barry into bullfighting 15 years ago. He tried various rodeo events, looking for one that matched his appetite.
"I was always looking for something a little more exciting," he said.
He found jumping in front of bucking bulls all afternoon more fun than riding them.
"Instead of eight seconds of adrenaline, I get 30 to 50 minutes of it," he said.
Though he hasn't been as badly beat up as Smets, Barry has suffered his share of broken bones and smashed up ribs. None of his injuries made him want to hang up his cleats.
"If you have to sit out at all, you're craving to come back," he said. "It's kind of, 'Put me in, coach!'"
Like Smets, Barry is respected as a top hand in his profession.
Working the National Finals Rodeo, where bull riders pick the men they want protecting them, is the clearest mark of distinction there is in this line of work. Barry's been there plenty of times.
"That's the highest degree as a protection bull fighter that we can achieve," he said.
Barry is distinctive in the arena -- he was the first to break the tradition of wearing make-up and baggy pants. Barry figures he's an athlete and should look like one. No make-up, no costume. No mistaking him for a clown.
"I never started out in this to be a clown," he said. "I started out to fight bulls."
Smets echoes those sentiments. The rodeo clown has his own job to do and you won't catch either Barry or Smets trying to horn in -- though Smets has been known to help out with an intermission act if asked.
Barry and Smets have been working together consistently since the 1980s.
"For us to work together, everything kind of flows together really easily," Barry said.
Things may be smooth, but in rodeo, there's always an element of unpredictability.
Smets recalls a Sisters Rodeo that featured Cuddles, perhaps the most dangerous bull ever brought to Sisters.
One year, during a night-time performance, the arena lights went out just as the bull rider gave the nod and the chute gate swung open.
For a long eight seconds, the cowboy was riding blind and Smets was trying to keep track of a real big, real mean, real fast bull that he couldn't really see.
Everything turned out okay -- and Cuddles is now mounted on the Sisters Rodeo Clubhouse wall.
When Smets is off the rodeo circuit, he raises roping cattle on an 800-acre spread in Shamrock, Texas. Barry is in the cattle business, too, in Kennewick, Washington.
But retiring back to the ranch doesn't seem to be much on the mind of either bullfighter. After all, they're doing something important, saving bull riders from getting gored, slammed and stomped -- and they've got the best seat in the house for all the action.
As Smets said, "What more can you ask for on a Saturday night?"
Jim Cornelius is editor in chief of The Nugget and author of “Warriors of the Wildlands: True Tales of the Frontier Partisans.” A history buff, he explores frontier history across three centuries and several continents on his podcast, The Frontier Partisans. For more information visit www.frontierpartisans.com.
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