Mutton Bustin’ event leaves some sheepish
Meredith Stockholm was supposed to have the ride of her life Wednesday. The announcer at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo whipped the crowd into a boot-stomping frenzy. As he introduced Meredith, the cheers crescendoed in the white-topped tent near the carnival.
Strapped into a sturdy black helmet and zipped into a padded black vest, Meredith should have been ready. But she wasn’t. She was worse than not ready; the 5-year-old Cypress resident was scared, maybe too scared to go through with it.
Adult volunteers at the mutton-bustin’ event did their best to encourage the would-be cowgirl in a flowery pink button-down
shirt, but it was no use. Mercifully, the announcer picked up his microphone and came to her rescue: “She’s gonna take her time,” he boomed. “Recollect her thoughts.”
The volunteers, members of a 410-person committee that’s run the event since 2010, gingerly lifted Meredith from her mount, a sheep with a good six inches of scratchy wool. It was as cuddly as ahandful of fiberglass insulation.
So much for Meredith’s big ride, the highly anticipated highlight of her first-ever rodeo. When her parents had told her about the event, she had seemed eager. “Wait ,” she had asked her mom ,“I get to ride a sheep?”
And it wasn’t just her hopes riding on this ride. Her mom and dad had long looked forward to this day.
“As soon as we had kids,” said Lauren, a police officer, “we were like, we have to do this.” Mark, a paramedic, rode bulls at small Texas rodeos for two years back in highschool.
They had thought Meredith was up to the task. Their oldest child, she’d launched herself down tall slides at age 1. She transitioned to a two-wheel bike at age 3. The toes of her cowgirl boots are worn down because she likes to drag them on the ground instead of using the brakes. “She’s fearless,” her mom said. But, it turned out, the 3½-foottall daredevil had at least one fear: clinging to a bucking animal as it streaks across a hard dirt floor in frontof 150spectators. The sheep, it turned out, made her sheepish.
The volunteers loaded the next rider on to the mount that should have been Meredith’s.
Every other kid went through with it. Zoe, clinging to a steed named “Sheeping Beauty,” held onfor abou ttwo seconds, earning a respectable score of 80. Another girl — one who the announcer said loves hot dogs and wants to be a soldier — had her run on “Asheep at the Wheel.”
The adult volunteers come up with the punny names: “Sheepshank Redemption ,” “Lambborghini ,” “Rambo ,” “Mutton but Trouble.” The nicknamed sheep, one suspects, don’t have the same moniker every go-around.
In fact, according to Mutton Bustin’ Committee Vice Chairman Keith Letsos, the sheep are rotated out every other day. A livestock company swaps in alternates from a pool of nearly 400 sheep, making sure the animals aren’t over-exercised. The company also does sonograms to catch pregnant sheep and prevent an unplanned live birthing demonstration. (Oneof those, avolunteer said, happened a few years backin the middle of a ride.)
Midway through the round, a boy from Hamburg, Germany, gripped his mount like a baby orangutan clinging to its mother. One second passed, and there was no thunk in dust. Two seconds passed, and still he stayed on. Three seconds passed — he had not budged.
The rodeo clown plucked the boy from the sheep’s back before they hit the wall on the opposite side of the pitch. “Niiiinety-fiiiive,” came the announcer’s drawn-out whoop. “That translates into any language!”
After 15 or 20 contestants, it was time to crown a champion; 5-year-olds can be patient only so long. Then, at the gate, a commotion.
It was a small figure with pink sleeves poking out from a padded black vest.
The volunteers had seen just about everything imaginable, since the committee welcomes more than 3,000 riders a year. The yhad seen contestants balk at the last minute before. Precious few ever got backon the sheep. But Meredith did. One of the adults held a sheep in place with his legs; volunteer raised Meredith into the air and, like a construction crane lowering its cargo, plopped her down atop her steed. She must have dug her fingers into the wool, but not very firmly.
The crowd, thrilled by this comeback, cheered the little girl on. The gate opened. The sheep streaked toward the opposite side of the pitch. Meredith held on — butnot too long.
Her ride lasted about 1 second before the wool slipped from her grip and she slid the short distance to the dirt, like a coffee cup falling from the top of a car that drives away prematurely. Her score, amodest 73, didn’t rival the German wu nd er kin d’ s. But she’d gotten back on the sheep.
After the prize ceremony, Meredith ran into her father’s arms and burst into tears. Her 2-yearold brother toddled over, apparently less interested in comforting his big sister than in checking her prize bag for candy.
Were you scared? Meredith was asked. Yes, she nodded. Are you glad you did it? Yes, she nodded. She buried her face in a nest of celebratory cotton candy. And beamed.