Day Two
“Las Vegas,” the announcer’s voice rolled like gospel through the rafters, “the moment has arrived to meet the world’s top bull riders. Let’s show these men just how much we adore them.”
The crowd answered with a roar that rattled the bones, twenty-thousand strong rising as beams of light cut and spun across the dirt. The whole thing felt like a rock concert crossed with a Sunday revival—pyro snapping, smoke curling, the dirt floor trembling under the thump of music.
Sparks burst as the first rider strode out, each man announced in order of rank, the lower men first, climbing steadily toward the top. AC/DC’s Back in Black rattled the walls as cowboys stepped through a curtain of flame into the open, threading their way past the burning PBR emblem carved into the dirt like some f
