It is a little after 7 p.m. Friday in Scottsdale, and the Parada Del Sol rodeo announcer offers a prayer for what is about to happen in this arena. An Arizona son bounces from one foot to the other, all nerves and energy. A balled fist.
Some of these bareback riders wear as much padding as a football player β neck pads, elbow pads, knee pads β but this cowboy sports simply a blue floral shirt and light blue jeans with a Native American belt, camel-colored chaps and a thin chinstrap beard. Aside from a rollβs worth of tape up and down his right arm, he might as well be naked of protection.
He tosses on his black vest, No. 294 pinned to the back, and puts his black hat back on, and itβs time. He climbs aboard his horse, ready for his dayβs work.
βThis is a threeee-time, Arizona hiiiigh school state champion,β the announcer shouts, βand a yeaaar ago, he went oonnnn to become a national champion in our sport!β
And heβs off. The dark brown bronco takes him for a ride, left and quick, kicking and bucking, sprinting around the closed arena.
Six seconds, seven seconds, eight seconds, and itβs over, a 72-point ride, nothing special, but heβs survived another day, and thatβs really the job here. Last week alone, he rode in three rodeos: La Fiesta de los Vaqueros, Parada del Sol and Lost Dutchman Days in Apache Junction.Β
His name is Rio Lee, he comes from Tucson and he just might be the next great cowboy.
A good breed
The kidβs got movie-star good looks, a quick wit and a lofty lineage.
Rio is 19 and a freshman at Cochise College in Douglas, where he rides for the rodeo team. For now, at least, because heβs just one big winter away from pushing in his chips.
Every rodeo cowboy is a gambler, particularly on himself β those entry fees donβt pay themselves β and sooner or later the noise, and the prize money, just gets too loud.
Rio is getting good advice, though, from people who know it.
Like so many cowboys these days, Rio comes from generations of ranchers and rodeoers: Son of bareback rider Cody Lee and barrel racer Cindy Tenney, grandson of 40-year rodeo cowboy Jim Tenney of Willcox, great-grandson of Ernest Browning, one of the first cattle ranchers in Arizona.
Rio has been traveling for rodeos with his parents since he was a young boy. He remembers the all-women rodeos that Cindy competed in, the big jackpots that his father won.
When he was 6 or 7, Rio went with Cody to the Turquoise Circuit Finals in Laughlin, Nevada, and he watched his daddy win the whole thing.
βThey called him up and he put me on the fence and said, 'wait here, man,' and he went up and got his saddle, a gear bag, a buckle, a jacket β and thatβs when I got a taste of what being successful in the rodeo could be like,β Lee said. βItβs where I began to understand where I could go.β
And now, it seems, where he is going.
Promise Fulfilled
They saw the potential in him young, both the eagerness and the attentiveness. It wasnβt until junior high that Rio saw it in himself.
In the eighth grade, Rio won the state championship in shootdogging β basically steer wrestling without the horse β and took home a saddle for his efforts. That, he said, βput winning in my blood.β
Soon Rio was aboard horses, and by his sophomore year, he was a state high school championship. He won three of those, and added national honors as a senior, and that convinced him he was ready for his PRCA permit. That was last summer, and since then heβs been entering amateur and professional events, showing well and winning some β including Saturday in Apache Junction. He scored a 78 two Thursdays ago in Tucson Rodeo's first go-round, placing him just outside the qualifying score for the short-go.
The momentum is building.
βA little bit of me wants to make this go as fast as possible and be the best, but it ainβt gonna happen if you try too hard,β he said. βYou have to let things happen for you at their own pace. If itβs happening for you, great, if it ainβt, it ainβt. As it progresses, I progress with it.β
But every successful ride, every improved score, every increasing jackpot brings the prospects of a real professional career that much closer.
How much longer can he hold out?
The spins of the father
Six months ago β maybe three, maybe two β Cody Lee wouldβve been behind the chutes in Scottsdale, or back in Tucson, or over in Apache Junction.
Friday, he sits in the arena and watches, and then comes over well after Rioβs ride. This is a change in the relationship, like tectonic plates slipping. Cody has been Rio's coach for so long, and now heβs sliding back towards dad.
βOh yeah, weβve been butting heads for two years,β Cody says with a hearty laugh.
He just wants it so damn bad for his boy.
Cody is a barrel-chested man, strong and sturdy, with a handshake that feels every bit rodeo cowboy. He was top-35 in the world once, a good-but-not-great bareback rider. A few breaks here, or there, and he mightβve been a star.
βHe was good, man,β Rio says. βHe was top-30. He was a good barebacker; everywhere I go, even today, people remember him and say that he was one hell of a bareback rider. Even though he didnβt win the world or nothing, people have a lot to say about him. That kind of bugs him, because he was good enough.β
It is a thin line at the top, and no one knows that better than Cody Lee. There is some politicking involved, some marketing, a lot of money, too much time and way too much pain.
You get that close, and it hurts. You want that buckle, you bleed for that buckle, and sometimes it never comes, and all you can do is put your hopes and dreams into your son.
βHe has got to surpass the level I was at,β Cody said. βI won fourth at high school nationals one year, and his mom said, βWell, heβs got you beat there,β and I said, βWell, that is the plan.β
βIf his peak was going to be where my peak was, I would be really tentative about pushing him into it.β
The next step
Rio has the pedigree and the ability. He is taking the steps necessary to succeed in a sport in which so few succeed before their backs give out, or are stepped on.
He has his fatherβs eyes and his grit and his motherβs attention to detail and responsibility.
Cindy Welling β she recently remarried, and Cody is married again, too β is not only a barrel racer and roper, but an educator and former principal at Empire High School in Vail. She and Cody met while competing for the UA Rodeo team, and sheβs been managing life on and off the road ever since.
In a sport where that thin line can be as simple as knowing which flights to book and which rodeos to avoid, Rio has inherited a key ingredient to future success.
Look at his arm tape. Thatβs his, and his alone. Heβs never had to ask a fellow rider for any supplies, and he adds, βeveryoneβs always asking me for (stuff). Itβs annoying.β
His father cracks up whenβs told that. He says he never had tape, always had to borrow it from a buddy.
βEverybody thinks the mental part of it is toughness, being mentally tough in the arena,β Tucson Rodeo general manager Gary Williams said. βThatβs extremely important. But it is discipline. Itβs mental discipline to not forget. We had a great cowboy years ago. Everyone thought heβd be a world champion and he never was. One year he led circuit in three events, obviously was going to win all-around as well.
βHe forgot to enter circuit finals.β
This is something simple. But in rodeo, itβs half the game.
βThe whole damn thing is a dance,β Rio said. βEvery thing from getting to the rodeo to leaving the rodeo is a dance, man. Itβs hard β youβve got to enter, youβve got to call in, youβve got to pay your fees, youβve got to try to work out which rodeos you go to and when, and when you get here, you have to find your horse, and itβs a dance trying to get your rigging on him, and then trying to ride him clean.β
The ride of his life
The plan is as simple as the dreams are big.
βIβll be in it as long as I can,β Rio said. βI want to make the NFR a couple times, three times, until I feel happy with myself. Iβll slow down when Iβm older.β
Right now, heβs going fast.
He is an artist and he author β he wrote a 30-page short story that had his grandfather Jim begging for a sequel β but he can do all of that later.
Rio's got living to do.
βI wasnβt lonely in high school, but itβs hard to have a lot in common with most of those kids,β he said. βThey never take a step off the pavement, and all day Iβm riding horses, doing rodeos. Itβs kind of hard to get along with that crowd. Rodeo is my high school. Same type of crowd, so many people watching β this is my life, this is my job, itβs what I do.β
Of course, fear lingers, as does doubt.
Every time a cowboy climbs on to a horse, he is at risk, and the risk is exemplified on Friday in Scottsdale, when a bareback rider named Kid Banuelos falls off the wrong side of his horse and gets his hand hung up the wrong way. Heβs unable to break free of his rigging, and the horse drags him around the arena, like a rag doll hanging out a car window.
He is aware of the danger, as are his parents.Β
Even six months ago, Cody said he was βreally worried every time he nodded his head. Still, the thing I pray for most is his safety.β
Cindy, like any good mother, fears, too.
But she has accepted his career path, and encouraged it even. She knows the danger is not just in the ring, but what lurks outside of it as well.
βAs soon as you start, the girls are interested,β Rio said. βYou start winning, and they start noticing, and you notice them noticing. You start winning a lot, and they really start noticing. Itβs a little weird. You just want to say relax β¦ but itβs cool, too. Hey, enjoy the ride.β
Just not too much. Thereβs winning to do.
βLets not have rose-colored glasses on β at some point heβs going to (mess) up,β Cindy said. βBut I feel good about him. He and I talk a lot, and he feels open to share whatβs going on. It might not always be that way, and thatβs OK. I donβt get accusatory, donβt get mad. I feel like he feels like he can talk to me.
βPlus I have spies β¦ everywhere.β
