The first bull blew out of the chute like the devil had lit a fire under him—four hooves barely touching dirt before the rider was pitched skyward. The man hit the ground hard and rolled, dust cloud swallowing him whole as the bull spun, head low, horns slashing air. A barrelman darted in, clapping and hollering, drawing the animal away in a dance older than the sport itself.

The next gate banged open and another beast launched forward, shoulders snapping like a whip. This rider held ...