LUCK IS IN THE JEANS

 by Julie Carter
Every cowboy has a "secret weapon" that gives them a competing edge. Their arsenal for the illusion, or delusion, of luck runs the gamut of superstitions.
With rodeo and roping season moving into the heat of the year, both by thermometer and by calendar, cowboys are plotting, planning, driving and surviving while taking their best shots at making the finals.
A cowboy's belief in what brings him success, while often falling short on factual verification, will never lack in creativity.
Jim was a calf roper who carried a gallon jug of water in his camper in which to wash his lucky rodeo shirt, never pouring the water out all summer.
"Don't want to wash out the luck so you have to keep it in the water," he'd say.
By the end of a long rodeo season he was noticeably a loner. Apparently, the smell of luck was not as socially rewarding as the possession of it.
As a team roper, Walker always believed that hard work paid off and he endorsed the theory that "perfect practice makes perfect." But lately, he'd begun to wonder if he wasn't standing in the wrong line.
A similar "wrong line" feeling had occurred to him when he was in college. Walker recalled that incident landed him erroneously in the military corps. Repeating that lesson, even hypothetically, was not a good plan.Walker had spent his entire adult life pasture roping in all kinds of weather, most often riding a green colt with no one around to help. Every loop had to count.
When he reached a point in life where he could rope for fun, he built a good arena, kept a supply of fresh Corriente steers, bought exceptional horses and ropes by the boxcar full. And, he practiced non-stop.
He was dedicated to eating right, exercising, regular strength training and of course, took his vitamins. He was selective about the ropings he entered and even more discriminating in choosing his roping partners.
Most of the time, the results were as favorable as the game of team roping ever allows. Win some, lose some.
In his good-natured way, Walker made a lot of friends and was gradually making his way into that elite club of the ropers labeled as "wolves."
Wolves are just ropers too, but ones with impressive, inarguable winning records. Walker's new partner, Les, drives down the highway in the proof of his skill with a rope.
Les' trophy truck has advertising on all four corners that declares him to be a champion. He proves his dedication to the sport by practicing late into the night and would stay at it until it was time to go to work if needed.
Les consistently catches two feet on his end of the steer, keeping his success percentage impressively high. On the rare occasion that he misses, you hear none of the usual litany of excuses --bad cattle, bad flagger, bad barrier, the header's fault, it rained in Brazil, the neighbor's mother's cousin's dog died - you've heard them before.
After watching the duo stop the clock time after time in the practice pen in 100 degree heat with humidity to match, Walker's wife thought she'd ask Les what his secret to success was.
Too late to take it back, Les' answer made her wish she hadn't been so inquisitive.
Proudly Les told her, "Absolutely every bit of ability and success I have, I attribute to my lucky polka dot under drawers."
With that tidbit of information out to the general population, there is likely to be a run on polka dotted BVDs down at the mercantile. A particular color wasn't detailed as necessary.
Although, I do wonder if a trendy zebra stripe or leopard print would be as effective.