Mexican Rodeo Brings Flair to SWW Fairgrounds

According to bullfighter Junior Hernandez, one of the biggest differences between American rodeos and the Mexican rodeo is the alcohol policy. Where American rodeos typically host a strict beer garden with rigid plastic wristbands and tight-set boundaries, a Mexican rodeo has a more wide-open open-container policy with boxes and cans of Modelos lining the arena and dotting the grandstands. 

Although the event is thoroughly lubricated, Hernandez says there is little reason to worry about bad behavior due to the self-policing nature of the event.

“We all know each other or we’ve seen each other multiple times and we know we will run into each other again, so there’s no reason to start any trouble,” explained Hernandez, of Auburn, who has been donning the baggy shorts and fighting bulls to protect wayward cowboys for three years with his partner Jony Silva, of Enumclaw.

“We started out bullfighting after we figured out we weren’t very good at bull riding. We started doing this instead, so we changed things up but it’s still the same habit,” explained Hernandez. “We don’t really get to practice during the week so whenever we come out here that’s our time with the bulls. But we come out with heart and integrity and no one can question that.”  

About 800 people came out to the Southwest Washington Fairgrounds on Saturday afternoon in order to take in the sensory spectacle known as the Mexican Rodeo. A pair of live bands kept the air alive with music while dapperly dressed spectators in snakeskin boots and bedazzled blue jeans settled into their seats. 

Food vendors filled the air with savory scents from fresh tacos, and men with well-oiled smiles rode confident horses that expertly pranced along to the beat of the band. In the arena, cowboys wearing brightly colored chaps with brash designs that appeared inspired by professional wrestling garb took turns riding angry bulls, often times using just their legs to sustain the mount in order to flaunt their impressive no-hands riding skills.

 In between rides, the colorfully adorned Hernandez in his downturned sun hat would take to the center of the riding arena and amuse the crowd with a cartoonish dance routine that alternately mimicked the aggressive moves of the bulls and the harried escape attempts of the riders.

“That’s his show,” said a stoic Silva with a modest laugh as he stood at the edge of the arena watching his partner dance in the rain.

Hernandez says the dancing routine is just an extracurricular part of his duties as a professional bullfighter. “Our main job is to protect the bull riders, but if we can get a smile out of the kids while we’re at it then why not?”

Hernandez says he can sometimes make as much as $100 a show for going to the trouble to throw himself in front of rampaging 2-ton beasts looking to maim and kill. Other times, like when the rodeo sets up in a farmer’s field in order to provide an evening of entertainment for the field workers, he doesn’t wind up getting paid at all. 

Not that it bothers Hernandez all that much. He’s not after the money, he simply enjoys being a part of the tightknit rodeo community. However, he says the bad paydays often coincide with his most painful work days.

“Sometimes it seems like it’s all bad days all at once. The days you get paid the least are the days you take the most hits. It always happens like that,” said Hernandez with a sidewinding smile.

As men on dancing horses skirted the perimeter of the bull riding arena, well-coiffed vaqueros took turns attempting to mount and ride out the thundering bulls.

Juan Parra, 20, of Las Vegas, was one of those bull riders on hand on Saturday. Part of team Rancho Semental in their creamsicle colored riding shirts, Parra has been riding bulls professionally for three years. 

Unlike many of the riders, he typically employs a one-handed riding approach and noted that the no-hands riders tend to be more experienced and know how to expertly employ a sharper boot spur and a vice-grip leg-lock in order to hold their mount with both hands waving in the air.

When a thunder cloud rainstorm descended on the fairgrounds mid-afternoon, the rodeo was put on a 20-minute rain delay. Folding tables became makeshift shelters, garbage bags became ponchos, empty beer boxes became umbrellas and the covered grandstands temporarily filled to capacity as rivers of rain ran alongside the vendors row.

 Hiding out under a pop-up tent with a cluster of his fellow dapper riders, Parra said he’d never seen so much rain at a rodeo before, let alone a baseball style rain delay. During the thick of the storm he admitted to momentarily losing his drive to ride. 

Being from Las Vegas, Parra said he just isn’t used to the mud, but once the skies cleared it didn’t take long for his enthusiasm to return. As Parra waited his turn to try to tame a beast, jovial men drinking Modelos continued to ride dancing horses to and fro, and a spirited bullfighter clowned in the mud for the waterlogged crowd.

“It’s an adrenaline rush, man. We love doing these things,” said Parra. “We grew up on the ranch and learned how to ride. It’s what we love to do.”