This weekend, AT&T Stadium is hosting the Professional Bull Riders Global Cup. The PBR launched the Global Cup in 2017, so American cowboys could assert their dominance over the rest of the world.

Team USA rode the tar outta the bulls the first year. Then Brazil won the next two.

When I got the email from an associate inviting me out for a lesson on how to ride a bull, I had to act:

Of course I wouldn’t need a guide to the gear. Loyal Scaiaholics know I’ve had my had my hat steamed professionally. But there’s a lesson here for America’s youth: You’re never too old to stop learning. I had never learned how to ride a bull.

The public relations contact texted me instructions on where to park at the stadium. I checked in with security.

I became concerned. I had nowhere to hang my media credential on my shirt because I had decided to go home, get my professionally-steamed hat and put on my shirt with pearl snaps. I didn’t have any button holes to hang the credential.

“Hmm, maybe I did need that ‘Guide to the Gear’ after all,” I thought to myself.

My small collection of pearl snap shirts dates back to my career in Oregon. Reporters at the Pendleton Round-Up are required to wear western gear because the Round-Up wants everyone who will be on the dirt to look authentic. They don’t need some fancy Dallas-City-Boy showin’ up in a suit and ruining the experience for the fans. They want a gentleman from Fort Worth who knows how to blend in.

The public relations folk and the contractor who raised the bull introduced us. The bull’s name is, and I swear I’m not making this up, Sugar Boom-Boom.

I started chatting with the security guards, explaining that I was looking forward to learning how to ride a bull, but I was concerned the bull would be less than pleased because I’d fumble around climbing on board because I have a hip injury, and I’m an XXL.

The security guard explained that he’s sure a lot bigger people than me climbed on bulls all the time.

“Look at Mongo,” he said. Still a reference, people!

We did hit a snag, though.

Sugar Boom Boom, you see, had become too feisty that morning to let reporters ride him.

The concern was that I would wind up riding the bull, and not in an adorable, publicity-stunt kind of way:

The contractor who was providing some of the bulls is a fellow Ohioan. We talked about how the bulls are athletes. They enjoy these events just as much as the cowboys. When rodeo clowns and ropers are trying to corral the bulls, that’s when the bulls are strutting around if they bucked the rider, not unlike the time someone stands at home plate admiring his moon shot when he knows he just hit a home run.

Apparently, Sugar Boom Boom is the Barry Bonds of bull riding. It may be for the best I wasn’t allowed on the bull.