The kid always wanted to be a cowboy. Or maybe he's just becoming what he's been inside all along.
Patrick Blase's friends often ask how a kid who grew up in a Manassas townhouse ended up in boots and a cowboy hat.
The truth of it is, horses and bull riding have fascinated him since he can remember. He watched bull riding and rodeo events on TV, and he admits wearing out a copy of "8 Seconds," a 1994 independent film chronicling the life of world champion bull rider Lane Frost.
Patrick would have been about 7 when it was released.
"My mom used to tell everyone (that) when I was younger I would tell people, 'It's not that I wanna be a cowboy, I am a cowboy,'" he said, grinning in a cowboy hat and T-shirt before a competition.
***
Patrick, 20, started out like many middle-class American boys - playing Little League baseball and lacrosse. His family moved to Culpeper during high school, and as soon as he was old enough to sign his own parental consent forms, he was bull riding in competitions statewide.
When Patrick hit the magic age of 18, he fervently searched the Internet for bull riding associations and clinics.
He found Paul Waslyn, a longtime Rixeyville rider.
Waslyn, 31, left his hometown in upstate New York for Virginia when he turned 18. He found work as a horse trainer at Diamond C Paint and Quarter Horse Farm in Rixeyville, and later married its owner, Cindy.
Waslyn came into bull riding nearly a decade ago quite by accident. He was wooing a potential client who happened to fancy bull riding. He told Waslyn he should try it, and he agreed, thinking nothing would ever come of it. When the client materialized with actual bulls, he was hesitant, but not about to back out and lose face. He cowboy'd up and won money on his first attempt.
Waslyn likes to tell people he continued bull riding because "I'm too lazy to work, too scared to steal and too jealous to pimp."
During his eight years as a bull rider, Waslyn says he's always taken home money - enough to be a second source of income, and he's even won some titles. He finished third in the American Professional Rodeo Association in 2001, won World and United Bull Riders in 2002 and placed second the following year. He made it to the International Bull Riders finals in 2004, and ranked in the IBR top 15 in 2005 and 2006.
Waslyn said this is the first year he hasn't taken anything home.
He's getting old. At least he's considered old in this circuit, where kids as young as 13 are romping into the ring. Waslyn may be 31, but he looks and talks like a brash and ballsy 21-year-old.
He carries himself with a cool confidence, which cowboys half his age will someday grow into. The air of assuredness is the only quality that visually sets him apart.
Patrick signed up for an annual bull riding camp at Waslyn's farm during the spring of 2005.
He was hooked.
"The more and more I get into it, the more and more I get into it," Patrick said, issuing a half smile and dipping his hat as if holding back a laugh.
Now Waslyn's sort of taken him under his wing.
"He yells at me when I screw up," Patrick said.
***
On this particular day, Patrick prepares to compete in The Plains, a rural hamlet in northern Fauquier County. Cowboys travel there from as far away as New York, Massachusetts and Florida for the competition.
For Patrick, it's as close to a home game as he gets, and his mother, Debi Blase, is in the front row - one in a crowd of at least 300.
Patrick's face is serious as he ties his rope to a fence. He pulls it taught and rubs the crusty rosin with the bladed side of his knife. Friction causes the old rosin to warm up and get sticky.
He puts on thick leather gloves and rubs the blade between his thumb and index finger, doing the same so his hand sticks in the loop.
The announcer introduces the bull riders by name and they walk out to the center of the ring. When Patrick's name is called, cheers erupt from the box seats.
He's not really accustomed to having a cheering section. He says there's less pressure without one.
Patrick had a close call last April at a competition in Bristol.
A bull swung him forward and Patrick hit his face on the animal's head, knocking him unconscious. Patrick hit the ground, and the bull - still bucking - landed a hoof on the side of his face.
Patrick was airlifted to the nearest hospital, where doctors performed an MRI and CAT scan. The bull's hoof had only grazed his cheek, leaving him with bumps, bruises and a small concussion.
"Nothing major," Patrick said. "It looked like road rash."Debi and Patrick's father rushed to Bristol as soon as they got the phone call.
"I think she was panicky she was not down there with me," Patrick said.
However, driving home the next day Debi was there, saying, "I want you getting back on him."Patrick faced the same bull about a month later.
It was the only time, he said, he's ever been nervous. The bull behaved and bucked the same way it had the day he was knocked out, so he jumped off. Less because of nerves, he said, and more "head sense."
Despite the close call, Patrick refuses to wear protective headgear. He feels it limits his peripheral vision. Besides, he's seen a rider whose headgear had to be surgically removed after a bull smashed his head. The headgear seemed pretty pointless to him after that.
"You know, they say if you rode every bull and like it jumped out there underneath - you rode him and covered him, scored your best on him every time you came out, it'd be no fun anymore. You gotta have this fear they'll buck you off to keep you in," he said confidently.
"In my case, it's been the last 20 or so," he smiled. "But that's what keeps drawing me back."
***
A voice announces Waslyn's ride. The chute opens and the bull starts into a series of wild romps. Waslyn holds on for eight seconds, qualifying for the short go, or the final round of contestants.
A handful of riders are up before Patrick, but the announcer finally calls his ride.
Patrick sits atop the bull in the chute and fixes his grip. Only his cowboy hat is visible over the top of the chute. The bull angrily pops on its hind legs, and a cast of cowboys helps Patrick brace himself while the clumsy tangle of horn, fur and hooves settles calmly back into the chute.
"When that bull jumps out there in that ring, nothing matters. It doesn't matter what's happening later on that night, who you're gonna run into 10 years down the road, the future - you're not thinking about anything but staying on," Patrick explained before the ride. "Don't worry about what the bull is doing; just react"
The chute door swings open. The bull leaps out arches its back in a succession of violent and chaotic bucks for several seconds, and then nearly slams against the side of the ring.
Patrick catches the railing with one hand and comes off the bull. He hangs there for a moment as the bull settles from its jumping tirade.
Seven seconds.
"That was his best ride ever," Debi Blase shouts and beams.
"He's just beside himself right now," she says.
She could barely watch her son's ride.
"I don't watch, but I watch," she says. "If that makes sense."
She rushes behind the chutes to get a glimpse of Patrick's smile. His face is glowing, making it worth every moment of motherly anxiety.
"This is his passion," she explains. Everything else is irrelevant.
***
Not long after Patrick's ride, a cowboy gets stomped. When the bull settles and runs back into its pen, paramedics and competing cowboys rush to his side. The fallen cowboy attempts to stand, but falls. The crowd is silent.
Paramedics strap him to a stretcher.
Debi, who is still seated in the front row, tenses and turns away.
"If one gets hurt, they all come out. They're all for one," she says.
Silence.
She clasps her hands to her lips and fixes her eyes on the fallen cowboy.
The audience claps as he's wheeled from the arena.
"Where is my boy-" she shouts.
No one answers.
She excuses herself, walks behind the box seating and lights a cigarette. She's not usually a smoker, she says, "That's how I get through this."
Katie Dolac can be reached at 825-0771 ext. 138 or kdolac@starexponent.com.
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