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Men battle the bulls

  • Story Highlights
  • Charreada is a Mexican horseback riding sport where riders try to fell bulls
  • Sport is being recreated in backyard rodeo pits and cement arenas in U.S.
  • Mexico's charreada federation creates new laws governing U.S. events
  • "This isn't a sport of business, this is a family sport," rider says
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MABELVALE, Arkansas (AP) -- The bulls line the metal chute, horns blunted at the tips, as the men around them hiss catcalls in Spanish.

A rider tries to hook a bull's tail around his leg in order to make the bull fall.

A rider tries to hook a bull's tail around his leg in order to make the bull fall.

The gate flies open as a slender brown bull charges out. A man on horseback follows behind, reaching down to wrap the bull's tail around his stirruped leg.

The horse rears back, the bull's tail pulls taut and the animal flips over onto its back, spinning in a cloud of dust. A cheer rises up in the afternoon sun.

This is the world of the charreada, a contest recreating an idealized Mexican past when ranch hands in stiff hats roamed the range. The black suits and silver buckles, immortalized in film, became the standard after years of bloody revolution gripped Mexico.

Now, a sport that brought together landowners and field hands exists in backyard rodeo pits and cement arenas built by business owners and others hoping to recreate that culture in the United States. But the charreada remains risky and tension exists between doctors and lawyers who dominate the sport in Mexico and the day-laboring immigrants who mount bulls and horses north of the border.

"It can be dangerous," said Miguel Torres, who hosts the Mabelvale charreada at his home.

Charreada Rule No. 52: It's obligatory for whatever cowboy, competitor or not, to carry oneself with dignity and gallantry, and in complete national dress at whatever place.

Just south of Little Rock, Arkansas' capital city, dust rises in the circular bull ring. Torres, who runs his own home construction company, built the stadium several years ago. He and his family used to live in Austin, Texas, but his love of charreada comes from memories of San Luis Potosi, the central Mexican state he still calls home.

"Now, we don't have to drive cattle, as there is no cattle," Torres said. "Back in my hometown, they are used to livestock and having to vaccinate them and care for them, all of those things they had to do. Now we don't have to do it, but still we continue the sport."

A charreada differs from American rodeo as cowboys work in teams, often performing rope tricks to wow the crowd and earn points from judges as others chase down a wild horse and rope it into submission. Across its events, judges value speed and control: bringing a galloping horse to a dead-stop inside a rectangle painted in the dirt, riding a bucking bull into docility or jumping from one horse to another.

This day, Torres just plans to practice. Men, some Torres' workers, others his friends, herd the cattle away from a small pond on his property toward the arena. There, they line up some of the bulls in a chute, preparing to run them out to practice an event called "coleadores" -- chasing the bull down and grabbing its tail.

Style plays into the event. A competitor must salute judges as the bull races out of the chute, touching the back of his hand against his hat. The bull's rump must be slapped before a rider reaches in for the tail.

Josefina Torres, Torres' wife, watches from a stand usually occupied by judges. Bull after bull races out, sometimes leaving the cowboy behind in its dust.

"They have to be very careful, even in practice," Josefina Torres said. "If the bull falls and hits a horse's legs, they can fall. The horse has to learn how to do these things."

Several competitions have been held at Torres' arena, including one last year to benefit a girl who needed a kidney transplant. During the competition, a charro had a horse fall on top of him, severing his bladder. He survived after emergency surgery.

Costumes provide some protection. The large, curved hats, made with tough rabbit hair or other material, protects against neck injuries. Thick black cloth stops some scrapes and others often wear hard vests when riding the bulls.

The cost for the costumes adds up. The hat can go for up to $600. The shirt, pants and boots average about $2,800.

"I like the way it looks, but I don't like the price," Miguel Torres said.

The cost makes charreada a sport practiced among the moneyed in Mexico. However, teams have sprung up throughout the United States since the 1970s as immigrants settled and became established. In Arkansas, which has seen its Hispanic population jump from under 20,000 in 1990 to more than 150,000 now, Torres' Lienzo Charro "La Aventura" represents both an expansion and tweak on something ingrained in law as Mexico's national sport.

"Un charro es un caballero dos veces" -- popular Spanish phrase meaning a Mexican cowboy is both a skilled horseman and a gentleman.

Spanish conquistadors brought the horse to Mexico and nobility often controlled the animals until the nation won its independence in 1821. Political violence and banditry fell across much of Mexico and President Benito Juarez created the Guardia Rural to combat bandits. The rural guard, dressed as charros, became even more of a national legend under President Porfirio Diaz.

Charreadas themselves came from seasonal cattle roundups where both field workers and landowners took part, said Olga Najera-Ramirez, a professor of anthropology at the University of California, Santa Cruz. The event showcased a time when everyone came together, something desperately needed in the days after more than a decade of revolutionary violence ended in Mexico by the late 1920s.

"One of the things about symbols is that you can make them mean want you want them to mean. This was a way of bridging between the elite landowners and the peons that worked for them," Najera-Ramirez said. "That was sort of the beauty of the charreada, because it is a family-oriented activity and it brought together workers and landowners, it was sort of this unifying activity and that was sort of part of its power."

Lawmakers declared charreada the official sport of Mexico and by 1933 the National Federation of Charro was formed. The federation provided a series of strict rules and guidelines for the sport, outlawing drinking and lewd behavior among its armed participants.

The image of the charro spread via motion pictures. Singing charros like Pedro Infante took the Mexican imagination by storm, much like Gene Autry did with U.S. audiences, Najera-Raimrez said. Mariachi bands and singers took on the black-suited look of charros.

Though rooted in the idea of a united Mexico, the sport became, over time, an event for doctors, lawyers and other wealthy men in Mexico. The judges for events held in the U.S. often come from Mexico and can have a sort of class suspicion among their northern counterparts.

"Part of it is the class difference. These are highly professional men. They have a profession and this is their sort of hobby that they do on the weekends, even though some of them are very passionate about it," Najera-Ramirez said. "Because of that wealthy association, a lot of people call it 'the Mexican polo."'

Special U.S. Charreada Rule No. 1: Spurring forms ... must be moderate and not cause the animals to bleed.

Charreadas had a foothold in the western territories long before they joined the United States. As the nation's Hispanic population grew, charreadas found their way into other areas, including Chicago.

But the sport is viewed skeptically by some, particularly animal-rights groups. In one event, charros chase a horse around the ring until a fellow cowboy throws a lasso over the animal's two-front legs. In the old days, the cowboy would draw the rope tight, tripping the sprinting horse.

Several states, including California, now ban "horse tripping." Mexico's charreada federation also recognizes that, creating a new section of law governing its U.S. events. Anyone caught intentionally tripping a horse faces a yearlong suspension.

In Mabelvale, a group of charros practices the event, with Miguel Torres giving a bareback horse a start with a cattle prod. Two charros chase the startled horse around the circle as another man spins and jumps through lasso hoops.

On the second pass, the cowboy tosses the lasso, leaving it large enough for the horse to continue its gallop around the dirt-floor ring.

Signs warn spectators they could be hurt, too, and that the arena bears no responsibility. Still, the event offers some the only taste of Mexico they can get in Arkansas, as return trips home can be either to pricey or too dangerous for illegal immigrants who will want to return to the U.S.

"They say, 'It feels like I'm in Mexico. This the closest I can go,"' Najera-Ramirez said. "It's not anti-American, which some have said. It's just not wanting to erase their Mexican portion. It's wanting to keep that alive and instill that in the children."

As the sun sets in Mabelvale, families sit in the concrete bleachers, as young men hang near the back, drinking beer and laughing. Miguel Torres said he hopes to have his charros recognized by the federation and compete regularly with other teams, but he acknowledges that's not the most important goal.

"This isn't a sport of business, this is a family sport," he said. "All of the families are together, live together and rodeo together."

Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

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