Less often, they’ll say “I bet you know how to swing a fucking golf club,” or, “I’ve been to the rodeo in Elizabeth!” While I’m proud of my joint rolling skills, the second and third retorts will lead to a more animated response. I played college golf, and spent six years as a PGA Professional post graduation. To the chagrin of my father, a rancher who finds trophy buckles frivolous, and never misses an opportunity to remind me that with his horsemanship skills, spurs just aren’t necessary, I’d trade all of my golf accomplishments for one scored ride on a damn bull.