Cowboying Up
Bull Market
Career Suicide
| Job Title: Professional cowboy Employers: Self-employed Openings: Apprentice with an older cowboy and enter competitions Salary Cap: $300,000 Number of Jobs: About 6,500 |
It's 8 o'clock in the morning on the Fourth of July, and in the last few days, Bobby Mote has driven from Livingston, Montana, to Boise, Idaho, hopped a plane to Phoenix, and is now in a rented car on the way to Prescott, Arizona. It's Cowboy Christmas, the busiest time of year for Mote, a professional rodeo cowboy.
In the next week, he'll compete in eight rodeos, looking to collect enough in winnings and points to qualify for the Pro Rodeo championships in Las Vegas next December and defend his 2007 title as the world's best bareback rider.
Mote epitomizes the modern professional cowboy. During a 10-month season, he'll compete in 100 rodeos in the western United States and Canada against 400 other riders. His long hours in chartered planes and rented cars are all for the chance to last maybe eight seconds in the ring on a bucking bronco (his highest score was 93 out of a possible 100 in a competition in Dallas, just short of the highest recorded score of 94).
Now, at 32, Mote is one of the best in the sport, with 2002 and 2007 championship titles under his belt, winnings of $207,184 last year, and lifetime earnings of more than $1.1 million, making him one of the top-50-winningest pro cowboys of all time. "It doesn't make sense to a lot of people to do what we do," Mote says. "But at the same time, I'm doing what I love to do, and I'm making a living at it. That's pretty awesome."
Mote has the rugged good looks of the Marlboro Man, but you won't find him smoking, drinking, or fooling around while he's on the road. Like other professional athletes, rodeo cowboys depend on their bodies for their livelihoods and treat them accordingly. Over the years, Mote has hurt his neck and broken a leg, shoulder, and collarbone. So during the off-season he runs, does core-strength exercises, and works out with a personal trainer to be in peak condition for competition. "As much as I hate to say it, the older you get, the harder it is to keep yourself up," he says.
Mote got hooked on the sport as a 15-year-old growing up near Redmond, Oregon, after hearing an old cowboy singer wax nostalgic about rodeo life. After finishing high school, he started entering weekend competitions, cutting firewood and training horses to support himself. Eventually, he apprenticed with an older cowboy—an esteemed rodeo tradition—and hit the big time in 2001 when he made it to the national championships for the first time and took second place.
Mote is now one of those old-timers, traveling with a posse of three younger cowboys who share hotel rooms, rental cars, and gas—a necessity at a time when rising costs make "the cowboy way" more expensive.
To keep overhead low, Mote books his own rodeo appearances and travel arrangements. He's also his own financial planner. He figures he needs four more years on the circuit to pay off the 40-acre spread in the tiny central-Oregon town of Culver where he lives with his wife, three kids, and 10 horses, and to put enough away to launch a second career. Exactly what that will be he doesn't know yet.
But this summer Mote started a bareback-riding camp for kids. It's his way of passing on what he's learned, and keeping the rodeo tradition alive.






