A world class athlete lives in our midst in the Mandan area who has brought a lot of attention to the community while building quite a reputation for himself. As a professional he earned lots of money before he retired from the applause of the crowds and was put out to pasture, literally put out to pasture because he's the famous rodeo bull Little Yellow Jacket. A baseball player does well to bat over .300 in his career; this bull averaged well over .800 and in sum total worked just over eight minutes at his craft. He is said to be well cared for in retirement and is brought out as the celebrity he is at various community events.
Another animal athlete worthy of note was the gelding Tipperary, a bucking horse foaled in South Dakota in 1905. He interested me enough that I researched his life, wrote a long biographical poem in unrhymed blank verse, and performed it at the annual Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Medora in 1905. About 90 documented riders tried their luck at riding him, and, of them, there is only one undisputed ride. There were a couple of others, but they were of questionable success. His complete story is too long to tell here, but it was the end of his life that touched me. Here is the last section of that poem:
I heard my namesake song Tipperary
one last time when they took me to Belle Fourche
to parade me in front of the grandstand
where I'd sold thousands of tickets in past
contests. I walked slowly, sagging, shaggy,
spiritless, mindless of the spectators
disappointed with my sad appearance.
But that tune! Something about that music
once again sent sparks shooting through my veins.
I threw up my head and stepped to the time
its measures played and heard the crowd's applause
like old times past. I felt the strength of youth
again, ready to take on all comers,
remembering my twisting, sunfishing,
pounding moves that unsaddled so many.
Yes, the relentless erosion of age
had taken its toll, but old admirers
cheered me loudly that one last time.
The memory lingered for a long while
even after the music stopped, my head
dropped, and I walked away to face the storm.
...
Tipperary died in a Montana blizzard.
