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Posted on Wed, May. 07, 2008

Sanders: On my high horse for St. Jude's

By BOB RAY SANDERS

Star-Telegram Staff Writer

More than 20 years ago I made a promise to myself that, until Saturday, I had never broken.

Way back when, on a cool fall evening outside a rustic lodge in Colorado, I swore before God and a throng of onlookers that I would never do it again. And yet last weekend, there I was -- in view of more than 100 people -- doing it once more.

Before your mind wanders too far, this has nothing to with alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic violence or anything like that. After that Colorado experience, I immediately declared (simply but emphatically) that I would never get on another horse as long as I lived.

I shall never forget that afternoon when a group of us public radio managers arrived at a mountainside ranch for a retreat to talk about programming and how to interpret Arbitron ratings. After the first day's sessions, we were supposed to go horseback riding before dinner.

We walked outside, where at least 20 or so horses were saddled, and I noticed that what appeared to be the biggest and wildest animal was acting up as a guy tried to calm him down. That's when I was told that the big stallion was mine, because someone had informed the ranch folk that I was from Texas and knew how to handle horses.

Besides, with a name like "Bob Ray," it seemed natural to them that I was the only real cowboy among the group.

As soon as I mounted, the horse took off running -- not trotting, but a full gallop -- first across a meadow and then onto a narrow mountain trail along ravines that looked 100 yards deep.

Tree branches slapped and scarred my face as the animal clearly took charge.

A few minutes later, the foreman rode up beside me and yelled, "Pull back on the reins," which I did, and the horse reared and took off running again. When it finally got to where it wanted to go, it stopped.

That's when I said a prayer and made my promise.

A few months ago, I got a call from a buddy over at the American Paint Horse Association asking if I would be the honorary "trail boss" for the group's second annual Saddle Up for St. Jude Trail Ride.

I told him the Colorado story, mentioned the pledge I had made and reminded him that at the last APHA event I attended, I had walked into the arena at the Will Rogers complex.

Jerry Circelli was very convincing, however, especially after I told him that I had been a fan of the old TV western Rawhide, which ran for eight seasons from 1959 to 1966. I mentioned that as a child I actually envisioned being like trail boss Gil Favor (played by Eric Fleming) and that there was always something special about that weekly cattle drive from Texas to Kansas City.

Reminding me that the fundraising event benefitted St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, Circelli continued to persuade me by assuring that the folks at Benbrook Stables would find me a really gentle animal that would be kind. He even called last week from the stables to say that my horse had been picked out and that she was going to be great for me.

On Saturday morning, there I was getting instructions from the real trail boss, Cash Brown, and Molly Thompson, who owns the stables with her husband, Steve.

My horse was Old Seven, with the emphasis on old (implying gentle). Someone suggested that Seven meant luck -- something I would need this day.

There were two trails -- one that would take slightly more than two and a half hours, and one that would take around 75 minutes to complete. I was determined to be on the horse for as briefly as possible, but as it turned out, I was mounted and moving forward on the first group that left the stable yards.

Yep, I was on the long ride.

Old Seven did pretty well, though, even crossing creeks and getting almost belly deep in a muddy bog.

Occasionally I would hear Circelli's voice saying, "You're doing real good, Bob Ray."

It was a scenic trail, high above Benbrook Lake, with wildflowers and a view of the lake and the downtown Fort Worth skyline I had never seen before.

When we got back to the "camp," waiting for us at the chuck wagon was not the old cook Wishbone from Rawhide but two well-known chefs: Grady Spears and Michael Thompson.

Of course, it wasn't until I got off Old Seven, after having ridden about three hours and 10 miles, that I realized the toll the ride had taken on me.

I was sore all over, and for the first few minutes I could hardly walk.

Brown advised that I stretch, and several people told me to soak in some Epsom salt later. I heeded all their counsel.

Although I'm still sore, my pain reminds me of the good we did Saturday. Last year, the group had raised a little more than $12,000 for St. Jude's. This year's event, with 102 riders and proceeds from a silent and live auction, netted $18,000 for the pediatric cancer research center.

Yes, that's definitely worth getting a sore backside.