Steamboat Springs – Billy Kidd started wearing the hat long before he became a cowboy. And even 36 years after moving from Vermont to Steamboat, that most Western of ski country towns, there are those who might contest his authenticity.
But that’s the nature of the cowboy, now isn’t it? As Kidd says, “Whenever you get two or three cowboys together, you’ve got a contest.”
That’s the way it went down back in 1974, when ProRodeo Hall of Fame cowboy Larry Mahan called on the 1964 Olympic slalom silver medalist and told him he wanted to take up skiing.
“He called me up and said, ‘Hey, I want to learn how to ski and I heard you’re the guy to teach me,”‘ Kidd said. “I said, ‘Come on up,’ and I couldn’t believe how fast he learned. The next year he brought some friends, and that was the beginning of the Cowboy Downhill.”
Thirty-two years later, the annual Cowboy Downhill remains a highlight among the rodeo riders at the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo, drawing as many as 100 ProRodeo cowboys to Steamboat Springs for some friendly competition in an unfamiliar environment. Rodeo riders trade spurs for skis, most remaining true to the stubborn cowboy stereotype and forgoing the free lessons the resort offers before challenging one another in slalom and downhill races at the day’s marquee event, the Cowboy Stampede.
“They are like Bode Miller. They don’t want to listen to anybody,” Kidd said. “They have it all figured out before they even put on the skis. They grab skis, go up to the top of the mountain and figure they’ll learn on the way down. So they get really good at flips and spins and rolls.”
Many struggle mightily on the sliding sticks, relying on good old cowboy grit to get them down the mountain. But it could be worse.
“They are the toughest athletes I’ve ever seen,” Kidd said. “They compete on the rodeo circuit with broken legs, arms, backs and everything, and they figure this is a pretty easy sport because after you get bucked off the skis, there’s no bull trying to kill you.”
Still, the boys take their share of licks on the sticks. Fortunately, they can rely on one of their own to patch them up.
Steamboat’s Michael Sisk is an orthopedic surgeon who understands skiing and cowboys. As a lifelong skier and broncobuster, the U.S. Ski Team doctor and three-time Cowboy Downhill winner is equal parts wrangler and ringer. Sure, he puts in his time on the Pro-
Rodeo circuit – all downhillers have to qualify and compete in the Denver rodeo – but he also skis on 216cm downhill skis, borrowed off a U.S. Ski Team patient. And unlike the majority of his competition, he knows how to steer.
“I do ski here a lot,” Sisk, 37, confessed from the winner’s circle. “But I rodeoed all summer long to qualify to go to Denver. And riding bucking horses is a lot harder than this.”
There is little time for pastimes for guys like Sisk, who was in surgery until 1 a.m. the night before the Cowboy Downhill and returned to the emergency room before picking up his trophy after last Tuesday’s race. But according to the good doctor – who admits to taking a worse beating in Denver than he doled out on the slopes – ski racing is a pleasant respite from the hazards of rodeo, even for the amateurs. (The three ski-related ACL operations pale in comparison to breaking his back falling off a bucking horse.)
“All these guys, they look goofy today, but I can tell you that these are all very talented athletes,” Sisk said. “I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life. I climbed Mount Everest in 1990. I’ve raced dirt bikes. I’ve broken every bone there is to break. But there’s nothing more demanding – physically or mentally – than riding bucking horses. I can’t even describe the adrenaline rush in Denver, getting on the back of one of the elite athletes on the stock side of our event and nodding your head. It’s scary. I’ve been in a lot of scary situations, and still every time I nod my head it gets my adrenaline flowing like no other.”
In other words, no contest.
Staff writer Scott Willoughbycan be reached at 303-820-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
