It looks like rodeo. It smells like rodeo. It was spawned by rodeo. And even
some fans can't help but call it "rodeo."

The Professional Bull Riders tour is not rodeo.

The PBR is NASCAR, with bulls instead of cars. Riders instead of drivers.

Flank straps instead of restrictor plates.

Which means, ready or not, it's not going anywhere - except deeper into the
mainstream and into your unsuspecting life. "I had dinner with (NASCAR
chairman) Brian France a few weeks ago," says PBR chief executive
officer Randy Bernard. "I told him, 'I hope it doesn't offend you, but
we like to ride the shirttails of NASCAR.'"

The PBR even borrows NASCAR's jingoistic American sensibilities, then
tailors them around the lowest common denominators in sports - the
certainty of danger, the possibility of bloodshed.

"No one wants to see it happen," says bull rider Greg Potter,
"but no one wants to miss it, either."

It's no wonder PBR market research shows that 70 percent of its fans
consider themselves NASCAR fans. Only 12 percent are fans of traditional
rodeo.

The PBR's concept is a familiar one. Dissect the most exciting aspect of a
sport and create a new, single-minded event. Give people more to like by
getting rid of the parts they don't. Multiply the parts they do.

Specifically for bull riding, take what's normally a 20- or 30-minute event
tucked at the end of a rodeo and add time, competitors, fireworks, anthem
rock and breathless introductions.

Ratchet up the drama - as if that's really necessary - intrinsic to the
notion of a man clinging to an angry bull for 8 seconds.

Sell tickets.

One problem: One-trick sports rarely make for a better event than the
sports that spawned them.

Otherwise, demolition derbies would be more popular than car racing.
SlamBall - a basketball dunk-fest using trampolines - would be bigger than
the NBA. Offense-minded arena football would be challenging the NFL. We'd
trade baseball for a series of home run derbies.

But the PBR has made it work, quite well, borrowing from NASCAR's business
model and fan base. It now is a rival of the Pro Rodeo Cowboys Association,
which oversees the rodeos that made bull riding popular in the first place.

The PBR's 45-man "Built Ford Tough Series" - the one that
attracted 16,429 to two shows at the Save Mart Center in Fresno, Calif.
last weekend - has siphoned away most of the best riders from the PRCA.
Potter is one of the few with the ability, desire and time-management
skills to excel on both circuits.

Last year, he earned $112,544 competing in the PBR's 29 events. He earned
$144,188 in about 125 PRCA events.

"Anyone who wants to be anybody, this is the place to be," Potter
says. "If you're not here, you want to be here."

The PBR might not be better than rodeo - frankly, rodeo is more charming,
less monster-truck rally, and its mix of events more interesting in some
ways than watching 100 consecutive bull rides over the course of a weekend
- but it has one major advantage.

It's growing.

While overall attendance at the PRCA's hundreds of rodeos has been flat for
years, a million people this year will pay to attend PBR events, including
two minor leagues.

Outdoor Life Network, on delay, shows all the events. NBC televised one
event in 2001. The number grows annually. This year, it will show nine.

And you can't help but wonder if this is what NASCAR felt like a generation ago.

The PBR has spent a decade building a brand, trying to get people to hear
the acronym "PBR" and not think about Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

The focus of the next five years, Bernard says, is to create individual
celebrities. That's the key to NASCAR - recognizable names and faces,
personalities for fans to divide into favorites and rivals.

"It doesn't matter what sport you have - as long as you have stars,
people will follow it," Bernard says.

The show starts. The announcer dedicates the night to the country's
military. Minutes later, a prayer will be read. A giant American flag will
be unfurled, filling the space from the rafters to the floor, practically
dividing the arena in half.

Fuel poured to spell "USA" in the dirt is lit. Introduced one by
one, riders saunter into the arena through a flaming star, accompanied by
rock music, fireworks and the periodic giant flame.

The tour's leaders - the future Tony Stewarts, Jeff Gordons and Matt
Kenseths - get special introductions. They mug stoically for the cameras,
their faces filling the five giant screens in the arena, while the
announcer brags about their credentials.

Then they tip their hat and, like models in Milan, strut across a raised
catwalk and stop, lit by colored spotlights and backed by a techno beat.

Even the baddest bull is brought into the arena, accompanied by brooding
music and lit by a single spotlight. The announcer reverentially calls the
bull "an amazing athlete."

Bernard says the PBR recently signed nine licensing deals to promote the
bulls. On the concourse, you can find miniature stuffed bulls to buy and
cuddle. The tag for 2003 bull of the year "Little Yellow Jacket"
offers all the vitals: age (7 years), weight (1,750 pounds), ride rate
(just seven rides in 49 tries).

The first of 60 bull rides begins. The bull wins. There will be 59 more
rides, most not lasting 8 seconds.

"Our philosophy is, there are two great athletes in every 8-second
ride," Bernard says.

In NASCAR, it's about selling the driver and the car. In PBR, it's all
about the rider and the bull.

The PBR's next trick is to figure out how to slap a sponsor's sticker on a
bull and keep it there.


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