O’Doherty: The Cowboy’s Prayer
A haze from multiple wildfires across the Western Slope created a smoky veneer over the usually bulging mountain landscape. The relief of Sam’s Knob ahead of Garrett Peak loomed over the Snowmass Village construction cranes like a ghost in a machine. As quick 10-second pulses of Toby Keith, Kriss Kross, and Queen played over a crowd of prêt-à-porter denim-clad cowboys surrounding a dirt oval, I thought maybe the smoke wasn’t coming from the San Juans. The smoke was coming from the absolute fire that is the Snowmass Rodeo.
I stood on an old, fallen, rusty shovel that leveraged against the freshly painted silver fencing. My nose could smell nothing but manure, piled around me in distinct colors of black, brown, and bright grass green. I was right on the fencing closest to the all-dirt epicenter. My mind was abuzz — even amidst the canon of the Western introduction: God Bless the USA → Star-Spangled Banner → The Cowboy’s Prayer (for courage, honor, and protection, according to any large language model.)
Now that I had the soundtrack, smell, and space, how could I capture the unadulterated vibe, visages, and voices? My voice memo captured ace rodeo ring announcer and Western Slope wise man Branden Edwards, while Apple’s cinematic video photography app tracked the animals and athletes.
It must be documented: The Snowmass Rodeo will leave you undistracted and in the moment for nearly two unimaginable hours. No artificial intelligence required. All your senses will come alive. Especially your taste buds with Conundrum Catering on the BBQ.
‘Here we go!’ Jacoby Campbell — The Texan.
The rider’s cowboy hat hit escape velocity just as the bronco pen opened and his head immediately thrashed back against the hind of the horse. Campbell’s head hit the horse’s backside 11 times in less than 10 seconds — riding the bronco straight at me — his right hand clutching the saddle. That means you can say “CTE” at least three times out loud before the rough ride ends. It was the greatest professional sports moment I ever caught on camera. I was wincing — and almost drooling with fascination — as Jacoby was thrown into the fencing before me. Power. Balance. Commitment. No helmets required. And now we have it forever in my AI-juiced iPhone.
‘It’s eight seconds that will change your life.’
The epiphany rang true — my first moment of inattention to the ring. I looked to store the Jacoby video with ChatGPT. Serendipitously, the last stored video was of the police and ranchers chasing after the escaped Snowmass Bull last week. Then it clicked — who is who in the human-AI rodeo? Are we the rider? Or the ridden? Who has the power? And when?
When it comes to this AI rodeo, something tells me that in two years, I am not gonna be the mammal wearing the cowboy hat like Jacoby Campbell.
But I don’t have time to hallucinate about AI when ring director Jim Snyder is bringing us his rodeo reality. Jim and his gang bring humor, character, joy, and salvation in the rodeo moment.
‘This ain’t church. You can hoot, holler, stomp your feet. We want to hear you.’
The denim-and-buckle-strapped affair is electric with people. And I gotta say: They’re some damn good-looking people. They are from all over the world — especially Texas and California — on this night. The “Pick-Up Men” look like the high Cardinals of Cowboys. But unlike any Cardinal, these handsome cowboys might just inadvertently “pick up” your wife. That fencing ain’t just for animals — it’ll save your dang marriage from all these cowboys.
‘Rodeo cowboys are different. They don’t have insurance. They don’t have agents. They don’t have excuses.’
While I couldn’t wait for the “spectator events,” like the 4-to-10 year olds scrambling after calves or the oxymoronic “burro racing,” Aspen grandparents Ronnie and Karen were here to recapture the glory of their son Kyle’s first Mutton Bustin’ event 30 years ago. Now, it’s with their adorable 3-year-old grandson — Kyle’s son, Grayson. This young cowboy is a Pick-Up Man in waiting.
Then a break in the action. A small sheep tried to find a way out of the pen and off the reservation. The commotion in the pen then started to feel like a bubble of care. The cowboys quickly collaborated and communicated to get the sheep safely back to the pen. The sheep was not as savvy as that old bull that left the premises this past week. But ring announcer Edwards was right. Rodeo cowboys are different: gentle and caring.
I wondered: Will AI have the courage to treat me as well as the cowboys treated their sheepish charge? Will AI honor my tender hoof when I make a break to escape the matrix? Will our nation’s own AI developers protect our future with the same care and safety these cowboys give their beautiful animals?
As cowboys — we pray.
As the rodeo ended, I looked down near my feet. There was a calf on the other side of the fence. He had that look I get after a long night on Instagram.
Alas, on his broad nose, the eerie, long tear trail … goes on … forever.
Like the ghost in the machine.
Damian O’Doherty is a Snowmass Village dad. A founding partner of KO Public Affairs, he works at the intersection of community, culture, politics, media, and technology, helping clients stay ahead of what’s coming next. He may be reached at do@kopublicaffairs.com.
