"Cowboy up," he heard 'em call as he settled in for his ride. "Okay, boys!" he hollered back and with all other thoughts aside, He came out of that chute like a bat out of hell; he would make history today. He knows he can go the eight seconds, but when he's done, can he walk away? That chute is sacred ground to most where only few have dared to tread. He knows pride goes before the fall so he would count on his wits instead.

For him, it is not the fame and fortune that holds his spirit true. If respect is earned through sweat and tears then he has surely paid his dues. He was flirting with disaster with each and every ride. Some may call it rodeo but others call it suicide. For some, the price you pay is high, but tradition outweighs the cost. Where would rodeo be today without the likes of Thurman and Frost?

He rode for all he was worth that day and in his heart, he had no doubt They were smiling down on him because that's what it's all about. If he left with some change in his pocket when all was said and done And a buckle of gold to hold up his Wranglers, he would feel he had truly won. For he knew it was only destiny that stood between him and each win. He would show them his pride, make his ride and then hit the road again.

Thunder rolled through the grandstands that day as he picked himself up off the ground. He had captured another world title... he had won the last go round. When his final ride was over, and memories were all that remain, He would look back on themfondly and recall the love of the game. Then one day he would close his eyes and take his final breath, But he would always be remembered for his life and not his death,

Because a cowboy as tough as Jim Shoulders will never truly die, He will ride another bull someday in the rodeo in the sky.