Q. What's the difference between a nine inch pepperoni pizza with mozzarella cheese and a team roper?

A. The pizza can feed a family of four!

It is common at the typical practice arena for ropers to get to know the behavioral traits of the steers, i.e., this one is slow or fast or drags or breaks to the left or ducks his head or sings too loud, chews with his mouth open or can't type more than two words a minute. You get what I mean.

I was running the roping chute one evening. I was waiting for the heeler to peel his rope off a single hock while the header stayed in the saddle and kept his rope tight. Which is how it is often done when dedicated ropers can't beg the wife or kids to work the stripping box. ("The skeeters are too bad" ... "Aw, Dad do we have to?" ... "Are you kidding?! Stand out there in the dust while you and your buddies drink beer and tell moldy jokes! You must think I don't have better things to do! HUMPF!")

Anyway, as I stood there leaning against the rail, I heard murmurs from the alley behind me. As I tuned into the conversation, I realized it was the steers talking to one another. They were discussing the ropers.

"Yeah, the one with no hat that sits on his horse like a broken jack-in-the-box, well, there's no tellin' where he'll throw his loop. One time he caught both my front legs and half my head. The lunatic went to the horn! I summersaulted tail over tea kettle and landed flat on my back! Thank goodness he doesn't catch very often."

"Whoa, now. That big guy on the Clydesdale is as serious as a root canal. And he can rope! But when he turns that bulldozer of a horse you better be ready, 'cause there ain't no give in the line. Lemme trade places with you."

"Here's a free ride. Notice there's no black on his rope. I've never seen him catch. They let him come 'cause he always brings the beer."

"Ah, there's my favorite. He's left-handed and can never get his horse in position. You never know where his loop is comin' from. It's like bein' in a snowball fight. Spot likened it to bein' whipped with a cat-o-nine-tails. I guess I've always felt sorry for him."

"Yeah, it's pitiful sometimes."

"Oh well, we should be thankful. If it weren't for them we'd be shoe leather and insulin shots."