Chronicle of a Brazilian journalist who crossed the continent to witness eight seconds of truth at the 78th Cloverdale Rodeo

By Sandra Martins | Cowboy Magazine
Cloverdale, British Columbia, Canada — May 2026

I wasn't supposed to be there.

There was no credential around my neck. No formal invitation in my inbox. No protocol stating that a Brazilian journalist, carrying a camera and an absurd dream of telling the rodeo's story to the world, had the right to stand in that corner of the arena, feeling the ground tremble beneath her feet every time a bronc exploded out of the chute.

And yet, there I was. Because rodeo — the real one, the one that exists beyond press releases and manufactured controversies — has always had room for those who arrive with respect. And Cloverdale welcomed me as if I belonged.

I was just another face in that crowd. No credential, no high-end equipment, no name on anyone's list. But all it took was saying my name, my profession, the country I came from — and taking a single photograph. Just one. A photo that said everything words could not: that here was someone who breathed arena, who lived rodeo, who carried it in her blood in a way that cannot be learned or forgotten. Because there is something the western world recognizes instantly — authenticity. And "Brazilian" as a surname, on a sports journalist, is a passport no official credential can issue. A well-taken photograph, even without the proper equipment, works true miracles when the person behind the camera has already been inside the arena. And from that moment on, I was able to work every single day. Because for those who have breathed rodeo once in their lives — once a professional, always a professional. You don't unlearn it. You don't forget it. You can't fake it.

I. The Smell

Before you see anything, you feel it. The smell of Cloverdale is a declaration of principles: earth dampened by British Columbia's morning dew, leather that has seen a thousand arenas, the sweat of a horse freshly brushed, and something more — something that has no name in any language, but that anyone who has ever set foot in an arena recognizes immediately. It is the smell of truth. Of the real thing. Of life unedited, unfiltered, unpackaged for consumption.

In a world that sells artificial experiences for $200 a ticket, Cloverdale smells like authenticity. And that, in 2026, is revolutionary.

II. Layton Green's Eight Seconds

There is a fraction of time — between the moment the chute opens and the moment the buzzer sounds — where everything a human being has built in life is reduced to a single question: can you hold on?

Layton Green held on. Three times. Perfect.

Ninety and a half points on "Double Red" — a horse that does not forgive mistakes, that does not offer second chances, that exists to test the limits of what a human body can endure in synchrony with 1,300 pounds of raw force.

I was less than twenty meters away when Green dismounted. I saw his face. There was no arrogance. No posing for cameras. There was something I have only seen before in the eyes of athletes who know — with the quiet certainty of those who truly live what they do — that they have just touched perfection.

The crowd erupted. But Green already knew before them. The body knows. The horse knows. The arena knows. The scoreboard is merely the late confirmation of what the dust had already written in the air.

$25,000 and the Cloverdale spurs. But what Green truly took home doesn't fit in a check.

III. Jake Gardner and the Question Nobody Asks

Everyone wants to know how long a cowboy stays on the bull. Eight seconds. That's the easy answer. The answer that fits in a headline, a tweet, a fifteen-second reel.

But the question nobody asks is: how long does a cowboy THINK before he climbs on?

I watched Jake Gardner in the minutes before his ride. The vest reading "Pozzy 23". The hands that opened and closed rhythmically, as if conversing with his own muscles. The eyes that looked at nothing — and looked at everything.

Gardner is a three-time Canadian champion and top 10 in the PRCA world standings. From Fort St. John, BC — a town most Brazilians couldn't find on a map, but one that produced one of the greatest bull riders in Canadian history.

Eighty-nine points on "Devils Advocate". The bull's name is already a statement: devil's advocate. And Gardner faced him the way one faces an argument — with intelligence, timing, and the absolute refusal to yield.

When he dismounted — whole, alive, victorious — he embraced fans at the gate as if they were family. Took photos with children. Smiled with the simplicity of someone who doesn't need a PR team to be human.

$26,333. But what stayed with me wasn't the number. It was understanding that the cowboy who does not bow to the bull — who faces 2,000 pounds of fury without lowering his head — would kneel if he had to, just to put a smile on a child's face. Because that is what rodeo produces: men who know the difference between strength and brutality, between courage and arrogance.

Gardner is not just a three-time Canadian champion and top 10 in the PRCA world standings. He is proof that the western way builds character — not just champions.

IV. Sloan McFarlane and the Courage of Being New

She had never set foot in Canada.

I repeat: never. First time. College freshman. From Wilder, Idaho — a town with fewer than a thousand people. And she came to Cloverdale — BC's Biggest Rodeo — and won.

15.74 seconds. Three barrels. A horse she knows better than any map. And the irrational, beautiful, necessary courage of someone in her early twenties who believes — genuinely believes — she belongs at the top.

Sloan McFarlane didn't ask permission. Didn't wait her turn. Didn't play politics with anyone. She entered the arena in leopard print — as if to say "notice me" — and left with $25,000 and a title that ten-year circuit veterans would give anything to have.

This is what barrel racing is becoming: a sport where youth is not a disadvantage — it's fuel. Where a girl from Idaho can cross an international border and prove that talent doesn't respect passports.

V. Cooper Filipek — Yellow Turned to Gold

In yellow. The color of sun, of ripe corn, of gold that doesn't yet know it's gold.

Cooper Filipek came from the college circuit with the hunger of someone who hasn't yet learned to be afraid. Eighty-nine points on "Lawless" — a horse whose name is a mission statement: no law, no rules, no mercy.

Bareback riding is, perhaps, the most brutal discipline in rodeo. There is no saddle. There is no stirrup. There is only one hand, a rigging, and the insane decision to hold on to an animal that desperately wants you gone.

Filipek held on. And won.

$25,000 for a kid who, two years ago, was competing in college rodeos. The pipeline works. Canada is producing champions. And Cloverdale is the stage where they reveal themselves.

VI. The Women Who Defy Gravity

There is a moment — and I swear I saw this happen in real time — when Shelby Pierson is in the air. Not on the horse. In the AIR. Between the animal's back and the British Columbia sky, suspended by nothing but her own courage and muscles trained to make the impossible look inevitable.

In red. Always in red. Like a flame that refuses to go out.

Six-time Act of the Year in Pro Rodeo Canada. A veteran of Calgary, Houston, Cheyenne. And yet, when I saw her at Cloverdale, there was in her eyes the same hunger of a newcomer. The same need to prove — not to others, but to herself — that the body still obeys, that the art still lives, that gravity can still be defeated.

And then came Noémy Coeurjoly. From Quebec. Dark-haired. Red dress. Standing on TWO horses.

Roman Riding. The oldest discipline. The most dangerous. The most absurdly beautiful.

One foot on each back. Two animals weighing 1,100 pounds each, galloping in sync, while a woman weighing less than 130 pounds stands upright like a living statue, long reins in hand, smiling — SMILING — as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

It isn't. It is the most extraordinary thing I have ever seen in an arena. And I have seen many arenas.

Pierson and Coeurjoly are not "halftime entertainment." They are living proof that the western world doesn't merely accept women — it CELEBRATES them. With the same reverence, the same admiration, the same respectful silence it dedicates to the cowboys in the chutes.

VII. What Cloverdale Taught Me

I come from a country where rodeo generates $50 billion a year. Where Barretos attracts one million people. Where the cowboy is a folk hero and the arena is a temple.

And still, Cloverdale taught me something new.

It taught me that greatness is not measured in prize money. That a $25,000 rodeo can have more soul than a $2 million one. That when the three-time Canadian bull riding champion kneels in the dirt to speak to a child, the sport is fulfilling its most important function — not to entertain, but to INSPIRE.

It taught me that 82,000 people don't go to a rodeo to see violence. They go to see COURAGE. To remember that there is something in the human spirit that refuses to be tamed. Something that needs dirt, risk, truth — and cannot find it anywhere else.

It taught me that Canada — this country the world sees as polite, cold, and urban — has a western heart that beats with the same intensity as my Brazil. Different in form. Identical in essence.

VIII. To Those Who Protest Outside the Gates

A personal note. An opinion. Because journalism without opinion is public relations, and I didn't come here for that.

Outside the Cloverdale arena, as outside Calgary, Cheyenne, Barretos — there is always someone with a sign. Someone who has never been inside. Who has never seen the veterinarian examine every animal before and after every performance. Who has never seen a cowboy cry over an injured horse. Who has never seen the climate-controlled stables, the fresh water, the monitored nutrition, the care — yes, CARE — with which these animals are treated.

These animals are athletes. They are treated like athletes. Often, better than human athletes.

Meanwhile, the same society that protests against eight seconds of bronc riding wears leather shoes that last one season. Eats meat every day. Ignores the industry that kills millions of animals per year without a name, without a story, without anyone watching.

Rodeo is the ONLY place where the animal has a name. Has a story. Has fans. Has retirement. Has elite veterinary care.

"Double Red." "Devils Advocate." "Lawless." These are not numbers on a production line. They are athletes with careers, with records, with legacies.

If you want to protest animal suffering, go protest at the door of an industrial slaughterhouse. Go protest at Paris Fashion Week. Go protest at the shoe factory that discards leather like trash after six months.

But don't tell me that the cowboy who dedicates his entire life to the care of his horse is the villain of this story. Because I was there. I saw it. And what I saw was love.

IX. The Numbers (Because Facts Matter)

Event	Champion	Result	Prize
Saddle Bronc	Layton Green	90.5 points	$25,000
Bull Riding	Jake Gardner	89 points	$26,333
Barrel Racing	Sloan McFarlane	15.74 seconds	$25,000
Bareback	Cooper Filipek	89 points	$25,000
Trick Riding	Shelby Pierson	Specialty Act	—
Roman Riding	Noémy Coeurjoly	Specialty Act	—

Attendance: 82,000+ (all-time record)
Edition: 78th Cloverdale Rodeo | 135th Country Fair
Dates: May 15-18, 2026
Venue: Cloverdale Fairgrounds, Surrey, BC, Canada
Presented by: Cloverdale Rodeo & Country Fair Association

X. Gratitude

To the Cloverdale Rodeo, which welcomed me without owing me anything. Which opened doors without demanding credentials. Which let me feel the ground shake, the crowd roar, and the dust rise — as if I belonged.

Perhaps I do. Perhaps every Brazilian who loves rodeo belongs in any arena in the world where a cowboy climbs into a chute and decides, once more, that eight seconds are worth an entire lifetime.

Thank you, Cloverdale. I promise that the story I tell here is worthy of what you gave me.

"Where dust meets glory and eight seconds can change a life forever."

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Sandra Martins is a journalist, photographer, and editor of Cowboy Magazine. A Brazilian based in Canada, she covers professional rodeo across the Americas with the conviction that the western sport is the last frontier of authenticity in a world that has forgotten what is real.

📷 Photographs: Sandra Martins / Cowboy Magazine
📷 Bareback (Cooper Filipek): Kyle Baines
🌐 www.cowboymagazine.com.br

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