Charro : Thrills of South-of-the-Border Rodeo Come to San Diego

The charros arrived early, parking their pickups and cars in the dusty lot. Soon they were testing their mounts, sprinting and making quick turns on stretches of grass and red dirt amid the parked vehicles.

“She’s nervous today,” said Benny Acosta as he petted his 20-year-old part-Arabian mare, Guera, or Blondie. “She’s old, but she acts like she’s about three years,” he said, calming the prancing horse tethered to his trailer. “She’s funkier than hell. I don’t want to trade her in.”

Riders from throughout Southern California and northern Baja California were on hand here Sunday for the first charro event of the season at a small ring called the Lienzo Cerro San Miguel. La charreria, as the sport is known, is generally referred to in the United States as Mexican rodeo, although enthusiasts say that is a vast oversimplification.

In fact, charro-riding is a sport rich in history and tradition. It encompasses a wide range of intricate riding and roping events, involving horses, bulls and men. The events evolved from colonial Mexico, when Spaniards introduced horses and large landowners called on Indian and mestizo residents to use their riding skills to care for vast ranches and haciendas. The specialized riding skills, charro participants say, spread to the cattle country of Mexico’s northern frontier and were the forerunner of many techniques used by that symbol of the American West, the cowboy.

Like real cowboys and professional rodeo riders, charro participants take their sport very seriously. “You’ve got to be pretty committed,” Acosta said.

And like bullfighting, charro riding is a ritualized spectacle that is seen by enthusiasts as more than a sport, a sometimes-grueling test of skill and courage--and an opportune time for a celebration.

In the United States, the sport is perhaps best-known for its colorful uniforms. From head to toe, riders are decked out in wide-brimmed sombreros, scarfs, leather chaps, vests, jackets, specialized boots and a variety of spurs.

Handmade and carefully crafted, the colorful outfits can set back aficionados a bundle. A wide-brim hat--some are made of jack rabbit hair--can sell for more than $400. Several Tijuana tailors specialize in making the hats, suits and other accessories. Without them, you just can’t be a charro. They won’t let you in the ring.

“When people see the charros, they think we are either the mariachis or the banditos, “ said Evelyn Lopez, a volunteer whose husband heads the local charro group.

Neither comparison is welcomed.

“The mariachis don’t even use real leather,” said Lopez, who was sporting a blue charro culotte suit designed for women.

The sport is popular in Mexico, where there are charro rings throughout the nation and a national federation that oversees activities. North of the border, Chicano communities have kept the charro tradition alive, generally through membership dues and lots of volunteer labor. In San Diego County, there are three charro lienzos, or rings.

The ring along California 94 in Spring Valley, situated in a bowl of land seemingly scooped out of the surrounding foothills below Mount San Miguel, was opened six years ago, officials said. Much of it was built with scrap wood, using the donated labor of members who now support the events with dues and various fund-raising events. They speak proudly of their ring.

“It’s built exactly according to specifications from Mexico,” Lopez noted.

The facility consists of two principal components: a round ring that measures 40 meters across and a 60-meter-long corridor, known as a manga, or sleeve. There is also an adjoining corral where bulls are kept and a small corridor area where bulls are returned to the corral.

All told, there are nine different events, or suertes, performed by the charro riders, including various tests of horse-roping, horse-riding and bull-riding skills. Judges score performances based on a point system. Some events can be dangerous.

One event is known as the paso de la muerte, or pass of death. In it, the charro passes from his horse onto a wild mare.

On Sunday, riders were officially performing only one event, known as the coleadero. In this event, a rider grabs a small running bull by its tail and attempts to flip the animal over. Points are assigned for various maneuvers and the type of fall inflicted on the bull. The 17 participants ranged from men in their late teens or 20s to others in their 60s.

It is not easy. Only a few men managed to flip their bulls successfully. Often, riders ended up with negative scores because they failed to perform mandatory moves such as saluting the judges, patting the bull on the rear, and then grabbing the tail.

“It’s still early in the season; a lot of them are out of practice,” observed Damian Lopez, president of the local association, who also served as a lively announcer and judge.

“Well done, brother!” Lopez said into the microphone after one rider had managed to flip the bull. Generous applause came from the crowd of about 75 seated in the grandstand. Mexican music played on the loudspeaker, adding to the festive atmosphere.

Lopez, at 56, is himself a charro, but he is out of action because of a back injury suffered in an auto accident. “I finished second in our tournament last year,” he added, obviously missing the opportunity to participate Sunday.

After each rider had three passes, the judges declared three men as winners; they were awarded prizes ranging from $100 to $30.

Acosta, a 50-year-old meat cutter who lives in El Cajon, didn’t win any prizes but he didn’t seem discouraged. He packed up, changed clothes, placed his horse in his trailer and drove away in his 1967 Dodge Polara.

At the lienzo , a band began to play norteno music on a nearby platform, couples began to dance and folks sipped at cans of beer, many of them toasting the success of the season’s first charro.