Crashing down to Earth

What:The World’s Toughest Rodeo

Where:Xcel Energy Center, 199 West Kellogg Boulevard
Saint Paul

When: Friday February 3, 7:30 p.m.

Saturday, February 4, 7:30 p.m.

Tickets: $17-$80

Anthony Lucia’s round face comes alive in peaks and valleys as he whirls a blurred rope up and down around his body. This “Texas Tornado” is one of his classic rope tricks, and even the old rodeo hands stop to watch as Lucia twists the lariat in spirals faster than any eye could see.

“Don’t look so scared, Jora, you’re making me skittish,” he jokes with an Xcel P.R. representative as he lines her up to lasso. A quick flick of his wrist and the lariat drapes gently over her shoulders — tightening precisely around her waist.

“You ready to try?” he turns his eyes towards me.

Was I ever.

The World’s Toughest Rodeo, on display tonight and tomorrow at the Xcel Energy Center in downtown St. Paul, is a showcase of hard work and dedication that many Minnesotans are unfamiliar with — the cold is one thing, but saddling up on a wild bronco and bull in the same night is quite another. Unlike most other rodeos, the World’s Toughest asks cowboys to compete in multiple events, known colloquially as the “Cowboy Ironman.”

These chap-clad ironboys will compete in barrel races besides riding bulls, saddle-broncs, and bareback steeds (with no protection at all). The competition between riders is not the main draw here, however, because this is not an official P.R.C.A. (Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association) function.  Instead, the focus is on entertainment, on bringing a wild and old-fashioned brand of fun to a potentially unfamiliar Minnesota audience. No one epitomizes this desire for unadorned amusement better than Anthony Lucia, the trick roper chosen to headline the exhibition.

Mr. Lucia grew up in a small town outside of Dallas, Texas to a father who thrived in the rodeo entertainment business. Tommy Lucia's main pull was the animals he brought into his act, especially Whiplash the Cowboy Monkey (look him up. It’s every inch as good as it sounds). Anthony, however, didn’t get involved in his dad’s performance until he found an abandoned rope in the mud after a rodeo. He cleaned off the orphaned lariat and began practicing in his spare time—by age 13 he was opening for local rodeos, and by 23 he was a sponsored professional.

Just two years ago Lucia made it into the semifinals of “America’s Got Talent.” When pressed by the producers to push his act forward he decided to try lighting his ropes on fire, and was an immediate smash (they used his flaming whip in the show’s opening credits long after he was cut). Without a rags-to-riches backstory to buoy him, however, the producers decided to cut him out of the “reality show,” and politely informed him that the judges would be voting him out.

“It was very shady, very backroom. I wasn’t begging on the street by day and roping by night, so they decided they didn’t want me around. I cried a little when they told me I had to go.”

Despite the loss, however, Anthony kept on roping, driven to bigger and more flamboyant shows by the mindset that the “Talent” producers had instilled in him. At one show, however, his flaming lariat came in a little too hot and lit his back on fire. A friend was there to put him out, but not before filling Anthony’s face and mouth with fire extinguisher foam.

“Lemme tell you, kids, if you’re at a party you don’t want to huff any fire extinguisher. It’s like someone crapped in your mouth.  Actually, it’s like someone drank a bunch of cyanide and then crapped in your mouth. It’s the worst.”

After this foul-tasting incident Lucia realized that he didn’t need gimmicks to sell his act, that his talent and connection to the crowd were enough. He cut the fire out of his act, but audiences haven’t seemed fazed—his charisma and skill more than make up the difference.

“I feel like I have a connection to the audience, like I can bring them a great night. It’s all about making them forget whatever happened that day, all of their little trials, and bringing them full-hearted into the moment.”

The whole rodeo seems to run on this premise — if the men and women riding put their hearts and souls into their work, then the audience will ride along with them. Out there on the dirt floor, with a rope in my hand and a smiling cowboy waiting to be lassoed fifteen feet away, I could see where that feeling might come from.