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"Bucky the Bull"
by Shannon Dunn

I'll have to admit, by Saturday evening, I was a wreck. I was stressed out, emotional and frustrated. I had really felt like I had made a poor decision to do something that I could not afford in terms of money, energy and time. I was also having difficulty accepting that so much hard work had gone into an event that disappeared before I could even grasp it. It was if the late fall heat had vaporized the moment I had anticipated for months, and quickly it was gone. I felt burned, until tonight.

After a long day recuperating, I decided to have a look at the Red Bull Flugtag site. Maybe I would take a gander at the results or what not. To my surprise, photos of Saturday's mayhem were already posted. Passing through the photos started to give me a different perspective: that of the spectator. I was so intensely involved in the building, planning, working, shaping, practicing, and preparing that I could not fathom the relaxed and entertaining point of view the audience was enjoying.

Clicking the next button over and over, I was able to see photos of the crafts and skits that, on Saturday, breezed by on a far off jumbotron as we waited in line with our big bull. The winning team was well represented in the photos. They did have quite a spectacular flight and deserved to win on the criteria of distance. It's hard to beat a human powered machine that can hurl a man 62 feet through the air. I saw a couple of great pictures of Snoop-Dog's House. Micheal, the pilot for that team, has a great pose in mid-air. With one leg fully extended, he looks as if he is posing for the Heisman trophy instead of competing in a flying contest. There were some great photos of good teams but finally I came to a photo of our giant red bull bucking Brian Bennett into the bay and only one thought came to mind: "WOW, That is so fucking beautiful!"

Excuse the swearing and the boasting, but honestly, I could not have been more proud while looking at that picture. My emotions, which had started slowly turning Saturday night, came a about face. The negativity faded away, the frustrations melted and I was beginning to see the true value of this endeavor. Even though it lasted a conscience-blurring two-minutes, I will take this with me for the rest of my life. It's a testament to what four guys can do with lumber, fabric, a teeter board and plenty of help from friends and family. It has been truly cool.

The bull started innocuously enough and grew into something much bigger than we had possibly imagined. It grew hungry for our time, money, energy, and our minds. In the end, after many nights practicing, a few interviews, and countless little flesh-eating snippets of wire to hold it all together, we achieved third place, but what counted to me more was that we were the crowd favorite and no one else seemed to come even close. All day long, people stopped by to take a picture with the bull. They wanted to touch it, see it move, ride it, get inside it, and many wanted to play with its balls (strange but true!). While we slowly moved through the hanger area, people followed the bull as if they were following a prophet. Jumbotron interviews revealed fans claiming our bull as their favorite. It quickly became apparent to the team that we had created a celebrity. When asked in the future of their memories of the 2003 San Francisco Flugtag, many people will remember many things, but I am confident when I say that more memories will be of our bull than anything else.

Many of those memories will be of a menacing, 12 foot tall, bright red bull, perched broadly atop the flight deck, smoke billowing from it's nostrils. However, the endearing solitary image for me will be that of 4 am Friday morning. After a night of working, we were leaving the contest area for a couple hours sleep before returning at 7:30 for a television interview. As we were driving away I looked back to see the creation of our efforts standing silently on an empty tarmac. A single bright lamp from above lighted its bright red fur against a misty dark backdrop. We all exited the car and stood for a moment. It started to become vividly real to me then that this thing was taking a life of its own.

This seeming realness, this errant will to place human personality on wood and fabric has now created a problem. I think Dave Cervenka justly called it,"separation anxiety." The thought of tossing the bull into the junk heap feels reprehensible. We made a plea to enter the bull in the Flugtag Miami, but we know the chances are slim. He sits now where he was created, in the driveway at the end of Kathy Court. Soon the time will come to bid adieu to the bull. I will be reluctant and sad, but will dutiful do so. To hold onto him in his present state would be a little ridiculous. If we're lucky, he'll find a second life as an arbor, or a playground set or maybe even firewood.

And alas, the story will be over, but I'm grateful and I'm happy. What began as a simple little suggestion became one of the funnest, and coolest experiences I have had.

I will miss our bull... would anyone like to buy him?

HEY! So much thanks goes out to these people:

• The boys on the team, Double B and the Daves
• Sergey: EVERBODY should have someone like this guy in their corner, THE BEST!
• My Mom: the skins, sashes, input, support and so much more
• Don: 6-8-10, the bull's home and all access to all the tools we needed and so much more
• Kathy: skins, sashes, game day support
• Dirk: taking the bull on his first trip and helping all that day
• Kevin: welding and input that made the bull half the weight we planned for
• Kim and Alicia Cervenka: game day support
• Acrosports & Dorrie: training facility, coaching ICW,
• Brian: casters so the bull could run
• Discount Fabric, Linda: discounted the discount on the fur
• 84 Lumber
• Pier 23
• The Little Shamrock patrons
• Coach Kinney and John Johnson
• Al Dickson: RedBull pilot liaison, was pulling for us all the way
• Karyn: RedBull, I don't know her job but she did it well
• Lots of others at RedBull, couldn't possibly name them all
• John and Chris at Tech TV
• Vern Glen and KRON
• Everybody who came out to support us, we appreciate it
• If I didn't name you, send me a terrible e-mail. I mean it.
• Finally a personal thanks to Erin, who not only helped out, but put up with a big, red, furry bull getting more of my time than her.

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