Remembering Alejandra Franco
By: Madi Deskovick, Skyline Reporter
ALPINE - On that Thursday night, we lost a young soul at our Sul Ross State University college rodeo. I did not know Alejandra Franco personally, but I do know what it’s like to be 20 years old, in college, breakaway roping at college rodeos, and doing your best to navigate life at a young age.
As rodeo athletes, we are often asked why. Why rodeo? Why do you get on horses that weigh 10 times more than you, with minds of their own, and expect them to perform the way you want? Why do you put so much time into a sport that lets you down more often than it lets you win?
I can’t speak for anybody else, but I can tell you that there is no other feeling like it. Most of us have been horseback riders from a young age, and some of us started later. But we all share a love for a sport that isn’t very forgiving. Long drives, late nights, early mornings, money, and time away from friends and family are all part of what we sacrifice to compete.
Ale has been described to me as an amazing human being. Her father, her friends, and everyone who was around her had nothing but good things to say about her. I didn’t see her accident in person. I was in the rodeo secretary’s office helping with paperwork while we watched the rodeo on the Cowboy Channel.
When her purple vest went down, members of our own Sul Ross rodeo team surrounded her, trying to help. In that moment, team pride didn’t matter, the vest colors didn’t matter, and the competition didn’t matter. It was simply a family coming together, concerned about the young girl who was injured. We all stayed busy, waiting and hoping we would hear good news. When she left the arena on the stretcher in the hands of medical professionals, we felt some hope.
The roping box is where your run starts. Before your time starts, you get to breathe, set yourself and your horse up for success, and get ready to start the run you hope to make quickly. We often don’t consider the box dangerous; it’s simply the starting point, and the goal is for it to be the calmest place to be during your run. In this run, though, Ale’s horse reared up, fell back on her, and injured her badly enough to take her life.
No, I didn’t know Ale, but she was one of us. She was a collegiate athlete, breakaway roper, and a 20-year-old girl with a family and friends who cared so much about her.
An hour or so later, a teammate whispered to me that she had died before making it to the hospital. I had nothing to say. I feel things deeply as an empathetic person, and I always try to make the people around me feel comfortable, but in that moment, there was nothing I could say or do to change what had happened.
I went and sat in the stands with my mom and my grandparents, whom I hadn’t seen in over half a year, and watched some of the rodeo with them silently. I quietly told them the news I had received, and we cried together in disbelief.
I was roping in a jackpot later that night, but my saddle felt heavier than it ever had when I put it on my horse. The money in my hand meant to pay my fees felt like more than any amount I had ever spent. There was a quietness in my voice that I had never felt before, especially as I was about to go do what I love.
Why do we do it? Why did we continue the rodeo? Why do we keep getting on these animals and competing in this sport? No combination of words will ever truly explain that feeling. But I can tell you that weekend, we were riding for Ale. There was not a single doubt about it. I no longer wanted to rope to win. I wanted to rope to honor her. Hundreds of kids around Ale’s age, with similar interests, were all trying to get an education while rodeoing and working toward their futures. We were all there. We all heard the news. We leaned on each other, and we prayed hard.
I’m grateful for the friends who have become family throughout my rodeo career. The following night, I was able to pray with some of my best friends right before I roped during the performance. As focused as I tried to be, all I could think about was the girl who had lost her life the night before. I couldn’t stop wondering how things could have been different or thinking about how hard this must be for her family and friends. I missed my calf that night, and yes, I was disappointed, like most athletes are when we don’t perform at our best. But I hugged my family tighter. I spoke to my teammates with more love. And I prayed harder than I have in a long time.
The feeling of backing your horse into the box is hard to explain. It’s adrenaline. It’s nerves. It’s the hope that your hard work is about to pay off. But most of all, it’s knowing we get to do what we love.
While that might sound similar to most sports, I think what makes the rodeo family special is how we look out for each other, no matter what. When one of us is hurting, we all hurt. When one of us succeeds, we celebrate together and for each other. I don’t think any other sport supports its people quite the way ours does. That may be my opinion, but I’ve watched it at every level. Throughout my dad’s pro rodeo career and my own junior years, high school, and college rodeo experiences.
If you ask a college rodeo athlete what they want to do with their life, a lot of us will tell you we want to be good at our event. But life is so much more than that. I want to be a good person. I want to love the Lord with everything in me. I want to be a good horsewoman. I want to treat people and animals well. I want to always hug my family tightly and always speak to my friends with love. I may never understand why this happened to Ale, but I believe she is looking down and watching the impact she has had on so many of us.
Ale will never be forgotten. I often think about her as I ride into the box in my practice arena, the same arena where her accident happened. A girl I never met and never knew personally opened my eyes and inspired me to stop taking things for granted.
Thank you, Ale, for reminding us why we love this sport. Thank you for reminding us to be better people and never take anything for granted. Thank you for leaving such an impact on the rodeo community.
We are praying for your family, and your rodeo family here will never forget you.
I will forever ride for Alejandra Franco.