J.B. Mauney might earn $1 million in eight seconds this weekend.
The Mooresville native has dreamed of this since he was a little boy riding sheep, a child riding calves and then a teenager riding bulls: winning the World Championship on the Professional Bull Riders circuit.
"The money is great - that's a bonus - but everybody does it for the chance to say you're the best bull rider in the world," said Mauney, 22.
He's competing against the world's best bull riders this week in Las Vegas. The final championship round is Sunday and Mauney was in first place in the competition's point average Wednesday. He rode Thursday, but his scores weren't available by deadline. He's scheduled to compete again tonight.
Mauney's already won more than $1 million over his four-year professional career, but the championship has eluded him so far.
Four years ago, he was PBR's Rookie of the Year. Three years ago, he finished third in the World Championship; two years ago, second.
This is his year, Mauney said. "It's something I've wanted my whole life."
The thrill of the ride got in Mauney's blood early. "It's all I've ever done," he said. Mauney started riding sheep when he was 3 years old. "And once you start, it's hard to stop."
Mauney, who graduated from Lake Norman High School, lives on a Mooresville ranch with his parents, older sister and her husband, Shane Proctor, who is also a professional bull rider. Proctor was ranked 17th Thursday in the finals.
Riding has always been a family affair for Mauney. His father, Tim Mauney, was a steer rider. He was trained by one of his father's best friends, Mike Laws, a former amateur bull rider.
"Drive and desire make champions, and he's got it," said Laws, who remembers Mauney's fierce determination to be the best and reaction to criticism of his riding.
"It bothered him," Laws said. "He'd get mad, but he'd fix it."
The family has about 30 bulls on their ranch now. Proctor and Mooney say there's no tension in their relationship as competitors.
"It's really not a competition to win; we both want to see each other do well," Proctor said. "J.B.'s been succeeding real good, so I'm just hanging in there."
The motion of a ride is automatic and graceful to Mauney. "You don't think about it - it's like dancing. The bull makes a move, and I make a move. It's all reaction."
But whatever grace there is in the sport is tempered by the immense danger.
In 2005, a bull stepped on Mauney's stomach after a ride, leaving him with a lacerated liver, broken ribs, bruised kidneys and spleen and internal bleeding. He was sidelined for four months.
Since then, he hasn't had any serious injuries. "I tore some ligaments and stuff in my collarbones and knees," he said. "Minor stuff."
At his mother's insistence, Mauney wears a helmet when he rides.
As much as he loves the rush, Mauney knows he'll have to give it up one day, probably sooner than he'd like. Most bull riders' careers end by their early 30s. Mauney hopes to raise bucking bulls after he retires from riding them.
"Whether you want to stop or not, your body makes you," he said.
If Mauney's body can hold out for eight seconds on an angry, 1,000-pound animal Sunday, he might win it all.
Eight seconds: That's how long the rider must stay on the bull to get a score that counts.
Said Mauney: "Sometimes it goes by really quick, and sometimes, if you're having trouble, it feels like eight days."








