Cowboyitis

“Cowboyitis” strikes down men and women of all ages, educational backgrounds, and professions. The stockbroker, insurance agent, and college professor are as likely to be victims as the truckdriver, construction worker, or cab driver. This social disease is epidemic both east and west of the Rocky Mountains and the telltale symptoms are are well known. The stricken soul comes home from a hard day at work and slips into his faded Levis (preferably a size or two too small) and shiny Tony Lama boots. With an oversized Stetson daringly tilted back on his head he settles into an overstuffed easy chair, lights up a Marlboro, flips open a tall can of Coors, and watches the Denver Broncos brutalize some hapless opponent on the television.

He owns a horse, a Morgan filly named Funquest Siri, and soon he'll own a ranch near Kansas City (he won't say where). Moreover, Brett has the chafed fanny and blistered memories of riding a real roundup back to his claim. It's not unreasonable to credit some of Brett's cowboyitis for his more relaxed personality since the baseball strike ended.

Seth laughed. "We must be nuts—we spend all day looking at the south end of a northbound cow!" Ben give a half-smile. "Well, my dad's never cared much about money." "Course not. He's here for the same reason as me and all the rest. We've all been bit by the same bug—we've got cowboy-i-tis."