SIKESTON -- A rodeo looks different at 2 a.m.

The stands are littered with soda cups and popcorn bags from departed fans. Oh, a few night owls many be standing around nursing beers, but the cheering is over.

All the action is in the middle of the arena, where slack -- cowboys not drawn to compete in front of the crowd -- may run until dawn.

"OK, bulldoggers, listen up," a female voice slices through the quiet. "Everybody needs to stand off to the left. Skip, you're up."

It's a far cry from the hype announcers dish out during paid performances, when they tell fans about cowboys' hometowns, titles earned and earlier times. This is man against beast, pure and simple, fighting to beat the clock.

Some folks are surprised to hear that events continue long after fans go home, but everyone involved in putting on the show knows about it. Only 10 people in roping, bulldogging and barrel races run during the actual performance, drawn by chance.

Dell Hall, owner of Rafter H Rodeo Livestock in Tahlequah, Okla., provides the bulls, steers and broncos for Sikeston's Jaycees Bootheel Rodeo. His daughter, Shelley Hall, does the after-hours announcing, and his wife, Betty, keeps time.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning he was standing around watching bulldoggers -- 52 in all -- wrestle his steers to the ground one-by-one.

"This is typical for every week," Hall said. "We'll be here two, three, four hours. The slack is pretty heavy tonight and tomorrow night. You can just put so many out during a performance."

At least it's a good time to talk to cowboys who have already made runs and are killing time watching their competitors. They differ on opinion about running after the show, but Todd Cummings said he likes it.

"The noise don't affect the horses, there's no band, you can be more relaxed," he said.

At 32, the Crawfordville, Ind., resident has been bulldogging for 16 years. Now Cummings is ranked seventh in the Great Lakes Circuit. As of 1 a.m. Thursday morning, he was leading the competition in Sikeston.

Through the week he's an auctioneer. For Cummings, it's a good idea to have a day job.

"If you miss, it's $250 down the drain," he said, referring to the entry fee. "But you take a chance at winning. A lot of it is the luck of the draw."

It's the gamble that keeps many competitors interested, including 19-year-old Garrett McMurray of Sparta, Mo. He's one of the younger people on the circuit, but McMurray decided long ago to make rodeo his career.

"I love it," he explained with a shrug. "It's different every night."

McMurray missed his steer Thursday morning, but would have another chance either late Thursday or early today. He and his horse, Wishbone, will be at another rodeo in Ashland by tonight and then in Sidney, Iowa, by Saturday night.

By the end of the year, the teen will have competed in 50 to 80 rodeos.

Talk to a few more cowboys and it is easy to see that rodeo is more of an addiction than a job. For many competitors it is in the genes, because their fathers and grandfathers rode bulls or wrestled steers.

Perhaps the best example is Butch Myers, one of the top bulldoggers in the country. He has three kids: Rope, Tygh and Cash. Really.

Now Rope is touring -- he competed in Sikeston's bulldogging event during slack.