It took two tries to get the dirt right. When the cowboys said no to the first attempt, it was removed and replaced, then packed by a tractor and levelled into place by a small team of men with shovels.
When they finished, they had a pancake-smooth crust of hoof-friendly earth, a little wedge of rodeo heaven stacked on top of a parking lot in Shanghai. The 10-gallon hats of those who came to inspect it made for a jarring contrast to the next-door China pavilion, the brilliant red-inverted pyramid designed as a symbolic nod to an Oriental crown during the Shanghai Expo.
On Friday, it will be the backdrop to the International Barrel Horse Federation World Cup, with 24 countries competing over three days in a sport that, until a few years ago, was almost completely unknown in China. Now, with the help of a Canadian cowpoke, some fat Chinese bank accounts and Mongolian riders who declare themselves the descendants of Genghis Khan, it's beginning to grab a foothold.
Getting rodeo to China hasn't been easy, with a series of high-profile failures that have, among other problems, left a herd of bucking bulls in the country with no one to ride them.
But the wandering appetites of the country's super rich have found in barrel racing the allure of owning finely bred horses matched with a chance to stage a potentially profitable audience-grabbing sport.
People have told Chu Wen, the man who calls himself "the father of Chinese barrel racing," that China "has no horse culture." But then, until a few years ago it didn't have basketball or soccer cultures, either. Maybe, he figured, horses could catch on, too.
Barrel racing offered an easy way in to competitive equestrian sports, with simple rules, adrenaline-boosting speed that might prove popular with spectators and horses that could be bought for a fraction the cost of a thoroughbred.
Mr. Chu, who made his money designing and engineering highways, doesn't ride, but does have a nose for a windfall. If the Calgary Stampede could bring out 1.4 million people in a country of 35 million, he says, think what he could do in China, where Beijing and Shanghai alone have more people.
"It's going to win me money," he said in English, laughing. Then he added, in Chinese: "But I also like horses."
Mr. Chu convinced others barrel racing had a future in China, and in 2008 Yu Luzhong, a Qingdao real estate development magnate, flew to Verona, Italy, for a World Cup event. The champion was Chris Blane, a native of Brantford, Ont. Mr. Yu offered him a job on the spot.
"I said, 'I'll do it, but I want to go home first,'" Mr. Blane recalled. "He said, 'No no. Don't go home.'"
A few days later, Mr. Blane found himself in a world where a decision to buy a $55,000 horse was made on a whim. When he protested that he didn't like Chinese food, his new boss flew in a Western chef to make steak, bacon and eggs to a cowboy standard. (Mr. Yu's Qingdao stable complex also features a five-star restaurant.)
Language was a problem, of course. Even today, the Canadian can't pronounce the names of the riders he trains. So he calls them Whitey, Crazy and Mr. Butter. The linguistic failings were two-sided: Mr. Yu speaks "no English at all, except for a couple bad words I taught him," Mr. Blane said. Out with the horses, however, "it's amazing how much the language disappears," he said. "I can teach you by feel."
Cultural issues proved trickier. The Chinese riders Mr. Yu hired wanted rigorous training every day, thinking "practice makes perfect." But riding a horse too often and too hard can be disastrous. "They get hotter and hotter, and you wreck them," Mr. Blane said. Mr. Yu has now hired two vets from Germany.
More difficult still has been working in a country whose officials have shown little love for rodeo.
In 2011, Richard and Carrie Tucker laid plans for an extravagant introduction they called "Rodeo China." The South Carolina couple, retired from an apparel empire built in part by trademarking "Don't Mess with Texas," booked the Bird's Nest, the marquee Olympic venue, and grabbed the endorsement of action star Jackie Chan. They set an eye-popping $8-million purse and planned an eight-day competition, a nod to the wealth connotations of "eight" in Chinese. They bought bulls in Australia and horses in the U.S. – 153 of which were quarantined and assembled in Lexington, Ky., for their flight to China.
A week before the stock was about to leave, the Chinese government cancelled the event, after an outcry from groups who decried what they saw as rodeo's mistreatment of animals. China famously has no law against animal cruelty, and the decision came as a shock to the organizers. They were out a lot of money, too. "Several million dollars have been spent – several millions. And it has been funded totally by my husband and [me]," said Ms. Tucker.
This year saw a repeat. The Professional Bull Riders promised to make history with a three-city Chinese tour and an $8-million purse. The bulls were delivered, and the riders got visasstamped in their passports. Organizers spent months training Chinese to ride, eager to please the hometown crowd. Then the tour was cancelled, with promoters blaming China's war on corruption for making local officials skittish. The bulls remain on Chinese soil, with no competition to attend.
It is, then, something just short of a miracle that barrel racing has managed to take root in China. It remains small, with just 200 horses, 300 riders, some eight large stables and about the same number of big domestic competitions each year.
The profits Mr. Chu is after haven't yet arrived. The Shanghai event will cost nearly $1-million to stage, which the $185 tickets for 1,200 seats won't cover. But the talent is developing. "It won't be more than five years" before a Chinese barrel racer cracks the worldwide top three, Mr. Chu predicted.
Consider Tekesibai, a 24-year-old rider who, like most of the best horsemen in China, is Mongolian. "We are the offspring of Genghis Khan," said Tekesibai, who goes by one name. He grew up in the northern mountains of Xinjiang, the sprawling western territory of China where even today riders on horseback drive cattle over the nearby border with Russia.
The first time he saw barrel racing, he was hooked by the adrenalin, and the feeling of affinity with cowboy culture. "Xinjiang is very much like the western U.S.," he said.
With Mr. Blane as a trainer, he quickly progressed. He once ran a 15.3-second, nearing the time required for a world championship top-20 finish.
"We started quite late," Tekesibai says. "But our skills aren't that far off from the rest of the world."
Nathan VanderKlippe