TJ Gray and the Year Everything Changed

There are guys in this sport who win, and there are guys who mean something when they win.

TJ Gray is the second kind.

If you’ve been paying attention to bull riding lately, you already know the surface-level facts: TJ walked into the 2025 Wrangler National Finals Rodeo ranked in the top five, rode 7 out of 10 bulls in Las Vegas, won three rounds, and took home the NFR Bull Riding Average title as well as the Top Gun Award. He finished number two in the world, and by the time the dust settled, he’d stacked a season that didn’t just turn heads—it reset expectations.

But the most important part isn’t the money or the buckles.

It’s how he did it. The way he carried himself. The way he handled pressure. The way he kept showing up with purpose—whether he was walking out of the arena with a round win, or walking out knowing he’d just gotten beat.

TJ is one of those guys that reminds you why this sport matters.

Humble Beginnings

TJ didn’t grow up on some big spread with a full string of horses and a pen of practice bulls out back.

He grew up in Dairy, Oregon on a little two-acre place. TJ’s dad was a heavy diesel mechanic and truck driver—blue-collar through and through. His dad had ridden bulls, but he quit before TJ was born. Still, the sport was in his blood, even if the arena lights weren’t.

TJ’s older brother started riding sheep when he was just a kid, and TJ did what little brothers do—he followed suit. Their town had a local winter series, and for a lot of kids, that’s the kind of opportunity that never comes around. For TJ, it became the foundation of a lasting career.

Calves turned to steers, and steers turned to junior bulls. Because his parents were willing to sacrifice and haul, TJ got to see more than just the local scene. He rode in junior associations and high school rodeo, learning by doing, and learning the hard way—like most of us do.

And here’s the part that people need to hear, especially the young guys: TJ will tell you straight up—he wasn’t always very good.

Not in the fake-humble way. In the real way.

He didn’t have some effortless, natural ability that made it look easy from day one. He had “try hard,” and sometimes that’s the only thing you’ve got when you’re still trying to figure out who you are in the sport. He’ll tell you there were years where it looked like rodeo might not turn into a career at all.

What kept him moving was his people—his parents, his brother, and that steady push to keep going even when the results weren’t showing up yet.

Then somewhere around the middle of high school, something started to change.

The Mental Game

TJ started reading. And not just “I read a book once” reading.

He got into sports psychology early—books like Psycho-Cybernetics—and it mattered. Not because a book magically turns you into a champion, but because it changed the way he saw himself.

He started believing.

At 18, he bought his PRCA permit and did what every young bull rider does: he thought he was about to win everything in sight. Then the sport humbled him, quickly. One good check was  followed by a hard reality check, and TJ learned what every pro learns sooner or later: This game will take everything you have to give. And then it’ll ask for more.

The first few years were a mix of highs and lows. Growth. Setbacks. Injuries. Confidence swings. The whole ride.

And then a turning point showed up in a way most people didn’t see coming.

A Career-Changing Injury

In 2024, TJ injured his wrist in San Angelo. Not a “shake it off” thing. The kind of injury that sits in the background and keeps collecting interest every time you nod your head.

On the drive back to the airport full quiet miles and real thoughts, TJ made a decision: he was done chasing the outcome.

He wasn’t done riding. He was done letting bull riding decide whether he was “worthy” on any given weekend.

That’s a hard thing to say out loud in a sport built on toughness. But it’s real. And it’s honest. And it’s something a lot of guys feel, whether they admit it or not.

TJ decided he was going to enjoy it again. Take the pressure off. Quit making the standings a scoreboard for his value as a man.

And what’s wild is, it didn’t immediately turn into a highlight reel.

He went weeks without making a check after that. It wasn’t instant. It was gradual.

But the shift had already happened. The seed was planted.

And eventually, it grew into what we all watched.

The First Finals

TJ’s first National Finals Rodeo taught him something valuable: the Finals are different.

He went in as a young guy with a lot of confidence, and even if he told himself he wasn’t nervous, those yellow chutes have a way of exposing the truth. Halfway through the week, he started to settle in and have fun. But by then, he’d already given up ground.

And still, he doesn’t talk about it with regret.

He talks about it like it was part of the plan. God’s timing, not his.

Because without that first Finals—without getting his teeth kicked in a little—he doesn’t know if he would’ve been ready to appreciate what came next.

Proof in the Dirt 

TJ’s 2025 season wasn’t clean or perfect, but it was real.

TJ went into the year with a smart approach: pick the right rodeos, don’t beat yourself up at every little one, and capitalize when it matters. There’s a maturity to that. A long-game mindset.

Then June showed up, and he broke his ankle.

He sat out, worked to get back, and returned at Cheyenne—maybe a little early. Physically, he was ready. Mentally, it took longer. That’s the part most people ignore: you can be healed and still not be back.

But TJ didn’t spiral. He didn’t fold. He kept rolling.

And when it was time for Las Vegas, he showed up with the clearest mindset I’ve ever seen from a young contender: no fear of the outcome.

Not because he didn’t care. Because he cared about the right things.

He said it best: there are only so many NFRs you get in your life. You might as well enjoy them while you’re there.

He rode the first two bulls. Then he bucked off three straight. And instead of crumbling, he reset.

He went back to enjoying the day. The locker room. The conversations. The moments.

And then he started stacking rides.

Round wins started coming. Three of the last four go-rounds belonged to TJ. He wasn’t just surviving—he was surging.

By the time it was over, he had seven rides, three round wins, and he’d put himself in a position to take home the Bull Riding Average title and the Top Gun Award.

And he did it while looking like himself the whole time.

“Different.”

You’ve probably heard the chatter about TJ riding “backwards-handed.”

Here’s the real story: it came from necessity.

That wrist injury came with bone spurs and pain that was costing him rides. He tried riding left-handed. It didn’t work. So he adjusted. Not to be flashy. Not to make headlines. To stay on.

TJ will be the first to tell you his body still rides the bull—his hand just has to be tied in. And he’ll also tell you there are pros and cons, and he’d like to eventually fix his wrist and go back to riding traditional.

But here’s what I love: a legend in this sport put it in terms that matter.

He told me, in his words, he can’t even call it “backwards” anymore. He has to call it different—because TJ proved he can get it done.

That’s the kind of respect you don’t earn with hype. You earn it with rides.

Finding Greatness

TJ told me one of the best compliments he’s ever received wasn’t about bull riding. It was someone telling him they could see the Lord working in his life—that he carries himself like a good man and a Christian.

That’s the foundation. That’s what he was raised on: it’s better to be a good man than a good bull rider.

And you see it in the small things—how he treats fans, how he treats kids, how he treats other competitors, how he treats the whole ride as a blessing instead of an entitlement.

He’s got sponsors who believe in him because of that, not just because he can win. Partners like Acumatica (who wrapped the helmet he wore in Vegas), M2 Ranch Jerky (one of his earliest supporters), Konner Wire (family friends who’ve been in his corner), CINCH, and Drop Barrel.

And when he talks about those relationships, it’s not transactional. It’s personal. It’s aligned.

Looking Ahead

TJ isn’t big on “goals.”

He’ll tell you straight: the more goals he sets, the worse it seems to go. He’s not wired that way. He’s more “cowboys don’t plan—cowboys just do.”

But what excites him going forward is simple: improving on top-tier bulls. Getting sharper when it matters most. Raising his percentage against the rankest ones in the world.

That’s the scary part for everybody else.

Because if you watched what he did at the NFR and thought, that was the ceiling… You don’t know TJ. He’s still building.

And if the last year proved anything, it’s this: When TJ Gray is enjoying the ride and fully himself—he’s as dangerous as anybody in the sport.

And he’s only getting started.