Mauney attributes his mastery to an extreme volume of practice. Before turning pro, he got on bulls daily, and even twice on Sundays. He believes most aspiring riders today are unwilling to put in the sheer amount of work required to reach the top.

Mauney contrasts himself with a naturally gifted peer who looked graceful on a bull. Mauney, on the other hand, was clumsy and incorrect. His only advantage was a stubborn refusal to let go until he was knocked out, forcing him to outwork everyone to succeed.

Mauney dismisses riders who blame a tough bull for a failed ride. He states that the job description is "bull rider," which doesn't specify "nice bulls only." This mindset of radical ownership means accepting the challenge presented, regardless of its difficulty.

Mauney avoids over-analyzing a bull by watching videos, preferring to rely on pure instinct. He believes that in high-reaction environments, conscious thought is too slow and leads to fatal hesitation. Success comes from gut feelings honed by thousands of hours of practice.

JB Mauney admits the only time he got nervous was after the 8-second whistle because he had to figure out how to dismount. His landings were so poor that bullfighters joked about them, highlighting that even experts have distinct areas of weakness within their domain.

Mauney’s philosophy was to never settle. If he was in second place with a guaranteed score, he would still risk it all to try for first. This "gunslinger" mindset was driven by an internal need to prove to himself that he was the best, not just to beat competitors.

Most riders get set, then nod, allowing smart bulls to brace for the gate opening. Mauney reversed this: he would nod for the gate *while* sliding into position. This subtle change in sequence caught the bull off guard, preventing it from getting into its "starting blocks."

Mauney follows and teaches an old-school rule: no matter how badly you're hurt, you get up and walk out of the arena. Inside the competitive space, you must project toughness. Only once you've passed through the gate can you allow yourself to show vulnerability or pain.

When Mauney landed on his head during his final ride, he wasn't initially worried. However, the moment he tried to lift his head to look up, he felt a distinct sensation and immediately knew his neck was broken, a grim awareness born from a career of injuries.