George Strait could barely find the words, let alone hold back the tears, as he said goodbye to one of the truest cowboys the world has ever known.
Roy Cooper wasn’t just a rodeo legend. He was the rodeo. Nicknamed the “Super Looper,” Cooper was a seven-time world champion and a Pro Rodeo Hall of Famer, a man whose name carried weight in every arena and whose quiet presence spoke louder than any microphone ever could. But to George Strait, he was more than a legend—he was a brother.
When Cooper tragically passed away in a house fire on April 29 in Decatur, Texas, it didn’t just shake the rodeo world—it broke Strait’s heart. The two had shared a friendship built on grit, loyalty, and a bond only cowboys truly understand.
At Cooper’s funeral at Cowtown Coliseum in Fort Worth, Strait took the stage, struggling to speak as he honored a man who had been his anchor long before fame ever entered the picture.
“He was my hero,” Strait said, his voice cracking in front of a crowd full of cowboys, kinfolk, and longtime friends. “We shared a lot of good and bad times together. He didn’t hang out with me. I hung out with him.”
Their friendship ran deep—deeper than music, deeper than rodeo. Roy once said he’d give up his most prized possession—his All-Around World Champion belt buckle—only to George Strait. “He’s one of my very best friends,” Roy said. That kind of loyalty doesn’t come easy, and it never dies.
Strait’s tribute was raw and full of heart. He tried to bring levity with a favorite memory—one involving Stevie Nicks at a Kentucky Derby party. Turns out Roy tried to rope her, and years later, Nicks still remembered: “Where’s that crazy cowboy that tried to rope me?” she asked Strait. It got a laugh, but not for long.
When the stories gave way to silence, Strait stood there, visibly shaken, holding on to the only thing left—faith.
“Boy, did he love his family, and he loved the Lord,” Strait said, pausing to collect himself. “If the good Lord chooses me to go to Paradise sometime, where I know Roy is, I’m just gonna say, throw a saddle on one for me, brother, and let’s race.”
No lights, no spectacle—just a cowboy’s farewell from one legend to another.
Roy Cooper was a champion, a father, a friend, and a man who lived by a code. George Strait didn’t let us forget that. He gave Roy the sendoff he deserved: not polished, not perfect, but real—just like the man himself.
Ride easy, Super Looper. The arena won’t be the same without you.
