In the world of rodeo, legends are measured by grit, grace, and the kind of quiet strength that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. On Monday, at the historic Cowtown Coliseum in Fort Worth, Texas, the cowboy world gathered to say goodbye to one of its greatest—Roy Cooper. Known as “The Super Looper,” Cooper wasn’t just a seven-time world champion and a Pro Rodeo Hall of Famer. He was a friend, a mentor, and for country icon George Strait, a hero.

George Strait wipes away tears while speaking at rodeo legend Roy Cooper’s emotional funeral service.

The news of Roy Cooper’s tragic passing in a house fire on April 29 sent shockwaves through both the rodeo and country music communities. But nowhere did it hit harder than in the heart of George Strait, the King of Country Music, who stood before a crowd of cowboys, family, and friends to deliver a eulogy that was as raw as it was real.

“He was my hero,” Strait said, his voice breaking under the weight of loss. “We shared a lot of good and bad times together. He didn’t hang out with me. I hung out with him.”

For Strait, those weren’t just words. The bond between these two Texas icons went back decades, long before Strait filled stadiums and Cooper filled trophy cases. Their friendship was built on mutual respect, shared values, and a love for the cowboy way—a way of life that’s becoming all too rare.

Roy Cooper was born with rodeo in his veins. Hailing from a ranching family in Oklahoma, he grew up with a rope in his hand and a fire in his belly. By the time he was a young man, he was already turning heads in the arena, dazzling crowds with his skill, speed, and uncanny ability to make even the toughest calf roping runs look easy. Over his storied career, Cooper would win seven world titles and become a three-time All-Around Cowboy, cementing his place in the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame.

But for those who knew him best, it wasn’t just the gold buckles or the records that defined Roy Cooper. It was his humility, his loyalty, and his willingness to help the next cowboy up. He was the kind of man who’d give you the shirt off his back—or, as he once told a reporter, the very belt buckle off his waist.

“I would give it to George Strait if he would wear it,” Cooper once said with a grin, referring to his prized All-Around World Champion buckle. “He’s one of my very best friends.”

That’s the kind of bond that doesn’t come easy—and it doesn’t fade with time. You could feel it in every word Strait managed to get out at the funeral, and in the silence that followed when he could say no more.

“Roy was one of the ones they made that saying about,” Strait said, fighting back tears. “That they broke the mold when they made him. They sure did.”

The crowd at Cowtown Coliseum was a testament to Cooper’s impact. Cowboys in starched Wranglers and battered boots stood shoulder to shoulder with country fans, rodeo queens, and old friends from every corner of Texas and beyond. They came not just to mourn, but to remember—to swap stories about Roy’s legendary rope tricks, his quick wit, and the way he’d quietly slip out of a crowded room to help a kid with his first lasso.

For many, Roy Cooper was the embodiment of what it means to be a cowboy—not just tough, but true. He didn’t have to say much to make his point. A nod, a handshake, or a steady gaze was often all it took. In an era obsessed with flash and fame, Cooper was a reminder that real greatness is measured in character, not just championships.

His legacy lives on, not just in the record books, but in the lives he touched—his sons, who’ve gone on to become rodeo champions themselves; the young ropers who grew up idolizing him; and friends like George Strait, who will never forget the man who taught him that being a cowboy is about more than what you win—it’s about how you live.

As the service ended and the crowd filed out into the Texas sun, there was a sense that something irreplaceable had been lost. But there was also gratitude—for the years, the memories, and the lessons Roy Cooper left behind.

“He was the real deal,” one cowboy said, tugging his hat low. “They don’t make ‘em like Roy anymore.”

Maybe not. But as long as there are cowboys who remember, and country songs that tell their stories, the spirit of Roy Cooper will ride on—quiet, steady, and unbreakable.

Because legends like Roy Cooper aren’t just remembered. They’re lived, every day, by those who were lucky enough to ride in their shadow.