A former rodeo cowboy turned university custodian applies hard-won wisdom to spot students in crisis

The skill that once kept David Delehant safe on bucking horses now serves a different purpose in the hallways of CSU Pueblo: reading the subtle signs that someone is struggling.

For more than 18 years, Delehant has worked as a custodian at the university. His official duties involve maintaining the buildings on campus. His unofficial mission draws on training from two seemingly unrelated backgrounds. His military service and being a professional rough stock rodeo cowboy. It’s this hard-earned ability to read warning signs that now helps him identify students who may be contemplating suicide.

Though the connection isn’t immediately obvious, both experiences taught Delehant the critical importance of situational awareness. In rodeo, failing to notice an animal’s mood or movement pattern could mean serious injury. In his current role, missing signs of student distress could mean something far worse.

Delehant’s path to this work began in the 1980s when his athletic career ended. “I couldn’t do high school athletics due to some things that happened at home, and so I took up rodeo,” Delehant said. “I was a country kid who enjoyed the outdoors.” The outdoor and natural lifestyle consumed him completely. “That’s the thing, rodeo contestants really enjoy being outdoors because you are on the road almost 365 days a year.”

He spent years traveling the competitive circuit from California to Colorado and the surrounding areas. He competed in bareback riding, saddle bronc, and bull riding. He also became a bullfighter, acting as a decoy and divert a bull’s attention from cowboys who’d been bucked off their backs. The lifestyle demanded constant adaptation to new environments and quick assessment of both animal behavior and human dynamics.

His rodeo career ended abruptly in 1993 at the Colorado State Fair in Pueblo. During a bareback horse ride, his hand pulled free from the rigging four seconds into the eight-second requirement. “I went over the back. He (the horse) actually kicked me in the middle of the back. As I went over, I landed in what looked like a nice, soft area. It was not. It was like hitting concrete. That’s where I broke my two ribs and cracked my other two,” he recalls. The injury forced him to confront the mathematics that governs all rodeo careers: bodies accumulate damage faster than they can heal. “ I kind of had to say, ‘this is enough.’”

Military service followed, and he met his wife, Marlene. The military provided structure and specialized training to include suicide prevention protocols. When Delehant joined CSU Pueblo’s facilities staff, his diverse experiences converged in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“I Have Your Six”

The university’s student population reflects the complexity of modern higher education. Some arrive from rural communities where rodeo remains central to cultural identity. Others come from urban areas or international backgrounds. Many face pressures that previous generations of college students never encountered: tuition costs, changing job markets, and social media that amplifies both connection and isolation.

Delehant’s custodial routes take him through the Occhiato Student Center, and study spaces during hours when formal support services aren’t always available. His military training taught him to recognize behavioral changes that might indicate crisis: altered sleep patterns, social withdrawal, declining personal hygiene, or students who occupy the same isolated spots day after day.

The approach he’s developed relies on direct but gentle engagement. A visible tattoo signals his willingness to listen, while his manner conveys the authenticity that comes from someone who has faced his own difficult transitions. Students often respond to simple questions from someone whose presence suggests genuine concern rather than professional obligation.

This informal intervention operates in the spaces between institutional mental health services and peer support networks. University counseling centers provide professional treatment, but many students never access these resources. Crisis hotlines offer anonymous support, but require individuals to recognize their own need for help. Delehant’s method fills gaps that formal systems sometimes miss.

The work requires careful boundaries. He understands when situations exceed his capacity to help. His effectiveness stems from timing and authenticity rather than therapeutic technique. Students who would never consider visiting the counseling center sometimes accept help when it’s offered by someone they encounter during routine daily activities.

This approach proves particularly valuable at CSU Pueblo, where diverse backgrounds create varied needs for support. The university’s connection to rodeo culture runs deep. It sponsors the Colorado State Fair, which concludes on Monday after its annual run. CSU Pueblo serves urban and international populations, creating a community where traditional support systems don’t always translate across cultural boundaries.

Delehant bridges the different worlds through presence rather than formal programming. He traveled the world in the military, and his understanding of both rural traditions and urban challenges allows him to connect with students from varied backgrounds. The same intuition that once helped him assess animal behavior now helps him recognize when young people need someone to notice their struggles.

“It’s a community. It’s a family,” he says of rodeo and campus culture. It’s the same perspective he applies to the university environment.

Universities employ professional staff and maintain extensive mental health resources, but crisis intervention sometimes arrives through unexpected channels. A facilities worker who notices routine changes. A veteran who recognizes distress signals. Someone whose own difficulties provide insight into others’ experiences.

Standing beside the chute where his rodeo career ended, Delehant showed no regret about the path that brought him to his current role. The broken and cracked ribs healed decades ago. The career that ended led to work that may save lives in ways that rodeo victories never could.

The skills stay the same: pay attention, trust your instincts, and act when action is needed. The stakes, however, are considerably higher than eight seconds on a bucking horse.