They call him The King of Country, but George Strait never liked the word “king.” He always said, “You can’t rule what you belong to.” And he belonged — to the dirt under his boots, to the cattle that knew his voice, to the people who showed up in sun and rain just to hear something honest. Backstage, you wouldn’t find a throne. You’d find George holding his hat, thanking the crew, straightening his collar before walking out like it was Sunday service. No fireworks, no ego — just a man doing what he was put here to do: sing the truth, and tip his hat to the folks who lived it. Maybe that’s why he lasted. Because every song he sang didn’t lift him above the world — it rooted him deeper in it. He wasn’t country’s king. He was its reflection.
Introduction There’s something timeless about “The Cowboy Rides Away.” Released in 1985, it quickly became...