Texas Football: The Joy And The Heartbreak Of Fandom

Is there anything more exciting, and frustrating, than Texas football?

Many theories exist to explain the current state of Texas football. Fingers have been pointed and blame assessed. Each accusation has some merit, but in the end they are all wrong. The truth is I can pinpoint the exact moment at which Texas football went off the rails. Even worse, it was all my fault.

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It was Friday, September 24, 2010, at little before five o’clock in the afternoon. That was when I committed an unforgivable error; a cardinal sin that would change the path of Texas football and doom the second best coach in program history to a tailspin that would ruin what had been a glistening legacy.

Any good sports fan has his or her quirks, routines and superstitions. Some are more engaged than others. Some spur their teams on with almost religious zeal while others prefer a cold intellectual approach. Most are probably somewhere in the middle.

I have over the years established many such rituals. I come by it honestly. When I was a kid, I observed my dad’s routines as a devoted follower of the Dallas Cowboys. Football Sundays went like clockwork: wake up to the Tom Landry Show followed by The NFL Today, then football. My parents threw their pillows in the floor in front of the TV and my Dad broke out his special glass, his special lighter and his blue and white plastic football and was ready before the ball was on the tee.

I long ago turned in blue and silver for burnt orange but I have my own traditions. I always wear my uniform on game day, making sure to match what the boys will be wearing. I have specific hats depending upon whether it’s a home game or a road game. (Though this tradition got wrecked late in 2010.) I decorate the house in burnt orange.

This all pales in comparison to what I do at work. First I line the walls of my cubicle with my college football gumball helmet collection. One hundred and twenty plus colorful plastic shells, dedicated to each and every FBS team. Every. One. I line them up properly: first by conference, subdivided by division and then alphabetically.

Except for Texas. The Longhorns have a special place on my desk where they will be “faced off” against the helmet of that week’s opponent. My marker board, which is usually used to denote break times and days off, becomes the Texas Game week board. Here I let everyone know just who we’re playing, what the records are, and some trivia regarding the coming week’s game. It goes up on Monday and stays up all week.

Even Case McCoy’s famous moxie could undo the damage I did to Texas football. Brendan Maloney-USA TODAY Sports

In the fall of 2010, I sat across the aisle from a die hard Sooner fan. We traded barbs throughout the young season. We were both anxiously waiting for the Red River Rivalry to roll around.

Richard the Sooner fan had already gone home on the day of September 24 when I made my mistake. As five o’clock approached I thought about Rivalry Week, which would begin on Monday. Richard would come in first on Monday but I was determined to fire the first shot.

Arrogantly, I dismissed that week’s opponent, the UCLA Bruins. Just before quitting time, I put the UCLA helmet back among its Pac 10 brethren and instead put up the Oklahoma helmet. I erased the UCLA Gameweek trivia and instead wrote in big letters “Beat OU!” I strolled out of the building that evening proud of myself for getting the first lick in. However this little voice in the back of my mind kept saying, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

I had committed a fatal error of fandom and the Longhorns paid for my insolence. I had broken tradition and therefore sent bad mojo to my boys. They were roasted by UCLA in one of the ugliest performances of the Mack Brown era up to that point. They would win only twice more that year as I desperately tried anything and everything I could think of to make up for my mistake.

This is the joy and the heartbreak of fandom. The return of our teams gives us hope and enjoyment each season. The games add a little extra color to our lives. Yet attaching yourself to a team, being a true “die hard” fan, comes with a price. You enter yourself into the mystical fabric of fandom, where any little misstep could spell doom for your team.

Five years after my astronomical goof another season has finally rolled around. It’s time to suit up again. The “Little Rickys”, my twin Ricky Williams figurines, sit on a shelf in the living room, bookending my autographed Ricky card. My two National Championship footballs have been placed with care. The replica helmet commemorating the 100^th Anniversary of the Red River Rivalry is on display, as are all the coke cans and other trinkets I’ve acquired. The pennants and signs are going up as the house begins to take on a burnt orange feel.

The orange and white #8 jerseys are in the closet ready to be called into service. I have two new hats that I’m hoping will help me recapture the right magic, the mojo of the old ones seeming to have been exhausted. At work, the helmets will be going up and the Texas Gameweek board will soon return. It’s time to “faceoff” against old ND, gumball style.

Texas Longhorns /

Texas Longhorns

I can only hope that this year I will get things right and reverse the recent trend of mediocrity. My team needs me to do this.

My father-in-law used to get angry with me about saying things like that. If I referred to the Longhorns as “we” he would chastise me: “Who’s we? You’re not we. You’re not on the team.” He was a great and intelligent man, but wrong. When you give your heart and soul, time and money to a team, you have the right to proclaim “we”. You also, however, undertake an obligation to be the best fan you can be and do whatever you can to spur your team on to victory.

I believe that fans, in certain circumstances, can do this. Maybe only in small ways, but when everything aligns just right and fortune smiles upon your team, you can send just enough magic to will your player for that extra yard, to edge that kick a fraction of an inch in the right direction, to make that curve ball hang in the zone a tick too long.

You can’t explain it and you shouldn’t try. This is the mysticism of fandom, the driving force behind college football’s great traditions. From organized events such as the Hex Rally down to the living room superstitions of sitting in the right place or wearing the right shirt, we connect to our teams through these rituals.

People sometimes pay lip service to the importance of fans by saying that the fans pay the salaries. That’s not really true, TV and advertising pays salaries. What the fans provide is the passion that makes it all worthwhile. You could still play football with no one in the stands, but who would care?

Most games are won or lost by athletes and strategy, preparation and execution. Sometimes though, games are won by fluke or magic or simple luck. When that happens, I like to think that it comes from the fans. Each one of them sending their little bits of mojo into the universe and catching just the right frequency to get it where it needs to go.

So Longhorn fans near and far, be you Texas Exes or just a passionate fan like myself, suit up. Training camp is over for fans as well and it’s time to go to work for our boys. The season is finally here.

Sound off Orangebloods! Do you have any game day rituals or traditions? Comment and share below.

Next: Gearing up for this season

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