With the Aggies officially planning a trip to sunny Dallas for the New Year, replete with white facemasks and shoes, things are taking on a decidedly retro flair in Aggieland. Unfortunately, getting whipped by Texas for the fifth straight year is retro, too.
You’d think that after so many years of following Aggie football, it would get tiresome. You’d think that all the ruined Thanksgiving weekends, the incessant “poor Aggies” chants and watching generation after generation of Longhorn tailbacks run roughshod over Aggie defenses would grate on maroon-shaded sensibilities.
But, if anything, all those doomed trips to Memorial or Jones SBC (or, once every 20 years, Baylor’s Floyd Casey) stadiums have done nothing but remind me why I’m so glad to be an Aggie.
At the close of an undergraduate career spanning two decades (or so it seems), two presidential administrations and two head coaches, looking back reveals the Aggie football team to be like an abusive spouse: I know exactly what’s going to happen, but I can’t seem to bring myself to give up on it.
But through all that, it’s the little things that make me thankful I’m not a t-sip, a member of that Baylor Line or (shudder) a Red Raider.
The yell leaders make me glad to be an Aggie. With the exception of Boo Boo Daviesthe sub-par performance of this year’s crew, these cadets (as they should be; non-regs have no business being yell leaders) may be the only reason no one has ever had to say, “My son is an Aggie cheerleader.”
As a former CT, I would generally assert that the band is only good for about 10 minutes a week. Even with Gen. Van Alstyne’s new weight restrictions in the Corps, it never ceases to be amazing how every member of the band is either 100 pounds overweight or 50 pounds underweight. But I’ll be damned if “Noble Men of Kyle” doesn’t give me chills every time they play it.
I’m glad the fans of opposing teams feel safe going to Northgate after the game, win, lose or tie. I’m glad the Jumbotron no longer recommends very loudly that we “Grab life by the horns” during timeouts and that the football team and coaching staff all know the words to the War Hymn.
I’m glad we’ve never had a mascot commit suicide by running headlong into a concrete wall and that we’ve never eaten any of our mascots at a barbeque. I’m glad the goal posts at Kyle Field are safe from the student body. Any opposing fan who rushes the field after his team wins deserves whatever happens to him.
I love what head coach Dennis Franchione has done with the team, and I’m excited for the future. But I sure do miss R.C. Slocum on the sidelines sometimes. I miss the 3-4 defense and the days when students were smart and wore white to games (It’s autumn in Texas: Dress accordingly). I hope that Justin Warren and Renuel Greene will play well enough next year to be mentioned in the same breath as Warrick Holdman and Dat Nguyen.
I’m delighted to see A&M play Tennessee (is it okay to call them t.u. as well?) in the Cotton Bowl because I’ve learned to hate every shade of orange. I hear they’re down to their third-string quarterback, though, which I’ve learned doesn’t bode well for the Aggies.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned from Coach Fran, it’s that he’s probably itching for a shot at his old nemesis Phil Fulmer. And if there’s one thing I know about the Aggies, it’s that they’re 0-3 in their last three frustrating Cotton Bowl appearances.
In a college career that saw so much frustration in Aggie football, I’m only too glad to leave it in Franchione’s capable hands. I hope he does right by them. They might not be the most talented team, or the most consistent, or even able to beat Baylor sometimes, but they’re the only college football team I’ve got.