Look, I’ve had enough. Our football team is destroying my mental health, and I have it on the unimpeachable authority of the TexAgs message board that I’m not the only one. I know we’re supposed to be “good Ags,” but I’m not feeling so great this season. Luckily the solution is deceptively simple: Abolish the Texas A&M football program.
Before you look away, consider the reality — it’s difficult enough being an Aggie. My entire family thinks I’m in a cult. I can’t find clothes that aren’t maroon and the crime against American architecture, charitably called Heldenfels, continues to offend even the most tolerant observers.
Being the big brother to that other school in Austin is hard enough without suffering what some consider the tenth ring of Dante’s Inferno — an A&M football game in 2022.
Every home game, we students dutifully march to our designated slice of concrete within the dominating walls of Kyle Field. We brave the scorching heat of September and the frigid temperatures of late November only to endure the sensation of a stake being driven through our poor Aggie hearts. And for what? To be told by Jimbo Fisher that all we need to do is “execute better” for the hundredth time?
Our hope to be the next football powerhouse is clearly misplaced, and we should cut our losses while we can. The skeptical among you may be wondering where you’re going to redirect your school spirit, but fear not! There are numerous successful programs that can satisfy your desire to yell into oblivion at the direction of white overalled men.
In support of President M. Katherine Bank’s goal of improving campus efficiency, Kyle Field could be used for multiple sports, such as cornhole and equestrian.
The A&M cornhole team recently won the National College Cornhole team championship, but is there any reason we can’t host their competitions in Kyle Field? Imagine it, 100,000 fans packed into Kyle Field to watch our country’s greatest tailgaters and day party enthusiasts go head-to-head in fierce matches of bean bag tossing. Bonus points to whichever team finishes more beers before the game ends.
When cornhole is over, the field can be outfitted for a slew of equestrian events that will give justice to our nationally-ranked team. I don’t know about you, but I think it will be pretty refreshing to do the BTHO cheer and then, well, BTHO our opponent.
Critics of my plan may argue I’m being too harsh, but I’m merely voicing an opinion felt by much of the student body and alums. A recent unnamed master’s degree graduate explained how Aggie football negatively affected his time in school and continues to haunt him to this day.
“Nothing will ever beat the rage I felt when the Aggies blew a 34-point lead to UCLA in 2017, or at least that’s what I thought until this season,” he said. “I mean seriously, a 4-7 record … Appalachian State … is this team cursed?”
He quickly became too emotional to finish the interview.
“Before every season I tell myself, ‘this might be our year,’ and then the games start, and reality bludgeons me in the head. Sometimes I think it would be better not to have a football team. The pain is too great,” marketing senior Rick Astley said.
There is no pretty way to put this. The 12th Man has had enough. The status quo is unsustainable. We are not a football school, and we never will be. Deep down, we’re meant to be an everything else school: cornhole, equestrian, baseball, meat judging, etc.
There may be pushback to my proposal, particularly from untraumatized freshmen, but it’s essential to consider the long-term mental health of the students. Future generations of Aggies will thank us for taking the brave move of admitting this whole football thing just isn’t us.
Ryan Lindner is a political science major and opinion writer for The Battalion.