New Traditions

I grew up in Arkansas. If you've ever been to The Natural State, you know that every man, woman and child is a Razorback fan. Whether or not you attended (or have ever met anyone who attended) U of A has no bearing on whether or not you can sing the fight song and call the hogs (Woooooooooooo! Pig Sooie!).

One thing that every Razorback fan knows is that you do not, under any circumstances, cheer for the Texas Longhorns (or even spit on them if they're on fire). Although the two teams no longer play in the same conference (and Texans seem to be pretty much over it), Arkansans are still very aware of a rivalry with the Longhorns that (most say) began in 1969 with The Big Shootout.

So, imagine my surprise to find myself cheering for the Longhorns last night when there was (almost) a glimmer of hope for them to come back and win the National Championship late in the fourth quarter. Not only was I cheering for the long-hated Longhorns, I was cheering against the SEC.

My journey from A (die hard Razorback who wouldn't even wear the color orange) to B (girl screaming GO! GO! GO! at the TV as Texas was headed for the end zone) began when Silas was six weeks old. There was a Longhorn game on TV that I wasn't paying any attention to until I noticed Si was glued to it (it's his thing....he watches football, I swear it on my life). It then occurred to me that it is very unlikely my son will be a Razorback fan. Certainly never the way someone who was born and raised there is. Certainly not the way I was.

Football has been one of the few things in my life that I am passionate about. Football was one of the reasons I was so stoked to have a little boy. The realization that my son was probably not going to give a flip about the team I cut my teeth on sparked the unthinkable idea that I might just have to figure out how to stop hating the Longhorns. So, I watched the Texas game with Silas and tried to give a damn about Texas winning. The most I could muster was indifference (better than, "Please, God, let them get shut out!")

As far as I knew, that was where I had left it. I wouldn't cheer against them, but I didn't care enough to cheer for them either. That was where I was until the fifth play of last nights game. And then, Colt McCoy got hurt, and my heart broke for that team. They're kids, and they have that universal love for football, and the thing they have worked so hard for has become all but impossible in the blink of an eye. So, I couldn't help but jump up and cheer when they scored the touchdown that gave the faintest glimmer of hope, and I couldn't help but be crushed when Gilbert got clobbered off his blind side and fumbled that football extinguishing that glimmer.

Texas has a way of doing that to me over and over again. Every time I let my guard down, they suck me into something else I swore to never be a part of regardless of my geographic location. This is the one area where I have managed to hold my ground.

But I give up. I admit defeat. Yeah, I said it: Hook 'em Horns!