The year I graduated from high school, Mike Singletary led Baylor to the Cotton Bowl. I took that as a good sign.
When Harry and Nancy Wooten invited me to Waco to visit their son (my boyfriend), I watched the impressive homecoming bonfire and knew it was the college for me. Plus Grant Teaff’s worm story intrigued me beyond anything I had ever heard.
At Christmas break, I vacated my Arkansas State dorm room, loaded up my yellow corvette and headed west. Although things didn’t work out with the boyfriend, I am forever grateful he connected me to Baylor.
Today I should be Christmas shopping. Or brining a turkey. Or something. But I cannot do or plan one single productive thing until Baylor beats OSU tonight. (I did dig out my gold pom-pom and Baylor face tattoos, so that’s something.)
Until recently, Baylor fans have endured less than stellar seasons. We were the butt of every Southwest Conference joke, even worse than the time-worn Aggie cracks. Schools vied to play us for homecoming game. Yet still we cheered and proudly yelled h-e-e-e-e-y sic ’em bears! at every opportunity.
|My sister and me with our 1980-something hair. Ready for game day!|
I graduated and moved to Dallas.
I worked in banking.
I got married, had two kids, divorced, worked even more, remarried…
Life flew by. Friday nights were spent at high school games. We made occasional road trips to Waco for Baylor games.
I learned to be satisfied if the bears simply showed up and didn’t embarrass me. We only lost by ten points? That’s a win in my book, I’d say…Coping skills—something learned at Baylor right along with macroeconomic theory and the Cotton-Eyed Joe. We limped along hoping for a football team while supporting the school’s other more successful programs…olympic track athletes…amazing basketball teams…
Yet still I waited for football.
I moved my kids into their own dorms, not Baylor, but I was okay with that. Baylor was my special place. Each time I drove to Austin, I stopped at the Bear Pit to chat with the mascots. Will this be our year? Usually the bears were hiding…
Still waiting and aging and waiting and aging…
Then quietly and a bit under the radar, Art Briles breathed life into the program. Robert Griffin III was unstoppable. We began to remember what honest-to-goodness fun felt like, because we’d forgotten, or maybe we never knew.
|cute kid at Alamo Bowl:)|
And now—another miracle on the Brazos?
Maybe this time we don’t need a miracle.
All that waiting and hoping and dreaming and praying…Give us this day our daily bears… it’s time.
Bear down Baylor.
Do it for me.
Do it for all of Baylor Nation. We’ve been patiently waiting.
Sic ’em Bears!
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Blake Shelton, Sic ’em Bears!