Longhorns versus Aggies

Longhorns versus Aggies

While many states have fierce college football rivalries, the University of Texas (UT) and Texas A&M (Aggies) confrontations during the Southwest Conference era set standards for the most intense intrastate competition on all levels of their existence. Though the Texas Longhorns' biggest single-game antagonist was Oklahoma University, the Aggies had an entire lifestyle of hatred for the Horns. While both schools had outstanding Engineering programs, A&M was a land grant school with the only veterinarian program in Texas. It was a male-only military school run by the Corp of Cadets until 1963 when the school opened up attendance to non-military students, blacks, and women. The Corp continued to dominate the school and carry on its traditions, the strongest being a hatred of all things Longhorn. Another tradition, until recent years, was only men were allowed to be Aggie cheerleaders. Also, Corp Cadets dressed in full dress uniforms and stood the entire game to chant.
In those early years, most A&M students came from farms to obtain agricultural degrees. This led Longhorns to write books with and tell thousands of Aggie jokes about ignorant farm boys. Aggies, in turn, became defensive about their farm backgrounds and traditions. In Texas, jokes told about Italians, Jews, Latins, and Blacks in other parts of the country were changed to be about Aggies with the same punch lines. To top it off, A&M football teams rarely had winning seasons, making them the butt of Longhorn anecdotes, which, in turn, gave them losers attitudes.
This antagonism between the schools carried on past college years to business and social activities. The Texas Highway Department hired only Aggie engineers. Most engineering firms and many other companies hired either Aggies or Longhorns, not both. Most towns had fierce alma mater clubs from both schools that met to carry on lifelong grudges against each other.
At one of my first jobs, I was a lone Texas ex engineer among many Aggies. I learned firsthand that they expected to be underdogs and lose most of their sports competitions, but as long as they beat the Longhorns, they had a winning season.
UT colors were burnt orange and white, while Aggies sported maroon and white. In my household, orange décor adorned most rooms. Orange has always been my favorite color, maybe because my father wore orange underwear and clothes and supposedly bled orange. He would not be caught dead in a maroon car. My mother and I both drove orange vehicles, while dad had an orange and white horse trailer.
Many cars on the road displayed either Longhorn or Aggie stickers. Dad taught my sisters and me a game early on to keep us quiet during car rides. We watched for stickers on other cars. If we sighted a Longhorn car, we gave them a UT sign of two fingers raised on our hands. The other drivers responded with Horns back at us. The Aggie signal, known as gig’em, consisted of a fist with the thumb pointed up. We would give an Aggie car (often maroon) a gig'em with our thumbs down. A mad driver would respond with a thumbs up, which led to our hook'em sign. Back and forth we flashed signs with laughter, proud to be a Longhorn.
At Christmas and birthdays, any presents with Longhorns or orange colors were acceptable. From an early age, my father told me I could go to any college I wanted, but he would only pay for me to attend the University of Texas. He was serious, and it never entered my mind to look at other schools.
Dad had season tickets for Texas games most of his life. Some of my earliest memories were our family going to loud, exciting football games of the 60s to 80s when Coach Darrel Royal took his legendary Longhorns to three National Championships. My favorite part was after the games when Dad took me to the locker rooms to collected autographs from my heroes.
The rivalry between these two schools dated back to the early 1900s, when Aggies tried to steal the UT mascot bull and bar-b-que it. Back and forth went pranks for decades, adding legendary antics to school lore. A big A&M tradition spanning 90 years was building a woodpile up to 109 feet high to ignite as a bonfire on campus each Thanksgiving Eve before a University of Texas game. This giant bonfire symbolized the students burning desire to beat the hell of t.u., a derogatory name for the University of Texas. Several times over the years, Longhorn students attempted to fly over the bonfire and drop a gasoline bomb to light it early. Though these efforts failed, they garnered plenty of press and increased the rivalry. The bonfire ritual ended in 1999 when beer, fraternity boys, and heavy machinery created a catastrophic collapse during the woodpile construction, resulting in the deaths of 11 students and severe injuries to 27 more.
Because of the extreme rivalry, I did not attend Aggie home games. I only went there once for a karate tournament before being a UT student and stayed on alert for student craziness the whole time. Too many stories flourished of Texas fans being harassed and beaten up at their stadium, especially when the Horns won. Here are a couple of incidents I happened to see that illustrate peril at Longhorn – Aggie games.
A&M’s football field was dedicated to fallen soldiers from all wars. As such, it was considered sacred ground, and only football players were allowed upon it. One year in the 70s, I watched on TV as UT cheerleaders left their sideline positions to run across the hallowed field guarded by Corp cadets in full dress uniforms, including swords. I watched in shock as Cadets became outraged that cheerleaders ran over their sacred ground, so they drew their swords and chased terrified cheerleaders off the field. A prime example of Aggie insanity.
At a game in Austin in the 90s, I sat near an end zone where a Texas fraternity, The Cowboys, shot off a canon whenever the Longhorns scored. These Cowboys had a reputation for being the meanest guys on campus. They underwent terrible beatings during initiations to prove they could stand up to the honor of guarding their canon. Several freshmen died during those initiations over the years, causing the fraternity to be suspended for those incidents. Nobody in their right mind messed with Cowboys. Except for Aggies sitting across the field that day.
I watched six young Corp men in full uniforms with knee-high boots called to the other end of the field at halftime by an officer. What could they be up to? They stood at attention while he gave them orders and pointed at the canon under the goal post where a dozen Cowboys guarded it. The Corp men saluted their officer and began marching through Longhorn band members toward my end of the field. Halftime entertainment looked to become more interesting than the band on the field. Yelling and cheering rose from the crowd around me. When the cadets reached the fifty-yard line, the Cowboys became aware of pending confrontation and circled their canon. Nearby police leaned against the stands, watching indifferently. Cadets broke into a charge toward the canon, their swords, fortunately, swinging at their waists, undrawn. I yelled with the crowd in anticipation of trouble. What were those crazy Aggies going to do in our Longhorn stadium? Try to steal the canon? Take it where? What a crazy suicide mission those poor underclassmen undertook with no hope for success. Like the Light Brigade’s charge, they were brave but doomed.
Cadets ran into a solid line of Cowboys and began a melee of fighting. Their hopeless bravery, or stupidity, impressed me as I yelled encouragement to the Cowboys. Fists swung, boots kicked, cadets fell to the ground, and the crowd cheered. A few Cowboys were hit, but more stepped up. The outnumbered Cadets valiantly fought to no avail. Soon blood covered their faces as they rolled on the ground being kicked with pointed Cowboy boots. The police continued to watch with interest but made no effort to intervene. After beating the Cadets into submission, Cowboys stripped them of their boots, hats, and swords, sending them back to campus with their honor and pride stolen. Longhorn fans cheered while Aggie fans watched in silence and shame. Finally, the police moved in to end the fight. They arrested and handcuffed the Corp men, then marched them off to jail. Cowboys passed around hat, boot, and sword trophies as the crowd went wild. When the second half started, the A&M team played lifelessly as Texas thoroughly trounced them for another one of a long history of defeats. I could not imagine the disgrace the poor cadets faced back at their campus when they showed up missing parts of their sacred uniforms.
At another UT – Aggie football game in 1998, I watched Ricky Williams break Tony Dorset’s all-time career NCAA Division 1 rushing record of 6,277 yards by making a dazzling run of 60 yards in the first quarter. He ended up with 259 yards rushing that day, once again, sending the Aggies home in shame.
A few years later, Texas A&M ended the 100-year-old rivalry by transferring to the Southeastern Conference. Aggies insisted the change was a financial decision, but Longhorns knew they were just tired of being defeated in football year after year by UT.