Game Day Diary—Texas
Other schools have homecomings, but this past week at Aggieland has been about “Coming Home.” This journey began in Spirit over a week ago, the moment each of us heard of the Bonfire Tragedy. In the days that followed, untold numbers made that physical pilgrimage to the “School we hold so dear.”
Prelude
This Thanksgiving, I shared a hurried Turkey meal at my brother’s house, and then climbed into the car and headed to College Station alone. I hit highway 36 just outside of Temple around 3PM. I suddenly was alone no more. I became part of a convoy of Aggies—headlights on and cars announcing 12th Man membership, parent’s stickers, Aggie Band, Corps of Cadets from back windows. I simply pulled into the line and traveled with the others—all the way to Aggieland. Aggies were coming home.
A Temple Ag (Janag) had donated twelve maroon candles. I had then made paper holders, each with the name of an Aggie Angel and Bonfire 99 on them. My son and his Fish Buddies accompanied me to the Vigil. Each of the boys wanted the candle of a particular person—a friend from the dorm, a classmate and study partner, someone they visited with on the way to classes. Others were gladly taken by late arrivals as the official candles were depleted. The silence of the Bonfire sight defies description. It is more than just an absence of sound. There is a stillness and quiet and peace that touches the heart and the soul. Tears and candlewax both fall in silence. Heads are bent in prayer and grief. Hymns are whispered by some, respecting the silence, but filling the need for tribute. Looking back toward the Flag Pole, the night is filled with candles, slowing coming toward the site. The numbers are incredible. It is as if all the stars in the universe have fallen on the Polo Field. Each person leaves when he or she is ready. My group stays for nearly two hours, then we move in silence through the crowd. The candlelight shows the faces of the larger Aggie family. Young Aggie parents clutch the hands of small children. Students embrace for support. Grandparents stay on the fringes—holding candles, but not up to the long walk to the perimeter fence. From the fringe, I finally stop and look back. I am speechless. From this higher view, I see an Aggie Ring I will never forget. There is a circle of light completely around the entire site. Some have estimated one hundred thousand people, and I would not be able to argue with that estimate. A giant Aggie Ring of light!!!!
After a quick stop at the quad for warmer clothing, the group headed over to Kyle Field for the “modified” Yell Practice. The band uses drum cadence only all the way to Kyle. This sound fills the quietness that has covered the campus. This Yell Practice also proved to be an incredible experience. This was my first Yell Practice in over twenty years. We are early enough to get in the first deck—next to last row, but still it was great.
The crowd is huge. Suddenly the crowd erupts into loud and emotional applause. The Pots from bonfire lead the group into Kyle, including one young man still in a wheel chair. The emotion and strength of these young men is inspirational. The band and team will share the bleachers at the south end. There are other emotional moments before Yell begins. The Pots go to the crowd and hug some parents—theirs? someone else’s? I don’t know, but the moment was touching. As we wait for Yell to begin, the band plays crowd favorites.
The Head Yell Leader is to be commended. He handled this difficult night with incredible poise and leadership. His opening speech sets the mood for the yell. Life is more important than a game, but the game is an important part of life. Don’t ever get the two confused. He expressed his appreciation for the support of the University of Texas during this week. The crowd responded with a long, loud ovation. Then he added that the only thing modified about Yell would be to yell louder and sing louder and support the team louder than ever before. The students proceeded to do just that.
While I know that there was debate about the War Hymn in advance, the singing of the War Hymn was so important that night. Yell avoided Beat the Hell and tu, but the War Hymn was sung, and boy was it sung. The wheelchair bound Pot was helped to his feet and supported by his buddies for the War Hymn and for the Spirit. Each time it happened, I had a new tear to wipe away. As I stood in the middle of the students, I could feel the “Fight” coming back into sad and weary hearts. They arched their backs, threw back their heads, and belted out the War Hymn as never before. As we sawed horns, the healing was beginning. Another point for praise was the traditional “Last Corps Trip.” Never in the history of this tradition has this recitation been this difficult. Never has it been better done.
I hope they publish the text of RC’s speech. He used the Gettysburg Address as the framework, but it was an Aggie version—dedicated to the Spirit that can Ne’er be told. He talked of integrity and unity. His voice became thick with emotion at several points. There could be no doubt that this man was deeply touched by the events of the last week . He promised to “Beat the HECK outta texas. The Jumbotron did a tribute to the Bonfire. Close up shots of Bonfires past were showed and the words “A Spirit that can Ne’er be Told “ were on the screen. The lights went out—and the remnants of Vigil candles were lit—and unplanned tribute. Twelve Cannon blasts shattered the night air.
The team was on field for a final Spirit of Aggieland. At this time they were supposed to leave the field, but instead, a few stepped toward the Pots standing on the sidelines. The rest quickly followed. There were hugs and handshakes. Our team and our students were ONE. Another moment of tears. Coaches were finally able to steer the team towards the exit, but a few were still hugging the Pot in the wheelchair. One of the last to leave was Jamar Toombs. It is obvious that he does not want to leave yet. At about midfield he starts signaling to the crowd. First he gets a loud roar. He signals again and again and finally TOOOOOOOOMBS rocks the stadium. He leaves, and we have an upbeat, needed, and unplanned ending to the Yell. My son and buddies walk me to car, and I camp out for the night at the house of one of my former students from Laredo—thank you Robert Cogburn.
Game Day—
At 5:30AM the alarm went off, and for me, gameday began. I dressed slowly (I was tired from the day before, guess it is old age) and headed for Kyle. The morning was cold—finally some football weather. A heavy frost coated all my car windows. As I drove down George Bush Drive, the sun was rising over Kyle Field, and the lights were on. It was surreal and beautiful.
I had hoped to be one of the first on Campus that morning, but many others had the same ides. By 6:45 I was at G. Rollie in line to get memorial T-shirts for the family. The line was already long—and they were not starting to sell until 7:30. Long lines were already at the ticket windows—most Cadets in uniform—BQ’s—getting the stamp for the student tickets. There was already a steady stream of people into the MSC to pay respects in the Flag Room. There were four styles of shirts at this time—and all proceeds were to go to the families of the victims. I was surprised and touched to see the end of my poem in gray below the “Softly Call the Muster” quote on the maroon shirts. This shirt features the memorial ribbon on the front. The green shirt had flaming Bonfire on the back and this quote.
“Memorializing the Fallen,
Interceding for the Injured,
Uniting the Aggie Spirit,
Fighting Texas Aggie Bonfire 1999
May it remain with us always.”
There was also a gray shirt and a white shirt and each was different. As usual, with a gathering of Aggies, time passed quickly and new friends were made. I bought 12 shirts—it seemed like the right number. Now I wish I had bought fifty. That line stayed long, before and after the game.
After the shirt line, I joined the rest of the family in front of Koldus to watch the Fighting Texas Aggie Band and Corps of Cadets. Here the 12th Man people had buttons stating “They Live One” and small maroon and white ribbons. I am wearing my ribbons as I type. Even at 8AM the crowd was large. The mood was determined—that is the only word I know for it. My Dad is fighting tears and losing the battle frequently—at 88 he has learned that real men feel real emotions and are brave enough to show them.
Horns proudly wear their orange. Aggie equally proud in Maroon. That is the way it should be. Many, many horns were wearing ribbons. Some were wearing Aggie caps with orange shirts. All were polite, friendly, and respectful. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I never saw a bad moment all day long. I helped a couple of older Horns find the right gate to get into the stadium. Both sides wanted the win—badly, but the cheap, ugly name calling was missing. I hope it stays missing. My brother and sister in law had made a stop that the Bonfire sight, like so many, that was a stop they had to make
.Then the cannon sounded, and it was time to play a game. This time as the Corps marched by, there were many signs of loss. Some outfits were black ribbons, some white. One group had on green ribbons. The faces of the outfits who actually lost people were set and brave and so, so sad. Faces were controlled, but the eyes were stricken. That has to have been the most difficult March In in Corps of Cadet history. All parts of the University had losses, but the most heavily hit was the Corps—where army, air, and navy all had losses.
On the way to Kyle, maroon balloons were handed to the crowd to be released as part of the pregame. I was told to release after the Spirit, but with Aggie stubbornness, the balloons were released at the War Hymn. It was such a sight to see those balloons turning the sky maroon. The crowd slowed getting into the stadium, and I missed the Cav. I am told Parson’s had the riderless horse in tribute to the fallen. The pooper scoopers were at work by the time I could get to my seat. The stands were over half full by the time the Band started playing for the Corps to march in. The reviewing stand had the Governor and President Bush. I decided I better stay in my seat. I usually go stand right next to the reviewing stand and watch for a close up of my son, but I don’t think the security people for the Bushes would have understood a fanatical Aggie Mom.
Pregame was certainly different. I personally wish they would scrap the canned Jumbotron presentation, but I guess they have an advertising contract. This year the Ags were silent during the Eyes of Texas as a sign of respect. I did not hear a single ‘I’ve been working on the railroad” in our section. As a side note, when we don’t sing along, they aren’t nearly as loud. The actually intro started with a lightening bolt and then showed the team on the walk over. I liked that part. Toombs is thunder (the big rumble) and the Wrecking Crew was lightening. The team knelt for a moment of silence and then the Aggie piloted jets flew over with the missing man formation. Tears again. The team joins us for the Spirit, and the only bad moment of the game happened when the Texas team and flag run onto the field in the middle of the Spirit.
The game was wonderful. The team played with a fire and comradeship that had been missing all year. The Offense cheered the Crew. The Crew cheered for the O. Dat and some of his buddies were on the sidelines. I saw him step over to offer congratulations after a couple of big plays. Jason Glenn was constantly signally the crowed to get into the game and we did. In our section 104—the entire section stood for the whole game. We yelled so loudly the little girl in front of us had her ears covered most of the game. I saw offensive linemen signally us to yell. Even with mistakes in the first half, the feeling of oneness with the team was tangible.
Life gives us a few special jewels of perfection. Halftime was such a moment. The University of Texas Band’s tribute was fitting and touching. That arrangement of Amazing Grace, the following arrangement of Taps, the joint flags and the lowering of the Texas Flag, the Hats off, the silent exit, and the not playing of Texas Fight will be engrained on my heart for life. I thank every member of the Longhorn Band. The Fighting Texas Aggie Band’s tribute was also perfect. The first part of the drill was an active salute. A special moment was the full halt before the four way march through. Then our block T—in total silence—only a chorus of 12 Aggie Angels in heaven were singing the War Hymn. I thought of the Block T in “We’ve Never Been Licked.” Outsiders might not appreciate the significance of that symbol, but for Aggies, it was a tearful, ultimate tribute. The silence was total. Here the Longhorn team was included. Starting on the field, they quickly realized what was happening, and joined in the absolute silence. The band stopped playing, then there were drum taps only, then even that stopped and the T slowly and silently filed back into the North End Zone—the band silenced like the young lives silenced in the accident.
In the second half the Horns had no chance. The fusion of the Team and 12th Man was complete. The roar was deafening. And then the Horn qb’s would try to audible, the loud would get louder. The Aggies were playing team defense—and being very aggressive. Defensive hits were cheered like touchdowns. Texas has to use timeouts and had some procedure and delay of game calls I contribute largely to the noise. There was no tiredness on the Aggie bench. Players were jumping up and down and waving the crowd to new levels. Randy and the Offense came through with the points to give us the lead. Once we had it, there was no way the Horns would get it back. The entire student section was givng the WC hand sign in unison. It was common on our side also. The Wrecking Crew chant was also loud. “Wrecking Crew, Wrecking Crew, Wrecking Crew.” Shane’s punting kept Texas pinned at its own goalline. We had two big defensive stops to protect the lead. The emotion of the players after the fumble recovery had me crying again. This time the tears were tears of joy. Players chased RC down the sidelines for a bath. The fish nabbed the yell leaders, and the team, recruits, and hostesses finally stayed on Kyle Field to sing the War Hymn with the rest of the team—that 12th Man in the stands. Dat and his buddies sawed horns on the sidelines. As the team finally moved to the tunnel exit, the fans in our area gave the defense a final Wrecking Crew chant.
As we made our way back to the car, I was again impressed by the general good sportsmanship from Ags and Horns alike. Texas, our state, looks good when we can do that. As I walked by E.K. Gill on the way to the car, I saw some Aggie’s tribute to the fallen—12 long stem red roses—each with the name of a lost Angel. E.K. was holding some roses and the rest were at his feet. I can see him in heaven telling the new 12 about the days of old Army and ironman football.
I then encountered the band—sort of—on the way to Yell at the Y. The crowd was so immense that many (not just parents and dates) were mixed in with band. The drum cadence was all that was keeping them together. They kept coming by—and just when I would think they were finished, here would come some more. The front and Tubas were probably three city blocks apart. Suddenly the drums rolled and the band started playing. Incredible. The front of the band was past Rudder Tower, well on the way to Yell, and the Tubas were not yet out of the bottleneck at the side of G.Rollie, and they played and played together. This seemed so symbolic of what had been happening to the Aggie family this week. We were spread out over the world. We are spread out over the years—octogenarians of the Sul Ross classes and seventeen year old Fish. At times some members may lose sight of the long maroon line, but we are held together by the Spirit just like the band was held together by the drums.
Epilogue
After the game had to deal with car problems for son’s car, so stayed around College Station for a few hours. Just before leaving at 5PM, Dad and I made a final swing by Bonfire. There were several hundred (maybe even a couple of thousand) people still there. The streets were full of cars parked, and both nearby parking lots were partially filled. At 88 Dad was not up to walking around—too emotional. But we drove into the parking lot and got a place right by the fence. I made my second daylight visit. The tributes keep being added. Even after the rains, the letters and notes, the outfit shirts, the bonfire pots—the game tickets attached to notes—pay tribute to the lost, and to the caliber of students at this university. Their faith will see them through this.
As we make a final drive through campus, it is surprisingly filled with people—mainly “Old Ags with family” walking from building to building—obviously “Coming Home.” For many of us, our days at Texas A&M University were crucial in shaping our adult lives. We become busy in those lives, and perhaps forget that Aggieland not only is a place in College Station, it is also a condition in the heart of all who have spent time here, as well as all who love the school and its ideals. With the shattering news of November 18, we have all “Come Home.” For many of us that visit home was physical—we walked through the familiar streets of our youth—seeing today’s sights and hearing with our hearts the times of our past. For those of us not so lucky, that visit home was still one of the heart—finding the true meaning of “once and Aggie, always an Aggie.” So to all who could not be there with us, I say “ Howdy, Welcome Home.”
Gig’em Angels—coming two by two,
Aggie Angels—dressed all in maroon,
Howdy Angels—God’s expecting you,
Welcome to Heaven’s Bonfire crew.
