Waiting since 1939: Texas A&M faithful's hope to someday win it all

Watching the euphoria of Ohio State fans celebrating a football national championship on Monday night evoked memories of an earnest conversation several years ago.

Before COVID-19, TexAgs’ big shot Billy Liucci was the star of the Belliucci Hour, a radio-broadcasted lunchtime discussion of Texas A&M sports — primarily football — at The Tap.

A loyal group of septuagenarian and octogenarian Aggies faithfully gathered at front tables each Tuesday and Thursday to hear Billy reveal news and give updates on the A&M program.

I, too, often attended to get a cheeseburger and possibly to glean any new information that Billy had not shared at the office.

During those lunches, I was given an honorary seat at their tables. That led to some interesting conversations. One particular comment stands out in my memory.

“I’ve always hoped I’d live to see the Aggies win a national championship. I’m afraid I’m running out of time.”

Memory betrayal prevents recollections if that was said by Don Asher, Dee Godbey, Jeff Tipton, “Ruidoso Ron” Lueck, Alan Lucien, Jimmy Wight, Brandon Gaines or somebody else.

It doesn’t really matter. It could have been any or all of them.

Texas A&M last won a football national championship in 1939. Aggies have been anxiously waiting for the next one ever since.

Those guys have waited the longest. They, along with tens of thousands of other Aggies, have invested money, emotion and — quite frankly — their lives into an A&M program that has so often let them down.

“We lived and died on Saturdays,” said 83-year-old Ron Lueck, a retired American Airlines pilot who goes by the pseudonym ‘Ruidoso Ron.’ “Several times, we’ve been left on the sidewalk when the parade went by. We were all dressed up with no place to go. It’s quite frustrating.

“But we all have the same enthusiasm no matter what. In about a month, we start putting on our Maroon glasses again. We’ll drink our Kool-Aid again. And we’ll know, by God, this is our year. Even though we’ve done it about 60 or 65 times.”

Aggies understand that frustration.

It goes all the way back to the loss to Arkansas in 1975. It continued in 2013 when an explosive offense couldn’t compensate for a porous defense. There was the November fade of 2016. In 2020, the College Football Playoff selection committee screwed A&M. The Aggies opened the season ranked No. 6 in 2021 and 2022 but quickly plummeted.

“It’s extremely frustrating,” said Jeff Tipton, class of ’79. “I sympathized with some of the older guys in my crowd. One is 91. One is 85. They’ve almost given up hope.”

T.D. Scott, a former high school coach, did not attend Texas A&M. But the Korean War veteran sent daughters Sandy, Class of ’82, and Sheryl, Class of ’91, to A&M and became as big an Aggie fan as anybody.

He never lost hope for an A&M national championship. Every year, he would proclaim this would be THE year for the Aggies to win it all.

Scott passed away in 2019.

His daughter Sandy Nigh, who recently won a battle with breast cancer, is moved to tears when thinking about what a championship would have meant to her dad.

“I don’t know if I could put it into words,” she said. “It's like one of those things you feel so close to and want it so badly. You feel like everybody has worked so hard for it along the way, and they deserve it. You want to see the good guys win.”

Of course, I hope the Aggies win a national championship in the not-too-distant future.

Sure, it would be great for business.

A championship would lead to more subscribers, which would lead to more advertisers, which would lead to more revenue, which — at least, theoretically —would lead to higher salaries. That’s a great reason to want a championship.

But I mostly want an A&M championship for those loyal Aggies who have given so much and waited so long.

“They gotta hurry,” said Ruidoso Ron, the former airline pilot. “I’m running out of runway.”